AUTHOR'S NOTES: Oh my gosh! I swore I'd never become one of those writers who leaves stories un-updated for months on end. Sorry about that. I'll try to update faster from now on.
A NEW TEAM – CHAPTER ELEVEN – FLYING TOGETHER
Team USA sat on the bench at Arrowhead Pond, waiting to play their game against Germany. It was five minutes to game time and Coach Bombay still wasn't there.
"Where do you think he is?" Guy asked.
"Maybe he decided we're not worth the effort," Goldberg suggested.
"I say he forgot," Jesse asserted. "Too busy with the cake-eaters to worry about us."
"Hey, Team USA!" The team turned around at the sound of Tibbles' voice. "Do great today, all right?" The smile left his face. "Where's Gordon?"
"You tell us!" Luis said indignantly.
Tibbles looked at Kaley. "Kaley, have you seen him?"
Kaley raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, don't ask me," she said. "I'm staying as far away from him as the rest of you."
"Team USA!" A referee in his fifties skated up to the bench. "Without a coach on the bench, you forfeit the game."
"You can't make us forfeit!" Adam protested.
"That's the rules, son," the ref said.
"We have a coach!" Charlie said suddenly, jumping over the boards and skating to Ms. MacKay, who was walking to her seat. "Ms. MacKay!"
Ms. MacKay turned around. "Hey, Charlie," she said with a smile. "What's up?"
"You have to pretend to be our coach," Charlie said breathlessly. "Or we forfeit the game."
"Where's Coach Bombay?" Ms. MacKay asked.
"Pretend or we're out of the tournament," Charlie insisted.
"But I don't know anything about coaching!" Ms. MacKay said helplessly.
The ref skated over to Charlie and gave him a look that said. "Time's up."
"Here she is," Charlie said a bit sheepishly. "Our coach. Coach MacKay."
The team played along, saying "come on, Coach MacKay" and the like. Charlie relaxed a little.
Ms. MacKay gave a nervous shrug, then stood up on the boards and poked her head over the Plexiglas. "Well, what're you waiting for, the ice to freeze?" She barked. "Let's play!"
The ref shrugged and skated away. Phew, Charlie thought.
"Nice move, Charlie," Kaley said as Charlie hopped back in the box. "Ms. MacKay knows nothing about hockey!"
"We'll just have to help her out a little," Charlie said. "Don't worry. At least we're still in the tournament."
Towards the end of the first period, there was no score and Team USA was exhausted. "We look tired," Ms. MacKay said with a frustrated sigh. "We need to…trade places."
Charlie and Averman looked at each other quizzically. "Huh?" Averman asked.
"New players," Michele clarified.
"Oh!" Charlie's face brightened in understanding. "Say 'change it up.'"
Ms. MacKay did as she was told.
"Scream it," Charlie instructed.
"Change it up!" Michele hollered.
The players skated back to the box, and five more went to the ice. "Cool," Ms. MacKay said with a satisfied smile, crossing her arms.
"Finally," Kaley muttered, plopping down on the bench next to Charlie. "Could you have waited any longer to tell her to say that?"
Charlie was about to answer when a strange sound came from above them. "What's that?" Guy asked.
"Sounds like the Duck whistle," Kaley said.
"Well, look who finally showed up." Fulton stopped skating and looked to the middle row of the arena. Coach Bombay was walking towards the box, blowing the Duck whistle.
"Forget it, man," Jesse said. "Just ignore him."
"Bring it in!" Coach Bombay called as he reached the box. He looked different, Fulton thought with a start. The nerdy suit was gone, and so was the bad hair. In place of the suit were normal-looking blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and a USA varsity jacket. The wet hair was replaced by Coach Bombay's usual style, the one Kaley was always hassling him about.
Well, he's still our coach, Fulton said, following the rest of the team to the box. I wonder what words of wisdom he has for us now.
"Team…" Coach Bombay began, and then sighed. "Guys…I was wrong. I'm sorry. I forgot about the team, and the team is all I have. As long as we have that, there's another chance. I'm back, OK?" He straightened, a determined look on his face. "Believe me. I'm back."
The team broke into wild cheering. Fulton grinned. The old Coach Bombay was back.
The next day, practice was twice as hard. But the fun was there, and that made it all worthwhile.
Fun for everyone except Luis, that is. Luis stood on the ice in front of a stack of soda cans. This should be a stopping drill like no other, he thought.
"Luis, you speed is a great weapon." Jan placed a Pepsi can on the very top of the stack. "Now you must learn to harness it."
Right. That'll be the day. But Luis didn't voice his pessimism. He simply obeyed Jan's instructions and began to skate as fast as he could toward the pile of cans. But when he tried to stop, he failed.
"Argh!" Luis exclaimed as he crashed to the ice and obliterated the cans.
"Come on, Dwayne!" He heard Coach Bombay yelling. "Move that big butt! Go!"
