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"Talk to me, Pete. The last thing we need now is a pressure cooker with a faulty valve,” Hoss finally said, washing the dishes as I sat at the table, my head in my hands.
"It's on me. I'm the coach. I have to fix this, but I don't even know where to start."
"Then let's figure it out together," Hoss suggested, his voice soft but determined.
We stayed up late that night, laying all our cards on the table. I told him about the crushing weight I carried and how every play I called that didn't turn out well felt like another punch to the gut.
"I get it," Hoss said, looking me right in the eyes. "I do. But this isn't only your battle, Pete. It's ours, and this is your first crack at head coach. Don’t expect to be an expert right out of the gate. You’ve got many seasons to go after this one.”
We talked about the stress and the toll it took individually and on our relationship. For the first time, I admitted that I was scared not just of missing the playoffs but of letting him down.
"You're not gonna lose me, Pete, if that’s what’s bugging you. Not over a game, not ever," Hoss reassured me.
I took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out through my teeth.
“Look, it's hard for me to say this, but you need to know,” I began, rubbing my palms against my jeans. "Back in high school, I had a pretty rough time."
Hoss studied me, waiting for me to continue. I saw curiosity in his eyes. "Go on."
"My dad left when I was young, and my mom had to work two jobs. So I was mostly on my own, getting into fights, you know, standard rebellious teenager stuff. But eventually, it went beyond that. I got mixed up with some people, some really bad people. I started down a seriously dangerous path."
His expression turned gentle, but he didn't say anything. He gave me space to continue.
"And then, hockey saved me. I snagged a scholarship, cleaned myself up, and got out of town. That might sound like the end of the story, but it’s not. It left scars. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just one wrong move away from screwing it all up again, you know? It’s like I’ve had a charmed life since then. What if that comes to an end? These losses aren’t just games to me. They feel like they’re a drumbeat getting louder. Eventually, it will send me back home in a mess again.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. Then Hoss reached over, took my hand, and looked me right in the eyes. "Pete, you're not a kid anymore,” he chuckled softly. “It sort of sounds ridiculous to say that, but I think I get it. Your view of the world gets twisted when you’re in a bad place. Believe me, I know.”
I squeezed his hand tightly.
“You're here, with me,” Hoss continued, “with a team and an organization that's got your back. We all have stakes in this, and now that I know yours, I’ll throw in the rebar to be an even stronger backup than before.”
I managed a weak grin. “And I've got you, too,” I said.
That did it for me. My walls had crumbled completely, and for the first time since the losing streak began, I felt like I could breathe. I leaned over and kissed Hoss, half hoping the kiss could solve all my problems.
* * *
I called a team meeting first thing in the morning. The locker room was quiet as the players filed in, some still wiping the sleep from their eyes. I stood before them, scanning their faces. Behind the blank expressions, I sensed simmering doubt and frustration.
"I owe you all an apology," I began. "I've been putting too much pressure on myself lately, and that pressure has bled over onto this team. The truth is, I can't do this alone. I'm still learning how to be a head coach, and I should be leaning on you—all of you—more than I have been."
I looked from one player to another.
"Losing sucks. There’s no way around that, but clinging to those losses and letting them eat away at us won't fix anything. We're a team. That means we help each other shoulder those defeats and then look to the future to turn it all around."
I glanced at Jensen. It looked like he had something to say. He didn’t speak, but he did give me a subtle nod. I took that as my cue to continue.
"I don't have all the answers right now. But I know that if we dig deep and remember why we lace up our skates every day—for the love of the game—we can rally. This slump ends today."
A few heads nodded almost imperceptibly. The mood in the room felt less heavy. It was like we joined in a collective exhale after holding a breath for too long.
"Alright," I said. "Let's hit the ice."
Jensen approached me as the team stood and shuffled out to the rink.
“We’re here, Coach,” he said softly. "We're with you."
I clapped him on the shoulder, relief washing over me. "Thanks. Now go help your teammates remind themselves how to win."
