Chapter 11 – Words of Wisdom
If Ted had been hoping that the tie would light a fire under Conway and Fulton and make them realize what was on the line, he'd been wrong.
He showed up at the Eden Hall rink at five a.m. sharp and saw all the other Ducks there but no Conway or Fulton.
"Anyone know where Conway and Fulton are at?" he called to all the kids.
"We don't know, Coach," answered Germaine with a shrug.
Moreau and Gaffney were both still yawning heavily, rubbing their eyes.
Ted sighed. "I can't waste practice time waiting for them. And you all know why you're here and what we need to work on. We need our heads back on straight before we play Coon Rapids High School next Saturday because the dean talked to me after that tie last night. He said we need wins, or the board would seriously consider revoking your scholarships."
That woke the kids up, especially Gaffney; she looked infuriated. "WHAT?" she screamed.
"NO!" thundered Mendoza.
"They can't do that!" added Wu.
"Yeah! They can't! I've been getting A's or better so far in every class!" Averman defended.
"And I'm in AP bio, and Dean Buckley told me I'm being considered for the honor roll!" Julie protested.
"That's why today, I'm going to push you all harder," Ted said, cutting off their cries of indignation. "We've gotta give those board members a reason to keep you here. That means we've got to work twice as hard and prove to them that you all belong. I'm not gonna let them kick you kids out that easily."
"Yes, Coach," they all replied.
"All right, let's warm up. Twenty laps, ten one way, then ten the other way. Let's get to work!" He blew his whistle sharply, watching the kids scatter up and onto their feet. Halfway through laps, he saw neither Fulton nor Conway showing up, which meant he would make them stay even longer after practice on Monday afternoon because he did not want this negativity to bleed over onto the rest of the team. Conway might've been able to influence Fulton into following him, but Ted was pleased to know the rest of the Ducks were taking this practice seriously. He watched them after they stopped skating laps around the rink and then had them do more defense drills. But when seven o'clock came, just as he was having the kids do a scrimmage, Conway and Fulton arrived, not even dressed in their pads; they were still in pajamas.
"Look who decided to show up!" Ted barked, glowering at Conway and Fulton, somehow beginning to feel even more pissed off than he felt last night over the draw. He skated over to Conway and Fulton, who were about to get dressed in the locker room. "What time did I tell you to be here?" he demanded.
He didn't receive an answer from either boy.
"Five a.m., not seven!" he snapped. "Don't even bother getting changed; practice is almost over, anyway. After practice, step into my office. We need to talk." He sharply turned back to the others, who were going hard and hauling ass. Goldberg was the standout – the heavy goalie pads might've hindered his massive size, but without them, he could move and knock some people around; it made Ted think that Goldberg would serve them much better as another defensive player. They needed more muscle, and Goldberg could bring forth just that.
Finally, at seven-thirty, he blew his whistle, cutting off practice. "All right; excellent job today! I think we've got our heads back on straight. I'll see you all on Monday morning; we'll only practice for an hour because you've got classes at nine a.m., so be here at six a.m. Sharp. And then, on Monday afternoon, you all better come ready to work. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Coach Orion!"
"All right, go hit the showers and enjoy the rest of your weekend." He watched as they skated off to the locker room; Conway and Fulton remained on the bench where he told them to be. After changing his skates for his shoes, he gestured for the boys to follow him into his office.
Once in his office, he turned to face the boys, who stood there stony-faced, drawn and pale, and in a bad mood, but Ted couldn't give a crap about their pissy attitudes, not when they had so much on the line.
"Look, you two, when I tell you to be here at five, you be here at five," he said sternly. "The next time you are late, I will bench you both, and you won't be playing in our game against the Cardinals because I need you two to take this seriously. I can think of a lot of other things I could be doing; I could be in bed at home asleep right now. Instead, I am here because we cannot have what happened last night happen again. If you are late for practice, if you do not do your part to play defense, that is not your best! You got that?"
He was met with no answer from either of them.
"Listen, I know you two can score. That's not a problem. I don't care about wins; even if we did win that game, I wouldn't have been happy because I know that what you both displayed out there wasn't defense," he continued. "We need better than your best if we're going to play a decent game next week."
"I was trying to get us the win," Conway finally gritted out.
