Adam Banks stared at the cake on the table in front of him, it was covered in thick, black, butter cream icing. The head of a hawk drawn flawlessly in white frosting in the center, with the words 'Congratulations Adam' written above the bird in royal blue. His stomach was doing summersaults in anticipation of the first, sense disrupting, mind blowingly sweet bight.
"Now Phillip, it isn't fair to get his hopes up like that. What if he doesn't make the team? Don't you think it'll only make him feel worse after you made such an enormous deal about it?" Adam could hear his mother scold his father from the other room.
"Regina, please try to be positive about this. Adam was born for this, he's a natural, better then any of the other kids that tried out today." Phillip retorted.
"He's right mom," Nicholas, Adam's older brother added "I was there, he was great, the best. And Coach Reilly only wants the best. Heck Adam's better at his age then I am now and Reilly took me."
Adam sighed, he'd been sitting alone with that cake for nearly twenty minutes and his ten year old patience was starting to ware thin. He'd had a fantastic try out, he could feel it in his bones that he'd made the team. So, then why did he have to wait for the stupid phone call to eat the cake?
It did ring finally though and Adam picked his head up from his eye to eye glare with the Hawk and looked over at the living room, where his family was still too busy arguing to answer it. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen to pick it up.
"Hello, Banks' residence. This is he. Really? Are you serious? Awesome! Yeah, yeah. I'll be there. Thank you." The boy put the receiver back on the hook and with one last fisting pumping "YES!!" he ran to tell his parents and brother.
Then coming to a stop of few feet away from the doorway, he slowed his place and walked in casually. He knocked comically on the door jam to gain their attention and when everyone looked he asked.
"Am I interrupting?"
"No sweetie." His mother turned to him with a smile. "What is it?"
"That was Coach Reilly on the phone." Adam tried his best to look disappointed.
"I didn't hear the phone ring." Nicholas announced as if anyone was listening to him.
Phillip's heart began to pound.
"What did he say son?"
Adam shrugged and looked at his shoes.
"Just that I made the team!" He yelled jumping up and down "I get to play hockey!"
Phillip's face swelled with pride, to him there was no team better then the Hawks, they were the best, and playing for the best made you the best. There was nothing more important to him, then being the best. He was the best corporate lawyer in his district, Regina was the best decorator at her interior design firm, Nicholas was the best student at his prestigious high school, now Adam would be the best player on the best team in the league.
"That's fantastic son." Phil patted his youngest child on the back. "Let's go outside and practice some before it gets dark."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Nicholas dashed upstairs, then came racing back down with a hockey stick in his hand. "Here Adam, this is the stick I used when we won the state championship. From one Hawk to another, maybe it'll bring you luck."
Adam frowned, he didn't want his brothers old stick and he didn't want to practice. He wanted to eat his cake, celebrate and have a little fun before the season started.
"Thanks Nick." He said half heartedly taking the gift from his brother. "But I already have a stick."
"You know Adam, when Nicholas first joined the team, I took him to pick out any idem he wanted at the sporting good store, that's where he got that stick. What do you say we go get you something special?" Before his son had the chance to object Phillip had pushed him out of the door and into the car.
The bell jingled on the door at a small hockey shop in Minneapolis. All the merchandise inside had character, everything was different from another. It was very different from the big chain store they usually went to for hockey stuff, but Phil had heard through the grapevine that Hans's Hockey was the place to go for, the most high quality stuff. Hans believed in the right thing for each player, not just diving them all the same supplies that didn't fit them.
A older man, that looked to be in sixties walked out from the back of the shop and put a freshly sharpened pair of skates down on the shelf.
"How can I help you?" He asked Adam in his Scandinavian accent.
"This is my first season playing in the peewee's, my father said I could get anything I wanted as a reward." The boy replied fingering a pair of pads, that were hanging next to him.
"Uhuh, let me look at you." Hans smiled as Adam looked up at him. "I'd say you're a Hawk." He declared.
The boy was stunned.
"How'd you know?"
The man laughed at the look on his face.
"I've been looking at hockey players for almost forty years. You look like a Hawk."
"My names Adam Banks. Well anyway, my brother he got a new stick when he started playing and he still has it, it's like his good luck charm. He offered it to me, but I sort of wanted to have a special one of my own."
Hans walked over to the rack and pulled out the first stick he saw and handed it to him. It was the right size and from what he judged of the boy it would be the right wait, but he knew it wasn't the right stick for him. It was a test.
"I think this one here, will be the one to win you, you games."
Adam looked at and ran his hands over it. It was certainly pretty, bright and shiny, painted silver and blue, but it wasn't what he wanted.
"Winning isn't that important, I just wanna play, and have fun while I'm doing it." He told the man putting the stick back.
Hans nodded and smiled again.
"Are you sure you're going to be a Hawk?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No Hawk has ever refused the stick I gave them, when I practically guaranteed them a winning season. Forty years and that has never happened. I wonder now, if you have the heart of the Hawk. Well Adam Banks, I think maybe this one is more for you."
