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We walked into the arena as players started trickling in for practice. Usually, the atmosphere would be alive with laughter, friendly banter, and the clatter of hockey gear.
Instead, it felt like we'd stumbled into a wake. Players huddled together, speaking in hushed tones, their eyes darting to a newspaper open on Jensen’s lap. That damn headline cast a pall over the entire team.
"Listen up, men!” I called, clapping my hands to grab everyone’s attention. "I know you've all seen the news. And yeah, it sucks. But you know what sucks more? Losing focus two days before the biggest game of our lives."
Hoss picked up where I left off, pacing in front of the players with an intensity that demanded their attention. "Guys, we're standing on the edge of something great. We've got scouts coming to this championship. Our families, our friends—heck, the whole damn town is counting on us. Are we gonna let some corporate hack from Massachusetts mess with our heads?"
A collective "no" rippled through the team, but it lacked the usual fire. Eddie took the initiative to stand and speak for his teammates.
"Coach, it's hard, you know?" he said, his voice sounding vulnerable. "This team and this town. I’m still new, but it already feels like home. The thought of the Cougars leaving—of all this possibly going away—is messing with us. I won't lie."
He didn't need to say it; his voice said it all. I glanced at Hoss, knowing he felt the same punch to the gut that I did. Eddie was rattled, and the rest of the team was likely on shaky ground.
"Look," I began, choosing my words carefully, "I get it. This is personal for every single one of us. But let's do something we won't regret, regardless of what happens. Let's play the game of our lives. Let's make it so damn unforgettable that no matter where we end up, we'll always have this moment we created for this town.”
Hoss stepped up beside me and added a final note. "The best defense against uncertainty is to be freaking awesome right now. On this ice. As a team."
That seemed to do the trick. The guys nodded, and the atmosphere tangibly shifted as they started to gear up. The clatter of hockey sticks filled the air once more.
Still, as we headed toward the ice, I couldn't shake the nagging doubts in my mind. The future was a blank canvas with nothing drawn on it yet, not even the background.
We hit the ice hard, and the first slap of the puck against the boards jolted everyone into the present. We skated drills, practiced formations, and ran plays for the next two hours. The team's focus was back, but it was a hard-won battle, the weight of the future still hanging heavy in the air.
As practice wound down, Hoss found me. "That went well, all things considered."
"Yeah," I sighed, watching as the team filed off the ice, their faces flushed but determined. "But well, it isn't going to cut it. We need to be phenomenal."
Hoss looked out over the empty rink. "Then phenomenal is what we'll be."
I watched as Eddie stopped to talk privately with Hoss before he left the ice. When the brief conversation broke, Hoss stopped me before I entered the locker room.
He ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair before speaking. "So, Eddie’s been talking to NHL reps. He says they’re interested—really interested.
My heart sank a bit. It wasn’t a surprise. Eddie had the talent to put together a long career in the NHL, but the thought of him leaving Cold Pines so soon was hard.
"Wow. That's huge for him,” I said, “but I can't say I'm happy to think about losing one of our biggest stars.”
"Yeah," Hoss agreed. “And that's not all. When he was talking about it, his voice broke. He's torn up about the idea of leaving Cold Pines."
A heavy silence hung between us. We were on the cusp of winning a championship in our first crack at coaching. It should have been a time for over-the-top celebration, but life was throwing curveballs left and right.
I clapped Hoss on the shoulder, more for my comfort than his. “Let's make sure his last game here— if it is his last game— is one for the books."
Hoss met my gaze, his eyes steely. "Agreed. If this team will break apart, let's ensure it's unforgettable first."
* * *
I sat in my office, skimming through plays on my tablet, when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was Stan, the owner of the Cold Pines Cougars. Given the recent bombshell about the team's potential sale, my gut twisted in anticipation of the conversation.
"Hey, Stan, what's going on?" I answered, trying to sound more casual than I felt.
"Pete, how are you? Look, I won't beat around the bush. You've probably seen the news."
"Yeah, it's kinda hard to miss," I replied, tapping my fingers nervously on the desk.
Stan sighed audibly. "I know it's rough timing with the upcoming championship game, but I need you to know something. The offer on the table from this Massachusetts guy? It's serious. And it includes a significant financial incentive for you and Hoss to move with the team."
I didn’t know what to say. A significant raise was nothing to scoff at, but relocating the team? Leaving Cold Pines? The weight of the decision suddenly landed on my chest like a two-ton block of ice.
