Body Check Page 2

  “We’ll use the umbrella formation for a power play today,” the coach said. He put Ted in the middle of the rink, just in front of the blue line that separates the team’s offensive zone from center ice. Brent and Sandy, another wing, went to either side of Ted, and two other forwards set up near the goal, one on each side.

  “The idea is to make quick passes between the pivot and the wings,” said the coach. “You may force the defense into an error and create an opening for an outside shot. Or maybe one of the guys near the goal might be left open. If so, get him the puck.

  “The problem is, there’s no one back on defense except the goalie. If a defender intercepts a pass, he might go all the way and maybe score a shorthanded goal. Be careful with your passes. Now, let’s put a defense out there.”

  He placed four defenders, including Cam and Vic, in a diamond formation, with Cam by the pivot man, one defender on each side, and one player in front of the goalie.

  The coach said, “Think of zone defense in basketball. Each defender guards an area. Don’t overload one side, or the offense can pass to where the defense is thin and get a shot. If you get the puck, just shoot it down toward their goal. Make them use penalty time skating back to recover it. The idea of penalty killing is to deny them shots on goal for two minutes. I’ll give Ted the puck and call time after two minutes — unless there’s a goal. Ready… go”

  Ted slapped a pass to Brent. Brent saw that the forwards near the goal weren’t open, so he passed back to Ted, skating down the ice as he did. Ted fired a backhander to Sandy, who tried to get the puck to Brent. But Cam darted forward, took the puck, and rocketed it down to the other goal, forcing Ted to retrieve it.

  “Good D!” called Coach Maxwell.

  “Way to go!” added Mr. Seabrook.

  On their next try, Cam made a mistake and skated directly in front of Chip, the goalie, blocking his view of the play. Brent flipped the puck to Ted, who sent a lightning-fast puck to the wing just left of the goalmouth. He slipped the puck past the goalie’s stick for a goal.

  Coach Maxwell whistled, and play stopped. “You have to stay in the zone you’re guarding, or problems happen. Cam, you see what went wrong there?”

  Cam nodded, grinning sheepishly. “I went too far across and got in Chip’s way.”

  “Okay, that’s how we learn,” the coach said. “Let’s get another group on the ice.”

  “Coach, if you like, I’ll take these guys to the other end while you work with the rest,” offered Mr. Seabrook.

  “Okay,” said Coach Maxwell.

  Mr. Seabrook went to the end of the rink with the first group. He gave Ted the puck to start play. Ted and the two wings passed the puck around, looking for an opening, but the defenders stayed put, and no shots were possible for the first thirty seconds.

  Ted sent the puck to Sandy, a good stick-handler. Sandy moved in on Vic, hoping to bring Vic toward him so he could pass to a player near the goal or take a shot himself. But Vic suddenly charged Sandy, who was caught by surprise. Before Sandy could pass or shoot, Vic rammed him with a shoulder and raised forearm. Staggering, Sandy avoided falling but lost control of the puck.

  Brent waited for Mr. Seabrook to say or do something about the obvious foul. Mr. Seabrook clapped and said, “Way to hustle, guys! Let’s set up again.”

  It looked to Brent as if Sandy might speak up, but he didn’t. Nobody else said a word. Had Brent been the only one to see it?

  He decided he’d better say nothing. Without someone to back him up, he didn’t want to make trouble. But this time, he was sure. Vic committed a foul, and Mr. Seabrook — Coach Seabrook — did nothing.

  A little while later, Coach Maxwell called, “Okay, that’s it. Let’s stretch.” While the players stretched, the coaches talked quietly.

  Afterward, Coach Maxwell said, “Starting tomorrow, Coach Seabrook will spend part of every practice working with the defense and goalies while I stay with the forwards. He was a defense specialist in his playing days. Coach, care to say anything?”

  Mr. Seabrook smiled brightly. “I’ll only say that I look forward to working with you boys and helping you be winners.”

  Winners. Somehow, this didn’t sound right to Brent. Coach Maxwell never emphasized winning. He stressed teamwork and doing your best Winning was nice, when it happened, but was that really the bottom line?

