First Impressions and Old Wounds
Patti Brooks found herself walking into the office once again, just in time to witness her husband concluding yet another phone call, this time regarding the US Olympic hockey team. She wasn't particularly surprised by how swiftly Herb had sprung into action. With the US Olympic Committee demanding him to organize tryouts within a mere two weeks, Herb Brooks had a formidable task ahead of him, and time was of the essence.
"I believe I need to involve Clarie in this as well," Herb declared, his words hanging in the air with a palpable uncertainty that briefly overshadowed the otherwise celebratory atmosphere. A heavy silence settled in the room as they both grappled with the weight of the impending decision.
"Herb," Patti cautiously interjected, her voice tinged with concern.
Herb's stormy blue gaze shifted from his desk to his wife. "You have reservations about it," he observed, more as a statement than a question, both of them keenly aware of the potential consequences of making that call.
"I do not doubt that Clarie possesses the capability to assist you in achieving your vision," Patti began, carefully choosing her words. "However, being fully prepared to shoulder this immense responsibility is an entirely different matter. Are you truly willing to take that risk?"
Herb met her gaze with determination. "Yes,. I need her and it's been years since the incident and there's only one way to find out."
Patti's concerns were not unfounded. Previously, Clarie had joined Herb in guiding the University of Minnesota's boys' team, and she dramatically helped the team and with impressive results. Yet, the dynamics took a negative turn when Clarie and one of the team members, Caleb Danvers, started a romantic relationship. This affair ended in heartbreak, disrupting the team's harmony and Clarie's emotional state.
The fallout from Clarie and Caleb's relationship caused significant distress, with the team struggling to maintain unity in the wake of Caleb's actions towards Clarie. In fact, Clarie's best friend Robbie McClanahan ended up punching Caleb and almost breaking his nose. This incident not only affected the personal lives involved but also threatened the collective spirit and performance of the team, and it ended with Danvers transferring to another school.
With Herb now having Clarie helping him within the high-pressure environment of the US Olympic hockey team, memories of the previous debacle loomed large. Patti was haunted by the potential for history to repeat itself, jeopardizing both the team's success and Clarie's well-being.
Herb, for his part, had since adopted a strict policy prohibiting any romantic liaisons between players and Clarie. This however did not stop Clarie from having fun, Clarie was a flirt by nature. Despite her husband's best efforts, Patti remained apprehensive about the lasting effects of Clarie's past experiences and how they might resurface, particularly under the intense closeness and spotlight of the Olympic games.
Try Outs July, 1979
As Claire arrived at the arena, the buzz of excitement surrounding the tryouts,the lobby was filled with eager young hockey players, with their gear in hand brimming with anticipation for the tryouts ahead. She watched as they lined up to register, each one eager to pick up their number and have their picture taken.
As she made her way through the crowded lobby, Claire observed the organized chaos with fascination. Volunteers bustled about, ensuring that each player was accounted for and ready to take to the ice. The sound of cameras clicking filled the air as the boys posed for their official photos, their expressions ranging from confident to nervous anticipation
She caught the attention of some of the boys, who couldn't help but steal glances at them noting her beauty..
"Who's that?" one of them whispered to his friend, nodding subtly in Claire's direction.
"I don't know, but she's gorgeous," the other replied, his eyes lingering on her as she made her way through the crowd.
"Do you think she's lost?" another boy chimed in, earning a chuckle from the group.
Claire pretended not to notice their attention, though she couldn't help but feel a slight flush come over her face at being the subject of their conversation. however, she was used to being the center of attention, especially among a group of hockey players.
As she settled into her seat beside her father, Herb, Claire's focus shifted to the tryouts unfolding below. She watched with keen interest, recognizing some of the players her father had pointed out to her before.
"See that kid? Herb pointed out on the first day of training camp.
They were in the top box watching the tryouts going on below them.
Claire followed her father's gaze. "Mark Johnson, right?"
Every so often, her father would test her, and name a player to see what she had picked up. She knew that he was mainly doing it just to voice his thoughts.
"He's a great skater." She said, after a long moment.
"He's easily one of the best out there." Herb agreed and then continued to watch the players.
Claire did the same thing, just watching them in awe. She loved to skate and she loved to watch others skate. She had no real desire to play hockey, though she played scrimmage with friends sometimes, but to her, nothing beat watching the game. She was happiest on the sidelines, just basking in the player's joy and their skill.
