23. John
”First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming here to spend the rest of this week with me,” I practically screamed to be heard, addressing the squirming crowd of boys and girls gathered in the family lounge at the Wilcox rink. ”I know it”s not always easy to figure out all the details, and so I also need to say thank you to all the parents who made it happen to get you here.”
A group of parents stood around the perimeter of the room, many of them looking like they had other places they wanted or needed to be.
”We”ll take good care of your kids between the hours of eight-thirty and five-thirty,” I went on. ”And also for every minute after that. Because once you”ve been a Wombat, you”re a Wombat for life.”
A few of the kids cheered at this proclamation.
I”d given the speech last year too, and both times that particular line had felt somewhat hollow. Last year, I hadn”t been sure if I”d keep my position on the team—Mizzoni seemed so opposed to having me around. This year... well, it seemed like I wasn”t destined to be a Wombat much longer. But these kids would always have the experience of being Junior Wombats, of training in a real FHL rink, of meeting their idols, and of being shown one example of what was possible, despite whatever circumstances they faced.
There were some parents here, but most of these kids came from homes where work was a priority, not a luxury. Most of these kids came from homes that couldn”t afford summer camps, which was why the grants we operated with were so critical. The kids didn”t pay a dime to come, and it was part of my mission to make sure they never felt like anything we gave them was charity.
”All right, Wombats,” I said, raising my voice again. ”I want to make sure everyone here knows the rules.”
”Rules?” one of the kids said, sounding disappointed.
”Yep. Rules. Number one. You respect everyone else here. You can have fun, you can joke and you can tease, but all of it happens in an environment of respect. We lift each other up. If someone needs a hand, you give it to them, and know that they”ll be there to do the same for you. This place runs on respect. That”s how it is on the team I play for, and that”s how it will be for you. Can you guys tell me rule one?”
”RESPECT!” the kids called back.
”Good. Rule two. Everyone here is a Wombat. There is no ranking. We”re all here to learn and practice, get better and have fun. I don”t want to hear talk about who”s better than who. That”s not what we”re about. So, can I hear you tell me rule two?”
”All Wombats!”
”Right. And finally, rule three. Fun. We will have fun. What”s rule three?”
They had no trouble with that one at all.
”Great. Let”s get going,” I told them. ”Hit the benches outside and get your skates on. No one on the ice yet, okay?”
The room erupted in chaos, and a few minutes later the kids had gone out to meet Julius Ramon, Sly, and Rock Stevens, who were helping with the first half of day one. And I was left alone with the parents who hadn”t felt comfortable just dropping their kids off.
”What can I tell you guys?” I asked them. ”Any questions?”
There were a few standard questions about skill levels and what we”d be doing, and logistical concerns since some of our activities happened in places besides the rink. Once those had all been handled, a couple of the dads stood by.
”What else can I answer for you?” I asked them.
”Just curious about the team,” one of them said. He wore coveralls with the name James printed at his chest. ”You”re taking Mizzoni”s place, right?”
”Up to the coaches and managers,” I said, hoping these guys didn”t ask anything else and desperately wishing it was just my place.
”So that”s a yes?” the guy next to James asked.
”I hope so,” I said.
”Not instilling confidence, Samuels,” James said. ”You”ve already shown your potential. This town is behind you. What else is there?”
As good as that felt, I knew it didn”t really matter. ”I really appreciate that,” I told him. ”This week, my only focus is on your kids. And after camp, we”ll see what the team decides.”
The two men looked at one another, exchanging frowns. ”All right,” James said, reaching out to shake my hand.
”This camp means a lot,” the other guy told me. ”My kid”s been talking about it for months. Thanks.”
”I hope he has a good experience,” I said honestly. ”I”ll see you guys later.”
The men left and I took a big breath, steadying myself to face the chaos. When I arrived out to where the kids all had their skates on, I was shocked to see them sitting quietly, Julius Ramon discussing all the different types of ice cleaning machines.
”Together, the lot of these devices are referred to as Zambonis,” he was saying. ”But it is critical to know that the word Zamboni is a registered trademark of the Zamboni Company. The machine we use here at the Wombats rink is not a Zamboni. But it is an excellent ice-cleaning machine, and whoever does the best job following your coach”s directions today will get a ride on it before you go home.”