  As he changed into his street clothes, he didn’t take part in the usual locker-room chatter. He was still quiet when he and Cam went to wait for Cam’s mother to pick them up.

  Cam finally said, “What’s going on? You haven’t said a word since we left the ice.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Brent said.

  “Uh-huh,” Cam replied. “Something’s on your mind, I know it. Come on, spit it out.”

  Brent shook his head. “Well, okay, but you won’t like it. It’s the Seabrooks.”

  Cam rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

  Brent described what Vic had done to Sandy. “His father was right there and saw it, and he didn’t do anything.”

  “Shoulder checks are legal,” Cam pointed out. “I use them all the time.”

  “Not when you use a raised forearm, too. That’s a foul,” Brent said. “That’s what Vic did. Didn’t you see it?”

  “Hey, I was busy guarding people,” Cam said. “What about Sandy? He didn’t complain. Nobody else did, either.”

  “I know,” said Brent. “But I saw what I saw. This time, I’m right.”

  Cam scratched his head. “Okay, I know you’re not crazy. Maybe Vic did what you say he did, and maybe his father didn’t call him on it. Maybe Mr. Seabrook didn’t want to make trouble for his son, or something, I don’t know. But all I can say is, I think you should just be cool and see how things go. That’s what I’m going to do. Maybe everything will turn out to be all right. If it doesn’t, then… well, I don’t know. But for now, why not wait and see?”

  Brent nodded. “Guess you’re right. That’s the best way to go.”

  One thing was for sure. He hoped he was wrong about the Seabrooks.

  3

  When Brent had a problem, he usually discussed it with his big brother, Lee, especially if the problem concerned hockey. Lee was the star center on his high-school team. He was their leading scorer and was almost sure to be the team captain when he became a senior next year.

  So that evening after dinner, Brent asked Lee if he could talk to him.

  “Sure,” Lee answered. “Come on upstairs.” They went to Lee’s room, which had posters on the walls of Lee’s favorite players, Wayne Gretzky, Bobby Orr, and Mark Messier.

  “I figured something was on your mind at dinner when you only had two helpings of chicken,” Lee said. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about this new guy on the team,” said Brent. “Well, him and his father. Cam says I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but I don’t think so. Only, maybe he’s right, I don’t know. Maybe I’m unfair. Except I haven’t really made a big deal, not yet, anyway —”

  Lee held up a hand. “Whoa, slow down! Start from the beginning and take your time.”

  Brent explained about the arrival of Mr. Seabrook and his son, and what Vic had done, or might have done, that day at practice. He also talked about the way Mr. Seabrook had ignored Vic’s obvious fouls.

  “And now he’ll be coaching with Coach Maxwell. When he talked to us, he said he’d help us become ‘winners.’ Coach Maxwell says that if you give it your best and play as a team, you’re a winner no matter what the score is.”

  “Maybe that’s what Mr. Seabrook meant,” Lee suggested. “Is that possible?”

  This hadn’t occurred to Brent. “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t think so. Cam probably thinks that’s the way it is.”

  “Cam’s right about one thing, for sure,” said Lee. “You don’t want to go off half-cocked about this. Coach Maxwell would probably say the same thing.”

  Brent nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I get a fe
eling about them.”

  Sitting on his bed, Lee leaned back against the wall. “Well, I know that there are people in hockey who don’t believe in playing by the rules, if they can get away with it. Players, coaches, parents, fans — they’re out there. I haven’t come across a lot of them. A few are bad enough, of course. Still, I don’t think there are a lot of rotten apples.”

  “Did you ever meet guys like that — you know, goons — with the Badgers?”

  Lee shook his head. “Nope. I heard about teams that were supposed to play dirty, but they were never in our league.”

  “How about now? In school?”

  Lee thought about it. “There are guys we call enforcers. They’re usually not real good in basic skills. They aren’t fast or good stick-handlers; they don’t shoot well or get many assists. You know. So they try to make up for what they can’t do by hitting hard. They’ll slam into the other team, hip checks, shoulder checks, whatever.