Just then Herb's assistant coach, Craig Patrick entered the box.
"So Doc cleared him, he says it's just a sprain." Craig was referring to a player who had been injured earlier in the day.
"That's good," Herb said, looking down at a piece of paper.
"I just wanted you to know how much I'm looking forward to being able to coach with you," Craig told him.
Claire hid a smirk, wondering if Coach Patrick would still feel that way by the time Lake Placid rolled around. Her father was not always the easiest man to work with. Or to be related to, for that matter.
"You were one Hell of a player, Craig," Herb admitted. "You're gonna make one Hell of a Coach."
"And that's about the most praise Dad ever gives, so savor the moment," Clarie told Craig with a smirk.
Herb just shot her a look and continued to address Craig. "I'm gonna need you to stick too tight with these kids. If there are any big problems, you let me know, otherwise, you take care of it. That goes for you too, Clarie."
Claire nodded, she had been expecting that was how things had worked at the U.
However, Craig looked a little surprised. "Okay."
He looked even more surprised when Herb handed him the piece of paper he had been working on.
"What's this?" Craig asked.
"Twenty-six names," Herb answered. "The tough part's going to be getting it down to twenty before the opening ceremony."
"This is the final roster?" Craig gaped. "You're kidding me, right? This is our first day, Herb. We've got a week of this. What about the advisory staff, aren't they supposed to have a say in this?"
"Technically," Herb admitted.
"That means yes, but that he doesn't care." Claire translated for Craig, earning a glare from her father.
"You're missing some of the best players." Craig continued to protest.
Claire looked at her father expectantly, already knowing what he was going to say. She wasn't disappointed.
"I'm not looking for the best players, Craig, I'm looking for the right ones," Herb answered.
"You have Jim Craig to back up Steve Janaszak?" Craig asked, looking over the list again.
"Other way around," Herb answered.
"Other way around? I'm sorry didn't Janaszak just win you a National Championship?" Craig asked, seeming a little confused.
"You're not playing for the Nationals," Clarie answered before her father could. "Janney's solid, but not spectacular."
Craig shot her a look and then focused on Herb. "You know people I've talked to say Craig's game had been off since his mom died."
"Did they ever see him when his game was on?" Herb asked and then he walked away before Craig could say anything else.
Craig looked at Clarie. "Is he always like that?"
She smiled. "Always. It's part of his charm."
"So, are any of the dorms at the U willing to accommodate 26 people?" Craig asked, going directly to the point.
"Isn't Buzzy on the roster?"
"What's your point?" stated Herb
"He just got married. I can't imagine him being alright with having to live away from his wife for the next seven months."
"I'm not here to cater to what they want. I'm here to put a team together. You know that," he replied evenly. "Besides, it makes things easier for them to be in one place."
A while later, Clarie, Craig, and Doc stood at the bottom of the stands facing the large crowd of hopeful hockey players praying that their name was on the list. The players hung on every word listening to Coach Patrick start to read off the list of twenty-six names.
She was also watching for reactions, seeking out familiar faces and trying to put names to a few of the unfamiliar faces. She knew most of the names on the list, though there were one or two that she hadn't heard before, and she had been unsurprised by most of her father's choices.
" O'Callahan. McClanahan. Silk. Johnson. Craig. Cox. Eruzione. That's the roster for now. The rest of you, thanks for coming out."
After hearing Mac's name Clarie grinned proudly at her friend she was expecting him to make the team, after all, she had spent a good portion of the last three years in his company and knew what a great asset he would be to this team.
Everyone started to congratulate each other as some guy yelled above everyone else, "Way to go, Rizzo."
As the majority of the athletes exited, those who had secured their spots on the hockey team began to exchange congratulatory gestures, basking in their shared achievement.
Amid this, Coach Patrick started outlining the practice schedule and expectations.
However, there was a silent exchange unfolding as Claire's gaze settled on that of Jack O'Callahan, known among his Boston circle as "OC". Their eyes met, sparking an electric connection that neither could ignore, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them.
Clarie, with her striking ocean-blue eyes and blonde waves pulled back into a low pony only highlighted her natural beauty despite her casual attire of leggings and an oversized Minnesota sweatshirt. Her beauty, effortless and radiant, was undeniable.