Rock Stevens stood to one side of Ramon, his eyes drooping as his head began to nod over his chest. If he fell asleep on his feet, he could topple over and take out a few of these kids, so I needed to liven things up right away.
”Okay!” I clapped my hands and Stevens jumped.
”I”m awake!” he yelled.
The kids all laughed.
”How many of you guys have been on the ice before?” Our camp was open to all levels, so we had hockey players and total beginners alike.
Most of the hands shot up.
”Great. You guys head on out there.” Kids got to their feet and after a lot of excessive clunking and shouting, we soon had a small army of skaters out on the ice with Julius and Sly. About five of the campers sat still, looking forlorn. These were my very favorite campers—the ones who would start out unsure, uncertain of their abilities, and who would undoubtedly discover something new inside themselves this week. Something they would keep with them forever.
”Okay, now you guys get a choice. You can hear more about the Zamboni, or you can have a personal skating lesson from one of the best centers in the FHL, Rock Stevens.”
”Rock!” the kids called out.
”That”s right,” Rock said, stepping forward. ”All right, pee wee wombats. Let”s go rock it!”
I headed out to the first group to join Julius who was setting up the first drill, while Rock ushered his crew out slowly, giving them each a PVC cage to push ahead of them.
And for the next ten hours, my heart was full, and the word ”trade” didn”t cross my mind. Not more than ten or fifteen thousand times.
Friday was the last day of camp. It was also the conclusion of Joey”s first week at work and the end of her probationary period with the company, so I wanted to do something special.
I was floating on a high after a successful week, and having come home every night to an ecstatic Joey, who’d finally realized her own worth and was making all her dreams come true. It had been a good week.
Which was why I’d almost declined the call coming in from Coach Merit.
”Samuels?”
I regretted answering the call as I finished cleaning up the last drill from camp. All the campers had gotten their goodie bags and headed out for the night. It was late, but I”d asked Joey not to eat without me.
”Hey Coach.”
”How was camp?” he asked. The camp had become a full-team effort, and while I knew the coach was aware of it and approved, I didn”t know he especially cared.
”Went really well,” I said. ”The kids were great. Got a couple future FHL stars, I think.”
”That”s good, man.”
I braced myself as he took an audible breath.
”So I have a bit of news about your trade.”
I sank into a seat as Julius waved to me from the far side of the rink. He was headed out. I lifted a hand and let my eyes drift shut. I didn”t want to hear this news.
”I”ve been talking to Shotz and to a few other organizations.”
I knew Shotz would look out for me in negotiations, but I didn”t think anyone could really get me what I wanted, which was to just stay here.
”Okay,” I said, doing my best to buoy my heart and hopes.
”So it”s between the Seattle Octopi and the Phoenix Firebirds.”
West Coast. I was going to the West Coast. So much for the idea that I might be somewhat local. I”d have to move. What would happen to me and Joey?
”And right now, the Octopi seem pretty motivated. Either way, you”d need to be getting out there within the month.”
I knew exactly who they”d be trading me for, then. Both of their second strings were vets. Young, but experienced. And both were waiting anxiously for a chance to start.
”Okay,” I said again, my heart sinking inside me like an anchor.
”This is a good thing,” Coach said. ”It”ll get you the experience you need. You”re on track to be one of the best, son.”
”Thanks.”
”I know this isn”t what you wanted.”
”It”s not.” I could at least be honest with him.
”But it”ll be the best thing in the end,” he said.
There was nothing I could say to that, so I kept my mouth shut.
”I”ll give you an update as soon as I”ve got it.”
”Right.”
”Proud of you, John.”
”Thanks.” I hung up, wondering exactly what the coach was proud of. That I was taking this without a fight? That I was willing to give up everything I”d found because I had no choice? Not much to be proud about in my estimation.
For a little while I just sat, staring out into the rink that I”d thought held my future. I let my eyes drift over the pristine white surface, track the blue and red lines, and finally come to rest on the net where I thought I”d been earning my place here.
Not good enough.
You were right, Dad. You”ve always been right.