When Adam left that night, he had a simple stick, that felt just right in his hands. He was ready to play and wondering what Hans had meant by 'the heat of a hawk'.
"Now Phillip, it isn't fair to get his hopes up like that. What if he doesn't make the team? Don't you think it'll only make him feel worse after you made such an enormous deal about it?" Adam could hear his mother scold his father from the other room.
"Regina, please try to be positive about this. Adam was born for this, he's a natural, better then any of the other kids that tried out today." Phillip retorted.
"He's right mom," Nicholas, Adam's older brother added "I was there, he was great, the best. And Coach Reilly only wants the best. Heck Adam's better at his age then I am now and Reilly took me."
Adam sighed, he'd been sitting alone with that cake for nearly twenty minutes and his ten year old patience was starting to ware thin. He'd had a fantastic try out, he could feel it in his bones that he'd made the team. So, then why did he have to wait for the stupid phone call to eat the cake?
It did ring finally though and Adam picked his head up from his eye to eye glare with the Hawk and looked over at the living room, where his family was still too busy arguing to answer it. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen to pick it up.
"Hello, Banks' residence. This is he. Really? Are you serious? Awesome! Yeah, yeah. I'll be there. Thank you." The boy put the receiver back on the hook and with one last fisting pumping "YES!!" he ran to tell his parents and brother.
Then coming to a stop of few feet away from the doorway, he slowed his place and walked in casually. He knocked comically on the door jam to gain their attention and when everyone looked he asked.
"Am I interrupting?"
"No sweetie." His mother turned to him with a smile. "What is it?"
"That was Coach Reilly on the phone." Adam tried his best to look disappointed.
"I didn't hear the phone ring." Nicholas announced as if anyone was listening to him.
Phillip's heart began to pound.
"What did he say son?"
Adam shrugged and looked at his shoes.
"Just that I made the team!" He yelled jumping up and down "I get to play hockey!"
Phillip's face swelled with pride, to him there was no team better then the Hawks, they were the best, and playing for the best made you the best. There was nothing more important to him, then being the best. He was the best corporate lawyer in his district, Regina was the best decorator at her interior design firm, Nicholas was the best student at his prestigious high school, now Adam would be the best player on the best team in the league.
"That's fantastic son." Phil patted his youngest child on the back. "Let's go outside and practice some before it gets dark."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Nicholas dashed upstairs, then came racing back down with a hockey stick in his hand. "Here Adam, this is the stick I used when we won the state championship. From one Hawk to another, maybe it'll bring you luck."
Adam frowned, he didn't want his brothers old stick and he didn't want to practice. He wanted to eat his cake, celebrate and have a little fun before the season started.
"Thanks Nick." He said half heartedly taking the gift from his brother. "But I already have a stick."
"You know Adam, when Nicholas first joined the team, I took him to pick out any idem he wanted at the sporting good store, that's where he got that stick. What do you say we go get you something special?" Before his son had the chance to object Phillip had pushed him out of the door and into the car.
The bell jingled on the door at a small hockey shop in Minneapolis. All the merchandise inside had character, everything was different from another. It was very different from the big chain store they usually went to for hockey stuff, but Phil had heard through the grapevine that Hans's Hockey was the place to go for, the most high quality stuff. Hans believed in the right thing for each player, not just diving them all the same supplies that didn't fit them.
A older man, that looked to be in sixties walked out from the back of the shop and put a freshly sharpened pair of skates down on the shelf.
"How can I help you?" He asked Adam in his Scandinavian accent.
"This is my first season playing in the peewee's, my father said I could get anything I wanted as a reward." The boy replied fingering a pair of pads, that were hanging next to him.
"Uhuh, let me look at you." Hans smiled as Adam looked up at him. "I'd say you're a Hawk." He declared.
The boy was stunned.
"How'd you know?"
The man laughed at the look on his face.
"I've been looking at hockey players for almost forty years. You look like a Hawk."
"My names Adam Banks. Well anyway, my brother he got a new stick when he started playing and he still has it, it's like his good luck charm. He offered it to me, but I sort of wanted to have a special one of my own."
Hans walked over to the rack and pulled out the first stick he saw and handed it to him. It was the right size and from what he judged of the boy it would be the right wait, but he knew it wasn't the right stick for him. It was a test.
"I think this one here, will be the one to win you, you games."
Adam looked at and ran his hands over it. It was certainly pretty, bright and shiny, painted silver and blue, but it wasn't what he wanted.
"Winning isn't that important, I just wanna play, and have fun while I'm doing it." He told the man putting the stick back.
Hans nodded and smiled again.
"Are you sure you're going to be a Hawk?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No Hawk has ever refused the stick I gave them, when I practically guaranteed them a winning season. Forty years and that has never happened. I wonder now, if you have the heart of the Hawk. Well Adam Banks, I think maybe this one is more for you."
When Adam left that night, he had a simple stick, that felt just right in his hands. He was ready to play and wondering what Hans had meant by 'the heat of a hawk'.