Luis had to snicker. Dwayne? Big butt? "Jan, I'll never be able to stop," Luis said. "It's just not going to happen. Can't I just go back with everyone else?"
Jan pointed to the starting line, and Luis got the message.
After practice the team quickly changed into their street clothes and ran out to the bus. Coach Bombay had promised to treat them all to a pizza party that night.
"Come on, Banks!" Portman called as he rushed out of the locker room. "Let's go!"
"Be right there!" Adam answered. Making sure nobody was watching, he sat down on the bench and reached into his locker. Beneath his gym bag was a roll of ace bandages. Quickly, Adam began wrapping it around his right wrist. It had been bothering him even more since Sandersson slashed it during the disastrous Iceland game.
"Now imagine how well you'd play with two good wrists."
Adam froze. Oh, no, he thought. "Coach!" He said, trying to cover his guilt. "It's just a little sore."
Coach Bombay didn't buy it. Adam could tell. "I should have noticed it sooner," Coach Bombay said, moving closer. "Sorry, Adam. I wasn't doing my job."
"Coach, I'm fine," Adam said insistently. "I can play. I swear."
"OK." Coach Bombay leaned into Ken's locker and pulled out his stick. "Rotate it."
Adam reached for the stick with his left hand.
"With the other wrist," Coach Bombay instructed.
Mentally, Adam kicked himself. Coach Bombay wasn't that stupid. Adam took the stick in his right hand and tried to rotate it. But the stick wouldn't move. He looked at Coach Bombay, begging him to let the issue go. But the man's gaze was unwavering. Seeing he'd lost the battle, Adam dropped the stick and sat down on the bench.
"I'll have to bench you," Coach Bombay said, no regret in his voice.
"No!" Adam cried, looking up. "You can't do that!"
"Adam, you could injure yourself permanently," Coach Bombay said gently.
"You can't bench me!" Adam continued. "I have to play! The scouts are watching! This is my shot!"
"Adam, you're young," Coach Bombay pointed out. "You'll have plenty of shots."
"But my dad's counting on me!" Adam regretted the words almost as soon as they'd left his mouth. He'd made a promise to himself not to let everyone else know the pressure his dad was putting on him.
Coach Bombay's face softened. He sat down on the bench next to Adam. "Hey." Coach Bombay nudged Adam's knee, forcing him to look up. "My dad worked a lot when I was a kid. So when he made it to a game, I wanted so badly to score a hundred goals for him. I'd spend the whole game a nervous wreck; my stomach in knots."
"That's how I feel," Adam interjected.
Coach Bombay continued. "Before he died, my dad told me that his happiest times were watching me skate on the pond behind our house. He didn't need me to score a hundred goals for him. He was proud of me because I was his son, and I did my best. I'm sure that's how your dad feels."
But it's not, Adam wanted to say. It's not. Can't you see that?
"I know it is," Coach Bombay confirmed, obviously sensing Adam's uncertainty.
"Thanks, Coach," Adam said. His coach couldn't understand. Nobody could.
"Come on," Coach Bombay said. "Let's get that wrist looked at."
"Coach!" Charlie yelled excitedly, darting into his coach's office.
"Charlie?" Coach Bombay looked up from his desk. "What is it, Charlie?"
"With Banks out we've got one roster slot open," Charlie said. Adam's injury had turned out to be a stress fracture that Sandersson's blow had aggravated. He'd be able to play again, but not until after the Games.
"Right," Coach Bombay said slowly.
"Remember how I always said I'd make a better coach than a player?" Charlie asked. "I did some scouting."
"Scouting?" Coach Bombay asked, raising his eyebrows.
Charlie beckoned Russ into the room. "Russ Tyler, Coach Bombay," he announced.
"Hiya, Coach!" Russ said cheerfully.
"Well…Russ." Coach Bombay sat back, looking a bit overwhelmed. "What can you do for the team?"
Russ looked shocked. "You never heard of my knuckle puck?"
"Knuckle puck?" Coach Bombay asked with a slight laugh. "No."
The locker room after the USA/Russia game was a flurry of activity. USA had won, largely due to Russ' knuckle puck. Julie was hugging Connie when she heard Coach Bombay trying to make himself heard over the din. "I told him no visitors, but he wanted to congratulate you anyway."
Julie broke away from the hug and turned, looking for the "him" in question. Her jaw dropped when she saw who it was. Wayne Gretzky!
The slack jawed Team USA didn't stay slack jawed for long. All at once, they swarmed around Wayne like bees. "Wow!" "Wayne Gretzky!" "Can I shake your hand?"
"Guys, this is The Great One!" Charlie said, stating the obvious.
"Wayne's fine," Wayne insisted.
Tibbles tried to pose the ecstatic Team USA for a picture. When they finally posed around Wayne, Tibbles aimed the camera. "Everyone say, 'hockey!'" He ordered, his finger over the shutter release.
"HOCKEY!" Was the deafening chorus as Tibbles snapped the picture.