Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Mighty Ducks Animated Series.
"Do we have to?"
Phil's eyes landed on the alien at his side. Wildwing wasn't one to whine or complain about anything. For the most part, he was cool and collected, regardless of the situation. But for some reason, this was really not something he was willing to put up with. Scratch that. He plain out didn't want to do it. Obligation was the only thing keeping him there.
Phil's attention returned to the rink before them as players continued their drills. It had taken him a little over five months to get them to agree to hire a coach after their first Stanley Cup loss the previous year. The ducks were all excellent players, but they still had trouble reading and understanding the human players on the opposing team. If they could learn to think and react the way people did, Phil was certain they could clench the Stanley Cup this upcoming year. And after the Forking Incident he had decided that they needed at least another six to ten players on the team. Best of all, if the human side of the team learned to play like the ducks, he'd have an unstoppable team on his hands!
So now they stood, a few weeks after Nosedive's unfortunate encounter with a vicious fork, watching for potential players.
"Common, bubala," Phil began, "we can use the extra players for times when you guys get sick or actually do get injured while fighting Dragaunus."
"Even when we fight Dragaunus, we don't get seriously injured. And no one has gotten sick-" Wildwing caught himself short. But it was too late. He looked down at the chunky manager as Phil's eyebrow rose.
"Did you forget about Mallory?" the human began as the duck cursed under his breathe. "She played while sick! It cost us the game. And don't try to tell me it was nothing. She made Tanya's sniffling look like a ray of sunshine in Lollipop Land."
Wildwing's shoulders slumped in defeat. The only way to appease Phil was to pick at least six other players to join the club. He was reluctant, seeing as how the league had allowed them to play with only the six of them for so long. It was a special condition extended to a special case. No one had believed Phillip P. Palmfeather when he said he had a team of only six players who could play for hours on end. But as it turned out, the ducks' stamina was astonishing. They didn't even break a sweat during the typically three hour long game. Heck, they didn't really need breaks in between periods either. The only reason they weren't on the ice between periods was because it was being cleaned.
"He looks promising," Phil pointed the pen in his hand to one of the athletes.
"He second guesses himself," Audrey's voice startled the chubby man.
"OH! GEEZ! You're going to give me a heart attack, kid!" Phil jumped back, nearly dropping the clipboard in his hands.
Audrey smiled wistfully at him before returning her attention to the men on the ice. "I think that one is a better pick," she put in her two cents.
Drake and human followed the girl's gaze, landing on the player in question. He was at least a head shorter than the others around him. Phil guessed that the guy probably didn't even come close to the average two hundred pounds that most hockey players weighted. He shuffled through the papers on his clipboard until he found the man's information. His eyes quickly reading the statistics, his suspicions confirmed.
"Sorry kid, but it'd be murder to put Paul on the team. I'm sure even you could roughen him up without even trying."
The girl looked up at the human confused.
"Fighting between players is one of the selling points of hockey on this world," Wildwing informed. He watched as the information sunk in. As expected, Audrey shook her head disappointedly. While it was a widely accepted practice for humans, it was a horrible taboo for ducks.
"Either way," Audrey sat on the bench, folding her legs under her, "if you're going to choose, get him. He's calculating and very attentive. He looks confident, but not pompous."
"I think I know what I'm doing here," Phil scribbled a large X across Paul's statistical sheet.
"Really?" Audrey perked up, cocking her head to the side. "I heard you let your previous team get away."
"They were relocated to Piscataway! It was out of my hands."
"Or they all walked out on you to move to a place where they thought they'd have a better chance at winning a championship," the girl sniggered. Before the earthling could respond, she continued, "I read the old newspapers in your office. You really should clean it out. Someone like Duke would have a field day in there."
"I thought you said they were taken away from you," Wildwing said, trying to think back to the first time they had met Phil.
Phil glared at the girl before looking up at the team captain. "Taken away, walked out, it's all the same, babe! Bottom line, they weren't here when you guys arrived!"
Wildwing stood in shocked silence. He couldn't believe this. Actually, yes. Yes he could. None of them had ever questioned the manager any further as to why his previous team had left, they were all just too concerned with being able to play hockey themselves. The drake then turned his attention to the girl on the bench. "You sure about this?" he questioned.
"Yup," her eyes remained fixed on the human in question.