  “But even enforcers usually play clean. They may be rough, but they play by the rules. We have guys like that, and you know what? I’m glad. Some teams try to intimidate you early in games by laying some big hits on you. When you have an enforcer, you can send them a message: It won’t work. You’ll have to outplay us, because you can’t out-tough us. Hey, hockey’s a physical sport. You get going really fast, people bang into each other, sometimes people lose their cool a little. That’s the game, and enforcers have a place in it. But dirty players and cheaters don’t.”

  Brent said, “I can understand that.”

  Lee added, “Maybe this new coach just wants your team to stand up against more aggressive teams. Could that be what he’s saying when he talks about being winners?”

  “I guess,” answered Brent, not at all sure. “It sounds like you’re saying I should wait and see, for now.”

  “Don’t you think that’s the best thing to do?” asked Lee.

  Brent said, “But what if I’m right about Vic and Mr. — Coach Seabrook. What then?”

  Lee chewed his lower lip. “Well, if it turns out you’re right, more people will see for themselves. Coach Maxwell really knows the game. He’s still the smartest hockey coach I ever met. He’ll know if something isn’t the way it ought to be, and so will other players. Probably some parents, too. You’ll find that you won’t be alone in wanting something to be done to fix the problem. if there’s a problem.”

  Brent suddenly felt better. “Yeah. I guess what was bothering me was I thought it was all on me, that I was alone. But if stuff keeps happening, then I won’t be alone, will I? That’s good to remember.”

  “No, you’ll have people standing up with you, I guarantee it,” Lee said. “And don’t forget, it may turn out that you were wrong and that they’re really okay. There’s a good chance of that.”

  “I hope so,” said Brent. “Yeah, Vic may just turn out to be our enforcer. I mean, he sure isn’t much of a skater.”

  “It’s like I said,” his brother pointed out. “Enforcers usually aren’t fantastic skaters. Maybe his dad figures that Vic will do better if he plays physical, aggressive hockey. That could be his whole deal, you know? He’s just trying to look out for his son.”

  Brent smiled. “I understand that, if that’s what he wants. According to Coach Maxwell, Mr. Seabrook was a defenseman when he played. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a defensive-minded coach to work with Coach Maxwell.”

  “Absolutely not,” agreed Lee.

  Brent stood up. “Thanks,” he said. “I feel a lot better. I’ll tell Cam what you said. And I hope that it turns out that Vic is a nice guy who just needed a little time to get used to being here.”

  “I hope so, too,” said Lee.

  4

  Cam was buckling his shin pads when Brent sat down next to him in the locker room. The two friends usually suited up together.

  “Hey!” Cam said, reaching for his other pad. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much.” Brent began pulling gear out of his athletic bag. “Oh, yeah, I wanted to tell you, I talked to Lee last night. About… you know… ”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Cam. “And?”

  Just then, Vic walked by with his bag on one shoulder and his stick over the other. The two watched him go. Brent told himself to keep an open mind about Vic, but there was something that rubbed him the wrong way, even in Vic’s walk… a kind of swagger.

  Brent said, “Lee agrees that I’m making too much out of too little.”

  Cam grinned. “I always knew Lee was a smart guy. So, now are you convinced?”

  “Yeah.” Brent sat down, keeping his voice low. “Well, actually, you pretty much convinced me yesterday. But I just wanted to talk to Lee anyway. I mean, he knows the game better than I do.”

  “So you’re not going to go around bad-mouthing Vic and his dad? You’ll give them a chance?” Cam asked.

  “Right, that’s what I said.” Brent felt a little annoyed at Cam. After all, he hadn’t “gone around bad-mouthing Vic and his dad,” all he’d done was talk quietly to Cam and Lee. It wasn’t like he’d tried to get Vic thrown off the team. But he hoped his irritation didn’t show as he said, “I want to ask you one thing.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “If you notice anything that makes it look like I was right… tell me, okay?”

  Cam frowned. “You still don’t sound like you’re convinced.”

  “I said I’d keep my mind open,” Brent replied. “I’m asking you to do the same thing.”

  “Sure,” Cam said. “Hey, I don’t want anyone on the team who doesn’t follow rules, any more than you do. For one thing, it’ll hurt the team. For another, I don’t like it.”