Jack, with his unruly dark hair and piercing gaze, matched her intensity. The moment they locked eyes, a silent acknowledgment of attraction and a hint of something more profound passed between them, each admiring the other's striking features amidst the surrounding excitement.
Her father's voice momentarily interrupted their silent exchange. "Take a good look around, boys," his voice, unexpected even to Clarie, drew her attention away from Jack to her father descending the stairs.
"'Cause they're the ones getting off easy. We're putting a few of you on reserve, in case someone gets injured or their performance falters. The final roster will have twenty names on it, meaning more of you will be leaving. Give ninety-nine percent, and you're making my job very easy. I'm your coach, not your friend. My daughter, Clarie, over there—she might be your friend if she chooses. Otherwise, for friendship, you've got Doc or Coach Patrick."
He paused, then added sternly, "And gentlemen, cozying up to my daughter in hopes of gaining favor? Think again. It might just lead to your downfall."
"Thanks, Dad," Clarie retorted, her words laced with a playful sarcasm as she flashed a flirtatious smile towards the players.
The boys exchanged glances, some stifling chuckles while others looked surprised by Claire's boldness. Her casual demeanor eased the tension slightly, though Herb's admonition lingered in the back of their minds. Whispers were heard between some of the boys -
"She seems cool," one player remarked quietly.
"Yeah, but did you hear what Herb said?" another replied, his tone cautious.
"I wouldn't risk it," a third player added, nodding toward Claire with a knowing look.
"Congratulations," Craig addressed the group. "Before you celebrate, make sure to grab one of these. You've got a bit of homework to do."
Claire stifled a grin as she heard the collective groans from the players, anticipating their reaction to the test her father had prepared for them.
As the players queued to collect their tests, Clarie took her place, distributing them and offering congratulations to each player for making it this far into the selection process.
When Jack approached, the earlier spark reignited. Claire handed him the test, their fingers brushing slightly, a subtle but charged connection.
"Congratulations, Jack," she said, her voice carrying a mix of professionalism and an undercurrent of their shared moment earlier. "Looks like you've got a bit of homework," she added, a playful glint in her eyes hinting at the challenge the test posed and perhaps something more, an unspoken invitation to navigate this new dynamic between coach's daughter and player.
As Robbie strolled toward the exit, he stopped beside Claire with a teasingly friendly tone. "Hey there, beautiful."
Claire, unimpressed by his antics, rolled her eyes. "Hey, Mac," she replied, using the nickname favored by his teammates.
Offering Robbie a friendly hug, Claire congratulated him, her best friend, without a shred of doubt in her voice. "Congratulations, I knew you'd make the cut."
"Thinking of celebrating with us tonight? A bunch of us are heading out," he inquired with his characteristic confidence, assuming her presence was a given.
"And you're inviting the coach's daughter to join?" Claire countered, one eyebrow arched in skepticism.
He flashed a grin. "Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
Claire exhaled a weary sigh. "I'm not up for this, Mac."
"What exactly are you 'not up for'?" Robbie prodded, smirking.
"Just...this. It's become tiresome," she confessed.
"Ah, come on. It'll be fun," he urged, trying to sway her.
She merely shrugged, a gesture of indifference.
Robbie let out a resigned sigh. "Come on you have to come celebrate, your best friend just made the preliminary Olympic team. Just think about it, okay?" he said before departing.
Her attention was then drawn by her father's voice. "You should go," he suggested, having caught the tail end of her conversation with Robbie, her surprise evident given she thought he had left.
"Where did you pop up from?" she queried.
"Just finished talking with Walter," he explained. "He's not a fan of my methods."
"Shocking," Clarie responded, her tone laced with sarcasm.
Her father affectionately chided her, "Brat," then, looking her directly in the eyes, he reiterated, "You should go tonight."
Claire, taken aback by his advice, questioned, "Since when do you approve of me hanging out with your players?"
"I don't," Herb stated bluntly. "And let me be clear, I don't want you getting involved with any of them. They're all off-limits. But I do believe you should get to know them. Plus, you could use some fun."
Clarie couldn't help but scoff. "Fun? Is that what we're calling it now?" she challenged, incredulous at the notion of her father endorsing a night out with the team.
"Not exactly. I'm suggesting you do your part and familiarize yourself with the team. And stick to soda," he added, setting his expectations.
Realizing the underlying duty in his words, Clarie resignedly agreed, "Fine. I'll go."