CHAPTER 36: THE FINAL CUT
O'Bannon noticed the hockey club's play improve following their bonding day. Passes looked crisper. Teamwork was better. Everyone put more effort into their play. Good thing, too, since from everything he heard from the Weasley twins' scouting missions, the Slytherins had been getting better and better every day.
As March wore on, he developed a better sense of each player's skills, abilities and mentalities. Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein and Miroslav Harkorth all possessed unflappable personalities, even when things around them weren't going well. Seamus Finnigan and Ginny Weasley had fiery personalities and had no problem pushing, shoving or elbowing others to keep control of the puck. Ernie MacMillan, Jimmy Peakes and Terry Boot, however, got pissed if they missed too many shots, which affected their play for the rest of practice.
When it came to time trials and skating drills, Ginny, Mireet and Michael Corner proved some of fastest and most agile players on the team, with Dean Thomas and Katie not far behind. O'Bannon was in the middle of the pack, as he expected. Speed and agility had never been his biggest strengths. But he looked like a jet fighter compared to Ernie, the Creevey brothers, and two huge guys from Durmstrang named Stanimir Kurdzeli and Valko Velich.
They're like tanks with skates.
The goaltender position still concerned him. McLaggen had turned into an absolute wall in net. If he'd been a Muggle, there would be college coaches looking at him.
But the guy's attitude worsened day by day. McLaggen berated players who didn't perform to his liking, especially if he let a goal in. He always placed the blame on the defensemen, never himself. O'Bannon couldn't count the number of times he'd told McLaggen to shut up, or the number of laps he'd made him run, or the amount of push-ups he'd made him do. None of it changed McLaggen's behavior. The friction between him and the rest of the players grew. He'd had to stop practice twice to keep Seamus and Kurdzeli from pounding the goalie to a pulp. He also gave Ginny a warning glance after one practice when she gripped her wand while glaring at McLaggen.
Why does he have to be so good? Had McLaggen sucked, he would have been gone a long time ago. But no hockey team could be successful without great goaltending. And who else could compare with McLaggen? Harkorth was competent, but a back-up goalie at best. Susan Bones had a great attitude and always worked hard, and had improved since the start of training camp . . . somewhat. Lee Jordan also worked hard, but hadn't gotten any better since they first started the hockey club.
Then there was Ron Weasley.
Fred and George's younger brother had shown flashes of brilliance. At times he even looked the equal of McLaggen in net. But whenever he let a puck through, his confidence went in the toilet, and the floodgates opened.
I wonder how Don Cherry would handle this?
Unfortunately, he didn't have the famed ex-Boston Bruins coach around. The final decision on goalie would be his and his alone.
Another decision he had to make regarding the team, however, would be much easier.
On the last Saturday of March, O'Bannon had the twins and Angelina meet him in the Charms classroom.
"So what's with the super secret meeting, Jimmy Boy?" Fred asked as they took their seats.
"Well, hopefully you guys remember from my Intro to Hockey talks that when it comes to leadership on the ice, there's the captain, and there are two alternate captains. Basically, players who act like a second-in-command, who can take over and run things if the captain is in the penalty box or gets hurt. I've been giving it a lot of thought over the last couple of weeks, and I've made my decision."
He looked to Angelina. "Ang, I've seen how you take control on the ice, the way you talk to the other players and how you're not afraid to point out problems when they need pointing out. Most importantly, the players respond to you. So congratulations, you get to wear an A."
"Thank you, Jimmy. You can count on me."
"I know I can." O'Bannon then turned to the Weasley. "Now, normally a team has two alternate captains. But when it comes to you guys, we'll you're a package deal. And some leagues do allow three alternate captains. So both of you get A's, too."
"Them?" Angelina exclaimed.
"Us?" both Fred and George blurted.
"Oh, quit looking so surprised. Fred, George, you guys are always patient explaining things, especially to the younger players. People feel relaxed around you, they aren't afraid to talk to you. Plus, you've got drive and really good organizational skills."
Angelina gawked at him. "Drive? Organizational skills? Them? Have you ever seen their grades? Have you ever seen them study?"