  “Okay, then,” Brent said. They finished putting on their protective gear and workout clothes but left their skates off until the team had gone through their stretching routine.

  Coach Maxwell led the stretching himself. He liked to say that it was the best insurance against injury. The players gathered in a cleared-out section of the locker room, where they could lie full-length on the floor. They went through a dozen exercises designed to keep their ligaments and muscles flexible. Coach Seabrook, wearing sweats and carrying a whistle, watched and once in a while said things that were meant to sound encouraging. “That’s it, work it out,” and “Way to go!”

  Brent thought he sounded silly, but he decided that the guy wanted to be helpful. At one point, after Coach Seabrook said, “Yeah! Work those hammies,” he and Cam caught each other’s eyes and just barely managed to avoid giggling.

  “Okay, lace up your skates and get on the ice,” called Coach Maxwell. The workout began as it always did, with a skatearound to warm up. The players would take laps around the rink, first going forward and then backward. Brent smiled, remembering how tough skating backward had been for him when he first went out for hockey at the age of seven. Lee, who was with the Badgers at the time, had been very patient and helped him a lot.

  “It’s going to feel funny at first,” his big brother had said, “but you’ll get used to it.”

  “Why do I have to go backward?” Brent remembered asking. “I’m going to be a center like you, not play defense.”

  “Every hockey player has to do it,” Lee had explained. “Even wings and centers play defense when the other team has the puck. And defense means skating backward. Come on, it’s no big deal. Bend your knees, like you’re going to sit in a chair… good! Now, use the inside edge of your right skate to push yourself backward… then straighten out your right leg, and… oops! Okay, you’re not hurt, get up and try again. All right, good! Now shift your weight to your left leg and use that skate to push yourself back, and… uh oh! Okay, up you go and try it again… ”

  Brent’s rear end had been sore for a while before he mastered the trick, but Lee was right, of course: once Brent got the idea, it became automatic. Not that Brent could skate backward as fast as Cam or most defensemen, who usually skate backward more than wings and centers. Brent sometimes teased Cam that Ca
m could go faster backward than forward.

  After the skatearound, Coach Maxwell split the team into pairs for a passing drill, focusing on lead and drop passes. One player of each pair starts from the end of the rink, and his partner gives him a twenty-foot lead before following him, taking the puck. The puck-handler skates to the first blue line and fires a forehand pass to his teammate, who receives the pass and skates toward the red line that divides the ice in half before leaving a drop pass for the first man. The first player then fires the puck at the unguarded goal. The two come back the other way, reversing roles as they do so.

  Coach Maxwell watched from rinkside and made suggestions to players: “Use more follow-through on your forehand pass, Sandy,” or “Vic, try not to shoot when your weight is on the foot closer to the puck, or you’ll have trouble controlling your shot. Shoot when you’re planted on the other foot.”

  Afterward, the coach set up a drill to work on flip shots, where a shooter lofts the puck into the goal over an obstacle, like a goalie’s stick, arm, or leg. For this drill, Coach Maxwell put a six-inch-wide board across the goalmouth for the team to shoot over.

  “Remember,” he said, “you have to bring the tip of your blade — what we call the toe — close to the puck and use both wrists to flick the puck, like this.” The coach demonstrated, flipping the puck over the board and into the cage. “All right, give it a try.”

  One by one, the Badgers tried their own flip shots. Brent did pretty well, he thought, but Coach Maxwell said, “Don’t use the stick like a shovel, Brent. That was more of a scoop than a flip. See what I mean?”

  Brent nodded and tried again. “Much better,” said the coach. “You have strong wrists, so take advantage of them.”

  Next, the two coaches had a slap-shot practice. At either end of the rink a coach set up a line of pucks about three feet apart. A player skates along the line, winds up, and smashes each puck in turn at the unguarded goal.

  “More windup,” Coach Maxwell told one Badger. “Don’t just push the puck, Ted. There’s a reason it’s called a slap shot.… That’s it! It’s not a shot you’ll use too often, because it’s not accurate,” he told the team, “but when you do use it, you want to really whack that puck. Remember, slap shots are for situations when there’s an opening that is likely to close up fast; otherwise, use a standard forehand or backhand shot.”