Page 85 of Puck to the Heart
Wow—just—why?
“I want to rescind my bid for captain,” I blurted to avoid the mental image.
“Shock factor. Always works,” Coach tapped the small sewing kit against his palm. “And don’t worry, my boxers don’t have holes. But there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’m not wearing any.”
Bleaching my brain wouldn’t be enough to rid myself of the visual. I tried to stop a shudder.
He chuckled. “Kidding again, Wilder. You are so gullible sometimes.”
We needed to get on track. Somehow, Coach Olsen’s belief in me made letting him down so much worse. As much as I thought I could lead, maybe I couldn’t. Everything I’d done in the last game was wrong.
“Coach—”
“Wilder. I’m not making a final decision until I see what all of you do with your chance.”
“We lost two games. I was supposed to be the leader, and I fucked up.”
“Do you know how long I’ve been coaching?”
“No, sir.”
“Neither do I. Been so long, I lost count. Probably longer than you’ve been alive. And in all those years, do you know how many games I’ve lost?”
“No, sir.”
“Neither do I because I lost count. But I’ve lost plenty. Made mistakes, too.”
It wasn’t the encouraging speech I expected, but Coach went on.
“Look, Ash, to quote my personal idol, Herb Brooks, ‘Success is won by those who believe in winning, and then prepare for that moment’. You’ve got toprepare, son.”
How, though? “I don’t know how to prepare myself, much less a team.”
“Kid, it was never just you. And that’s what you forgot.”
“You’re not playing like Asher the Basher, right now. You’re not even playing like Ash Wilder. You’re playing like a freaking mouse out there. To quote Herb Brooksagain, ‘You'replaying worseevery day and right now you're playing like it's next month.’ You’ve got to find your inner basher again but keep him on a leash. It’s not about bashing heads, but you can’tstopplaying, either.”
“Wasn’t Herb Brooks a baseball coach?” My sad attempt to lighten the mood soured it more.
“You know he wasn’t, but that’s not the point.”
Mentally flipping through my career brought forth images of me playing with my team but notplayingwith myteam.Which made no sense yet somehow made perfect sense. “I don’t know how to make decisions for myself as a player and the team as a whole.”
“Risk something or forever sit with your dreams.” More Herb Brooks. Someone must’ve gotten Coach a book of hockey quotes for Christmas.
It wasn’t helping. I hated when people who were supposed to be wise were all cryptic instead of saying outright what I needed to hear. “Oh, Babe Ruth said that one, right?” I couldn’t help the joke, even if I didn’t feel like making it.
My smartassery earned a glare and a light shove into the wall as the coach passed me on the way into the bathroom. “I should bench you for that.” Coach scowled, the deep brown skin around his eyes crinkling as his brows furrowed and he headed back out.
Maybe he should. If I was benched, I couldn’t fuck anything else up.
Without clarification of his Master Yoda pronouncement, I still didn’t know how to find my lost…basher-ness while managing to keep my head on straight to tellotherpeople what to do without bashing them. If I were being honest with myself, I’d been listless for a while, my inner fire already dwindling. I thought I was settling down, but maybe instead of losing my hotheadedness, I was losing my edge.
None of the leadership books I found helped. Even oneaboutHerb Brooks. Most were variations on the same theme. “If you want to succeed, you have to succeed,” which was utter bullshit. I needed an instruction manual, not platitudes. And I didn’t know how to reconcile my position with the new, additional weight of being the man in charge.
Picking up heavy things and putting them down usually helped clear my head, so I hit the gym. Or I tried, but the usual mindless calm during the repetition bench presses and squats didn’t quite come to me. At least the movement gave my limbs a release for the nerves; I’d been tapping my fingers or jiggling my foot for hours.
Glancing in the mirror didn’t help; the sight reminded me of Olivia bent over a bench, taking everything I gave her until she?—