"Study?" A faux-puzzled look came over Fred's face.
"What's that?" asked George.
"I think it's that thing Hermione Granger does all the time."
Angelina shot O'Bannon a doubtful look. "Jimmy, you know I count these two among my best friends, but seriously?"
"Yes, I am serious. Have you seen how complicated some of their pranks are? All the planning they do for them? And what about that joke shop they want to open one day? These guys are dead serious about that, and they already have plans on how to make it happen. They're doing the kind of things that leaders need to do."
Fred grimaced. "Well if something happens to you or Ang and we have to lead this team . . ."
"You may as well give the win to Slytherin," added George.
"Ha-ha. C'mon, if push comes to shove, I know you guys'll come through."
"What if we turn down this great honor?" asked George.
"You can't. El Capitan has spoken, and the matter is closed."
Fred and George looked at one another, shrugged, and grinned.
"And here Mum thought we'd never amount to anything," said Fred.
O'Bannon smiled. "Well, know that that's out of the way, it's time for your first responsibility as alternate captains."
"And what's that?" asked Angelina.
"Helping me make the final cuts."
XXXXX
O'Bannon wanted to discuss this somewhere away from the castle, where they wouldn't be interrupted, or where students wouldn't eavesdrop on them. He suggested going to see Hagrid and asking if they could use his hut, but Fred cut him off.
"Forget Hagrid's hut. We have a better place."
"Yes," George jumped in. "A secret place."
"A very secret place."
"Follow us," they both said and headed for the door.
O'Bannon raised an eyebrow and turned to Angelina. "You know what they're talking about?"
"No bloody idea."
They followed the twins to the second floor, where they went through a tapestry of hippogriffs battling a dragon. They all had to use Lumos charms to illuminate the tunnel they entered. After about ten minutes of walking, the quartet ended up in front of a rock wall with a crude engraving of the Hogwarts crest. Fred took out his wand and tapped the images of the Gryffindor lion, Ravenclaw eagle, Hufflepuff badger and Slytherin snake. With a cracking and grinding, the wall rose.
"Whoa." O'Bannon gazed at a small room with a worn out sofa and two chairs in similar condition. A faded and chipped table in the corner had a battered Wizarding Wireless. Next to it was a simple wooden box. Posters of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team and a Wizarding band called Wicked Wands hung from the rock walls.
"When did you come up with this?" Angelina stepped inside.
"We didn't," Fred told her.
"We found it," said George.
"This little spot's been here for nearly a century, judging by the markings on the wall."
Both O'Bannon and Angelina pointed their glowing wands at the rock wall. They found names and dates, some going back to the 1920s. A few former students had also engraved hearts and initials, including one that read "JP and LE."
"We sometimes come down here to test our joke products," George explained. "Good place for it if something goes wrong, that way we're the only ones affected."
"How thoughtful of you," Angelina said with a hint of sarcasm.
"It's also a nice place to entertain any lovely young witches who succumb to our charm." Fred grinned, until his gaze fell on Angelina. His smile faded, and both of them averted their eyes.
O'Bannon frowned. He hadn't been the only one who got the "just friends" speech after the Yule Ball. Angelina had laid that on Fred, too, when he tried to make his move.
Long, uncomfortable seconds of silence passed before George saved the day. "Um, here. We're always properly stocked."
He walked over to the wooden box and opened it. Ice coated the interior. George levitated out four bottles of butterbeer and bags of Chocoballs, toffees and pumpkin pasties. While he used a charm to thaw them out, Fred flicked his wand and sent a ball of light toward the ceiling. It hung there, illuminating the entire room.
The twins sat on the couch, while O'Bannon and Angelina took the chairs. O'Bannon used his wand to move the table to the middle of the room, them placed some quills and pieces of parchment on it.
"Okay, gang. Let's get down to business."
The meeting took up most of the afternoon. Some choices on who to keep and who to cut proved easy. Others, not so much. A few times personal feelings clouded their decisions. That's when Angelina would say that hard choices needed to be made if they wanted the best team possible.
They agonized, they debated, once or twice they argued, but in the end they came up with the twenty players they felt gave them the best chance at beating Slytherin.