Wildwing skated out onto the ice and came to a halt next to their coach. They discussed Paul for a moment and the coach nodded. The large bird then made his way to the net as the coach called the man over. The coach gave Paul simple instructions before skating back, ordering the others to clear the ice. Paul skated towards center ice, setting a puck up at the center faceoff dot before looking down the length of stadium at the netminder. He waited for Wildwing to finish setting himself up just above the blue paint before receiving a nod to begin.
Paul circled the far circles a few more times, gazing up at the goaltender before finally deciding to begin.
Paul made his way to center ice, picking up speed and the puck as he began his attack. He glided left before swinging back towards center ice, Wildwing following his moves as he retreated back towards the net. The man faked a few shots, but Wildwing didn't bit. In the end, Paul snapped the disk low, aiming for the five-hole. Needless to say, it didn't work. Widlwing read his moves clearly, making the save with the greatest of ease.
"You were saying?" Phil crossed his arms, snickering at the young duck beside him.
"They're just testing each other out," Audrey responded, her eyes fixed on the human as he circled back to center ice with another puck. "Just watch."
This time, Paul burst into a full-fledge sprint, picking up the puck and barreling down the center of the ice. Not only did his sudden speed surprise the goalie, but his puck handling was impressive. He maneuvered the black disk with a practiced ease that kept the netminder guessing which way he would ultimately head. As he reached the crease, he slid right, snapping the puck up. Wildwing pushed to his left, reaching up just in time to feel the puck bounce off the tip of his glove. A split second later, he heard the tell-tale sign of the disk hitting the crossbar behind him. Out of instinct, he looked back into the net and was glad to see the puck hadn't made it in.
"You gotta be quicker than that," Wildwing teased good naturedly as he watched the man circle around disappointed. That was actually a pretty good shot and he found that his foul mood had all but disappeared.
Paul glanced at Wildwing, his expression unreadable. Nonetheless, he nodded before taking off to the other end of the ice, setting up for his final run.
Phil had inched his way closer to the short board, his breath held as he watched Paul faceoff against Wildwing. He had to admit, that was some impressive stick handling.
"Pretty good, isn't he?" Audrey commented.
Phil tensed, refusing to look back at the young girl. He didn't have to admit anything out loud.
The pair's attention returned to the rink as Paul began his final flight down the length of the ice. Again, he opted for a direct attack down the middle. Wildwing moved to the top of the crease, greeting the man head-on, slowly retreating into the net as the human advanced.
Suddenly, Paul came to an almost complete stop at the top of the faceoff circles. He slowly glided forward, the netminder tracking his painfully slow advance. Paul alternated between rapid and almost clumsy looking puck handling, faking a few shots as he inched closer. The goaltender inched back and forth with the puck, but refused to commit to any final move until Paul set up for a quick snap shot just as he entered the goal crease. From that angle, he would have to try for something low. Wildwing came down on his knees, efficiently closing any available gap down below and stretched forward. The puck was a mere inch away from him and he tried to poke the disk out of the human's control. Unfortunately for him, Paul quickly fished the puck back and darted to the goaltender's left. The drake toppled forward, losing his balance. With the netminder now down on the ice, Paul easily elevated the puck over his burly body and scored in the wide open net.
Audrey and Phil watched from the bench as the puck entered the net. It was almost comical to watch as the black disk was easily flicked in with one of the best goalies in the league just lying flat on his stomach.
Wildwing didn't need to look back to know that the puck had made it past him, the cheering and celebration from the other players was enough of a confirmation. The drake got to his feet, retrieving the puck and sent it sailing down the length of the ice. He made his way back to the bench, his mind analyzing that last faceoff run.
"He's a problem solver," Wildwing confirmed.
Audrey nodded. "Told you," she gloated, the smile on her small bill growing wide.
"A lucky shot," Phil shrugged.
"He's a candidate," the white drake informed. "I want to see him skate with Dive. I get a feeling those two could be a handful."
Phil muttered, taking the stats sheet and scribbling something on the upper portion of it.
"You're the one who wanted the extra players. I'm just obliging," Wildwing reminded a playful tone to his voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get too full of yourselves," the manager didn't look happy at all.
Wildwing chuckled. Phil was an excellent manager, but it looked like the human wasn't particularly good at recognizing subtle talent.
~ * End * ~
A/N:The idea came some time ago while watching a Ducks game that ended in a shoot-out victory for the Predators. It was a Predator's player, Smith, who scored on goaltender Anderson while moving at a turtle's pace and furiously handling the puck: you tube DOT Com /watch?v=8KVa0wiI8lE