"And none of that mattered," Ted stressed. "That's why I'm having you two here tomorrow morning, five a.m. And you better be on time. And if neither of you shows up, you'll get a lot less playing time, and I will contact your parents and let them know of your disciplinary issues. Are we clear?"
He got no answer.
"Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir," grumbled Conway.
"Sure," Fulton replied.
"Then I will see the both of you here tomorrow – five a.m. And I mean it; I'm not playing around here. Get out."
He watched as Conway and Fulton begrudgingly left, not even trying to disguise their resentment.
His daughter's first hockey game against the Jets was just what he needed. After dealing with Conway and Fulton's attitudes, he looked forward to relaxing and watching his kid play. He was forever grateful to Gordon for arguing that Lucy should be allowed to play hockey with the Ducks. All it took was some extra funding on Hans's part to get Lucy the necessary equipment, like her sled and sticks.
He was pleased that she was on the first line as defense today instead of the third line, meaning those coaches realized she brought much value to the game. Watching her maneuver along the ice, her tiny body so agile, it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. For so long, Ted fantasized about putting his children in ice hockey – when his daughter told him she wanted to play, he didn't hesitate to sign her up; sure, they dealt with protests from the Ducks' coaches, thinking there would be no way to accommodate her, but they fought it, and now, Lucy was on the team, one of the only two little girls among a bunch of boys, the other girl being Connie Moreau's little sister, Sadie.
It was refreshing watching the little kids play. Seeing them playing and enjoying themselves reminded him of how simple things could be when you weren't worrying constantly about a bunch of teenagers' attitudes – he corrected himself, Conway's attitude – because Conway was the force that was fracturing things, whether the boy realized that or not.
Lucy was a natural; even though she was the tiniest one, he knew she'd grow up even taller as she got older. She was like him in that regard. Everyone underestimated her because of her disability. Now, they saw how much value she brought to the team, and it wasn't just because she was Ted Orion's daughter.
Seeing Lucy do her part to play defense, he saw her encouraging her other teammates to do the same, getting them to communicate and focus on defense when it counted. She was a true team player, and he felt his pride soar; it was as though all the stress he'd gone through last night had been worth it.
He watched from where he stood off to the side with the other coaches. Next year, he'd be assistant coaching; for now, he was filling the role of "hockey mom" as Bella was stuck at work and wanted to ensure his little girl had a parent there supporting her.
"She's got great potential," said the newly-appointed mites coach, Quinn Tingman; his father, Jim, was currently the trainer for the Calgary Flames, and his own son, Daryl, was expected to play on the Ducks when he hit the age. "I never should've underestimated her, Orion."
"Good, I'm glad you see it now," Ted said.
"But even if she weren't in the wheelchair, why wouldn't you have tried to put her in something like dance classes or figure skating? Maybe buy her some Barbies and princess dresses?" Coach Tingman asked.
"I can't, Tingman," Ted said, shaking his head. "She loves hockey." He grinned as he watched Lucy clear the puck out of the zone, moving quickly along the ice toward the Jets' zone; they were leading the final period with two to one; they either needed one more goal, or they could tighten up on defense and prevent the Jets from scoring more. Ted hoped his daughter would influence her little friends to prioritize defense, especially as he watched little Seth Germaine (Guy Germaine's little brother) score the next goal for the Ducks.
"Good job, Seth! Way to show them, son!" Coach Tingman yelled. "Nice shot!"
The game ended in the Ducks' favor of three to one, which Coach Tingman seemed especially pleased about. After praising the kids, he cut them loose, and Ted grinned broadly at his little girl, leaning down to hug her tightly and kiss her.
"You did so good!" he said. "You were amazing out there, baby! I knew you could do it!"
"Thanks, Daddy!"
"Come on! Let's get you showered; afterward, we'll go and pay a visit to Santa Clause!"
Lucy beamed brightly as he helped her off her sled and into her wheelchair. Once they were in the locker room, Ted proceeded to help her shower away from all the other kids; afterward, he braided her hair again, put her bows in her hair, and got her dressed in her skirt and T-shirt before pushing her out to his Land Rover. He strapped her into the backseat and drove off to Hans's, knowing Hans would have lunch ready for them.
Once they stopped in front of Hans's, he got his daughter back into her wheelchair and proceeded to push her along, but he stopped short when he saw Conway sharpening skates in the window.