When the four of them entered the Great Hall for dinner, O'Bannon told the hockey club members to gather outside the Charms classroom after breakfast tomorrow. There he would meet individually with each player to tell them if they made the final roster or not.
He had a hard time sleeping that night, thinking about the kids he had to cut. Many had worked very hard every day at practice, but just didn't have it when it came to talent. Some had become good friends. Would they remain friends after he cut them?
O'Bannon sighed as he stared up at the darkened ceiling of his room. How many kids had their hearts set on making the team and facing Slytherin? He was going to stomp on their dreams. He was going to stare them right in the face and tell them they weren't good enough.
That made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wondered if some of the NHL's legendary coaches like Scotty Bowman, Al Arbour and Jack Adams had felt this way when they had to cut players.
If they did, I guess they sucked it up and did what they had to do, considering all the Stanley Cups they won.
That's what you'll have to do, Jimmy.
Easier said than done.
XXXXX
O'Bannon barely ate anything at breakfast the next morning. He didn't speak to anyone, either, and most students at the Gryffindor table kept their distance from him, especially the hockey club members. They were probably just as nervous as him.
I doubt it, since I'm the one who has to give 'em the bad news.
Eventually, the food and plates disappeared from the table, signaling the end of breakfast. He wiped his sweaty palms on his robes as he got up from the table and left the Great Hall without a word.
His pace slowed as he neared the Charms classroom.
I really don't want to do this.
That's sports for you. People make the team or they get cut. It's always been that way.
O'Bannon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You can do this.
Exhaling, he entered the classroom and closed the door. He sat at Professor Flitwick's desk and laid out the parchment with the names of each hockey club member. Soon he heard the sounds of people gathering outside.
Let's get this over with.
O'Bannon grabbed the parchment with the names of his prospective forwards and defensemen. He closed his eyes, circled his quill over the parchment, then brought it down. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and saw the name it landed on.
Pointing his wand at his throat to amplify his voice, O'Bannon called out, "Valko Velich."
The Durmstrang student entered the classroom and took a seat in front of the desk. If he was nervous, he didn't show it. Then again, the guy always had a stony expression. Who knew what he was thinking?
"Morning, Valko."
"Jimmy."
"Well, I just want to tell you that I've always been impressed with your work ethic. You do what we ask, you don't slack off, you don't cause any problems. Also, it can't be easy doing this with your headmaster constantly giving you crap about playing hockey."
Velich shrugged. "He has his view on this hockey. It does not bother me."
O'Bannon nodded. What he wouldn't give for Velich's cool right now.
"I'm glad to hear that. Thing is, man, while you've been working hard, you haven't been scoring many goals. You're also not a very fast skater, or an agile one."
"I understand. This hockey is a fast game."
"Yeah, but, dude, you're a freakin' hulk."
Velich furrowed his brow. "I am not understanding."
"I mean, you're huge. Your muscles have muscles, for crying out loud. Hockey teams need guys like you. Slytherin's got some big guys on their team, guys who can knock around most of the players we have. We need someone like you to even the score. You're what we call an enforcer. So congratulations, you made the team."
Surprise flashed through Velich's eyes for a second. He nodded and shook O'Bannon's hand.
"Thank you, Jimmy. I shall be a good enforcer."
"I don't doubt that."
O'Bannon let out a sigh as Velich left the room. That had gone well.
That wouldn't be the case with his next student.
His quill landed on the name Isolda Gellius, a Sixth Year Ravenclaw who had tried to make her house Quidditch team the previous two years, and failed both times.
"Um, Isolda . . . um, you worked really hard at practice and you never caused any trouble. But there are other players who are . . . well, they did . . . well. So, um, I'm sorry, but . . . you didn't make the team."
Isolda buried her face in her hands and cried. "But I tried so hard. I always try hard. First Quidditch, now this."
Her cries became louder. O'Bannon shifted in his chair, the veins in his neck sticking out as he tried to figure out how to handle this.
"Um . . . uh . . . I'm sorry, Isolda."
The Ravenclaw girl didn't say anything. She just hurried out of the room, bawling her eyes out.
