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"Wow, Coach Z. That was amazing!" Lisa cheered.
I had to admit, he was smooth, but it was a dance-off, and I wasn't about to let Pete have the last move.
"Coach Z, prepare to be schooled," I grinned, setting myself up for what I call the Hockey Hoedown.
Pete crossed his arms, clearly amused. "Bring it, Hoss."
I kicked off with a slide, went straight into a shuffle, then a twist, and finished with my own skating moonwalk.
The kids went wild. Even Pete clapped, chuckling as he shook his head.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you win, Hoss. That was something."
Before I could relish my victory, his expression turned serious, almost calculating. "But don't get too comfortable. Our real competition hasn't even started yet."
His words hung in the air and jolted me back to reality. This playful fun with the kids? Just an opening act. As Pete grabbed his parka and made his way to the edge of the rink, I thought about what the future had in store.
Would Cold Pines live up to its frosty name? Or were things about to sizzle? Either way, I was all in. Whatever Coach Z had in mind, I was game.
As the kids skated off for some juice boxes, their laughter filling the arena, I had a revelation.
Pete and I were rivals, yeah, but now we were on the same team. We shared the same goal.
I'd been the one to cast the deciding vote to bring him on board as our new head coach after our previous one got called up to an NHL team. It had been a split decision; tension filled the air of that meeting room like static before a storm.
“He’s untested. I know he was a star as a player, but he’s never coached,” complained one of the suits at the table.
“That’s why it’s such a deal for us right now,” I insisted. “Zingara’s ultimately headed to an NHL coaching position, but we can be the lucky ones to enjoy his first few years leading a team.”
The debate continued with grumbling around the table. “And you all took a chance on me just three months out of rehab,” I reminded them.
Ultimately, I voted yes and got just enough of the suits to go along with me. I didn’t want to work with Pete because of nostalgia. I wanted to work with someone I knew would work hard and push every player to their limit. He might even push his assistant a little, too.
He pulled me back into the present when he skated up beside me, arms crossed. “This was a bold move, bringing me on board to take the helm. You sure you're ready for this, Hoss?"
"Bold moves are our specialty in Cold Pines,” I replied, keeping my tone light but honest. "Besides, the team needs someone who'll shake things up."
“You’re not afraid I'll steal your thunder?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Thunder's overrated," I quipped, "It's lightning you've got to watch out for."
Pete grinned, nodding appreciatively. "Well said. Get ready, Hoss, 'cause I plan to electrify this team."
I felt a surge of anticipation and maybe something more. It had been a long time since anyone pushed me on the ice. The Cougars took a chance on me just months out of rehab, but the former head coach treated me like a ghost.
As I rejoined the group, I couldn't shake the sense that Pete and I had set something into motion—a game neither of us fully understood yet, but one we were both hell-bent on winning.
“Listen up, team, gather ‘round,” Pete’s voice echoed around the rink, firm and authoritative. “You saw a bit of what I can do on the ice just now, but that's not what this is about. I'm not here to show off; I'm here to bring out the best in each of you.”
One by one, he looked at every player, finally settling on me, his assistant, for a beat longer than the rest. “I don’t care if you’re the star player or warming the bench—under my coaching, you’re going to earn every minute you spend on this ice.” He slammed his stick on the ice for emphasis. “Talent wins games, sure, but teamwork and hard work win championships.”
There was a momentary hush. Pete's words hung in the air like a puck suspended at the apex of a slapshot.
"So, Coach Zingara," I broke the silence, sweeping my hand as if presenting him to an imaginary audience. “Does this mean you’re ready to lead the Cougars into a new era, or should we keep skating in circles like a conga line?”
He smirked, the tight corners of his lips twitching upward for the first time. "Oh, we'll be doing more than circles, Hoss. I hope you've been keeping up with your sprints."
"Always," I declared. "But I gotta warn you, your playbook's gonna need more than X’s and O's to impress me."