Watching the kid sharpen the skates, Ted saw another side to the boy; he looked a little bit at ease, but Ted could also see from the distance that the kid looked sad over something. Even from where he stood, Ted could see the boy's eyes were bright with tears.
He recalled what Bella told him the other night: Charlie was hurting over something. But Ted couldn't begin to guess what it was because Charlie wasn't letting him help or teach him anything. If only Conway would just let his guard down and let Ted show him that all he was doing was trying to help him . . .
It only softened him a little bit, however. As sympathetic as Ted felt for the kid, Conway's attitude was simply unacceptable. His lateness today proved that the kid had a massive chip on his shoulder and that whatever upset him so much, he was not at all willing to share.
Ted continued to watch until Conway finally stopped sharpening the blade on the skate; he watched as Conway left the shop, wiping his eyes, not at all noticing that Ted was standing there watching him, just like how he never knew that Ted had been there at the Peewees championship in winter of '92 watching him score that winning goal in overtime.
Once assured that Conway was a good distance away, Ted pushed Lucy along until they were inside the skate shop. As soon as Lucy saw Hans, she rolled right up to him.
"Hi, Santa Clause," she said, hugging him around the middle. Since she was three, Lucy dubbed Hans "Santa Clause" because he looked the way she imagined Santa to look – big-bellied, jolly, gray-haired, sparkly eyes. It helped that Hans delivered Christmas presents to the Orion household every year.
Hans chuckled, pecking Lucy on the top of the head. "Hi, Lucy. Hi Ted. Are you two hungry?"
"Starved," Ted said as he and Lucy followed Hans to the living room, where a plate of sandwiches awaited them, along with a juice box for Lucy and a bottle of water for Ted.
"Did you listen to the game last night?" Ted asked Hans as he ate his roast beef sandwich.
"Four p.m. sharp," Hans said. "I'm sorry it was a tie. That must've been hard."
"If only I can get Conway to take it seriously," Ted said. "Dean Buckley told me that if those kids don't start winning, the board will throw them all out."
"It's not about winning, Ted; you're teaching them something valuable. That's what they'll remember long after they graduate."
"But I still don't get it; Conway's the problem. I need to get him to stop fighting me at every turn. Today, he showed up two hours late; he shows up late to every practice. I can't even get him to back-check. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."
"He's hurting, Teddy," Hans said gently. "It isn't my place to say, but the boy never had a father before Bombay. So, when Gordon left, it was like his father left him."
"And I sympathize with that," Ted argued. "But what I can't sympathize with is his childish attitude. Last night at the game, I saw the poor sportsmanship he displayed. I expect that kind of behavior from my six-year-old, and even she doesn't do that! She never talks back to me and throws a fit like this kid does. Every time I try to talk to him, it's a fight! I don't know what to do!"
"He's even more like you than you know," Hans said gently. "If I recall correctly, you had his rebelliousness."
"Yeah, when I was eleven."
"And in high school, too. You've always concerned yourself with sticking up for your friends, even at the great expense of your own reputation. Charlie sees it as him standing up for those he cares about. Did you know his friend, the small one . . . Wu, has been getting his lunch stolen by the Varsity team every day since they arrived at the school?"
That Ted hadn't been aware of. His kids were being bullied? To what extent? Sure, he was aware that the Varsity hockey team at Eden Hall was notorious for consisting of bullies, but he didn't know the Ducks were getting picked on. "No, I didn't," he admitted sheepishly.
Hans nodded gently. "I think you should let them hear your story." He gestured to Lucy, who flipped through hockey magazines as she ate her lunch. "Because if you are going to get those children to trust you . . ."
"They're not little kids anymore," Ted argued.
"But they are still children," Hans argued. "If you're going to earn their trust, you must let them see another side of you, let them see that you are more like them than they know. Because right now, they feel no one is on their side. And Charlie feels he's on an island all on his own; I've been trying to reach him, but it's like he keeps slipping away."
"That's how I feel."
"Then show them what it means to play defense, Teddy. Show them who you are."
I added in the detail of Coach Tingman, because I do eventually want to do an epilogue that will tie into the Game Changers canon. And I made a slight reference to the actor who played Coach T, whose father is the head coach for the Calgary Flames, which was a detail that I found to be so cool about the Game Changers show.