Damn. O'Bannon slumped in his chair. This was not going to be a fun day.
Three more female players he cut also left the room in tears. Each one made him feel more and more like a heartless bastard.
It's not personal. You're just trying to put together the best team possible.
That didn't make it any easier. He wondered if Scotty Bowman or Al Arbour ever had to deal with reactions like that when they cut players in the NHL.
Not every meeting ended badly. He did get to tell Seamus Finnigan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein they made the team.
Then there was Colin Creevey. The always smiling, always cheerful Colin Creevey. This was one meeting he would have loved to pawn off to Angelina or the Weasley twins.
You're the captain. This is your job.
"Colin, um, I know you've been with us from the beginning, and I appreciate everything you've done for the club. But . . . but, um, there are some other people who's performances at training camp were . . . very good. I'm sorry, but you didn't make the team."
Unbelievably, Colin smiled. "That's okay, Jimmy. I've never been the best at sports. Oi! Maybe I can hang around you lot and take pictures, and Dennis can help, too. I'm pretty sure he won't make it. He's not very athletic, either. We can be the official team photographers, if that's cool with you."
"Um, sure. No prob. You guys got the job."
"Cool. Thanks, Jimmy."
Colin bounded out of the classroom with a huge smile.
Wish they were all that easy.
The meetings continued. Katie Bell, Terry Boot, Dean Thomas and Radomir Tortorov from Durmstrang all made the team. So did Mireet Miradeaux. He figured some kids would think it was because they'd gone to the Yule Ball together. Well, if they couldn't see the fact Mireet was a phenomenal athlete, that was their problem, not his.
Other boys and girls took their cuts in any number of ways, from typical British reserve to disappointment – as was the case with Jimmy Peakes - to more tears. Ginny Weasley and Ernie MacMillan both appeared nervous when they entered the classroom. Not that they had reason to be. Ginny's speed, shooting skills and toughness made her a no-brainer for the team. Even though you could time Ernie with a sun dial, what he lacked in speed he made up for with his puck handling and passing skills. He made the final cut, too, as did Michael Corner, Gordon Summerby, a rather agile skater from Hufflepuff, and Stanimir Kurdzeli, another good enforcer-type.
With the skaters done, all he had left were the five goalie candidates. This time, he didn't use his quill to randomly select one.
"Cormac McLaggen."
McLaggen strutted into the room. He flopped into the chair in front of O'Bannon and folded his arms, an arrogant smile on his face.
"You're cut."
A baffled expression came over McLaggen. "I beg your pardon."
"You're cut. You're not on the team."
McLaggen just stared at him, mouth agape. "Are you barking mad? I'm the best goalie you've got."
"Yeah, you are. I'd bet anything you'd pitch a shutout against Slytherin. The problem is, your attitude sucks. You think you're God's gift to hockey, and you're not afraid to tell it to everyone. Whenever you do let a puck through, it's everyone else's fault except yours. Nobody on the team likes you, and while talent is important, so is chemistry. This club has become pretty tight-knit, with one exception. You. I've seen how one athlete with a piss-poor attitude can destroy a locker room, and I'm not gonna let that happen here. So you're cut."
"Really? You're really cutting me?" McLaggen let out a sardonic laugh. "Yank, you have got to be the thickest wizard on the planet? Without me, you won't win."
"Yes we will, because we're going to have a team that will support each other, on and off the ice."
"This isn't a social club. This is a sports club. Everyone getting along and having a cheery old time won't win you that game. I will. You think Weasley or Jordan have a prayer of stopping any puck that comes their way? Harkorth is barely adequate and Susan Bones is a joke."
"But they don't yell at their teammates when they let in a puck."
"Well if those incompetent wankers would do their job -"
"Okay, that's it. I'm done with you putting down my teammates. You're cut, McLaggen. Cut!"
McLaggen's face scrunched in anger. "Fine, then. Lose to the Slytherins, if that's what you want. See how fast all your friends drop you -"
"Get out! Now!"
McLaggen shot out of his seat. "You're the biggest idiot I've ever met. Not only that, but you're jealous, because you know I'm ten times the athlete you'll ever be!"
O'Bannon yanked out his wand. "You've got ten seconds to get your ass out of here, otherwise I'm gonna twist your tongue into knots, have lima beans shoot out your ears, and give you an Exploding Eyebrow Hex."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Ten."
"You're mad. Absolutely mad."
"Nine."
"I don't think you have the guts to -"
"Aw, screw it! Three, two o-"
McLaggen bolted out of the room.
O'Bannon sat back down, giving himself about five minutes to calm down before calling in Harkorth.
"I heard the yelling," said the Bulgarian, "and saw McLaggen run out of here. Things did not go well, I take it?"
"No, not well at all."
Harkorth took a seat. O'Bannon took steady breaths, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of anger. A minute passed without him saying a word, and Harkorth looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Oh, you're on the team."
Harkorth smiled and sat up straighter. "Thank you, Jimmy. I know I must improve at goalie. I will work hard to do that."
"I know you will, man."
O'Bannon had to wait a couple of minutes to call in the next goalie candidate. This would probably be the toughest of his one-on-one meetings.
"Lee Jordan."
It proved almost impossible to look Lee in the eye. He was a cool guy, always cheerful, and had become a damn good friend. The final decision had been hardest for Fred and George. They'd been friends with Lee since their first day at Hogwarts.
"That's what happens when you're in charge," Angelina had said. "You have to put personal feelings aside and make hard choices."
O'Bannon sighed and forced himself to look up at Lee. "Hey, Lee. Um . . . hey, man. You've been with us from the beginning, and I'm really grateful for your support. But, um, well . . ."
"Oh don't go beating yourself up, Jimmy. Everyone knows I'm no athlete. You need your best players on the ice, and you need me where I can do the most good."
"Uh, where's that?"
"Behind the magical megaphone, of course. Just like in Quidditch. You've no idea how much I've missed calling matches, and I figured you'd want someone announcing your game to make it even more exciting."
O'Bannon couldn't help but smile. He'd heard from several students about Lee's "colorful" style of commentary.
"You want it, you got. Have fun."
"Trust me, I will."
After Lee left, O'Bannon called in Susan Bones. She nervously squeezed her left hand with her right as she sat down.
"Well, Susan, I have to be honest, you need some more work in goal."
"Mm-hmm." She nodded, a solemn look on her face, like she knew what was coming.
"But, you always work hard, you don't get upset when you let in a goal, and you get along with everyone. I think with some more practice, you'll make a solid goalie. So congratulations. You made the team."
Susan's jaw dropped. A smile spread across her face. "Jimmy, thank you. Thank you, so much. Trust me, I will practice more. I want to beat Slytherin as much as anyone else."
They shook hands, and Susan left the classroom in a cheerier mood than when she entered.
That left just one more person.
"Ron Weasley."
Ron entered with his head down and his shoulders sagging. O'Bannon tried not to frown. As moody as Ron could be, he was a pretty decent guy. And he did feel for him. With everything his older brothers had accomplished, with a famous best friend in Harry Potter, and with a brainiac like Hermione Granger always hanging around, he must feel like the odd-man out. In a way, Ron reminded him somewhat of Artimus, only with a better family. He desperately wanted to carve out his own niche, do something to stand out, like play goalie for the hockey team.
And I'm about to crap all over him.
"Hey, Ron. Um, look, I appreciate you coming out, and . . ."
Ron slouched in his seat, looking more miserable by the second.
O'Bannon sighed. No sense in prolonging the suffering, I guess.
"I'm sorry, Ron, but you didn't make the team."
"Yeah, of course I didn't," he muttered. "Thanks."
Ron pushed himself out of the chair and trudged out of the room. O'Bannon watched him leave in silence.
That wasn't fun.
None of the cuts had been fun. But they had to be done. As Angelina said, people in charge had to make tough choices.
He tried to put the negative experiences of the cuts out of his mind and focus on the positive aspect of the day, that being they now had an official 20-player roster.
Now for the big one. What do we call ourselves?
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the delay between chapters. I spent much of February finishing up the first draft of an original manuscript, and doing promotion for my new original novel DARK WINGS, which is available from Amazon and as an e-book at Smashwords.