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MIA
The crackof the puck has my heart sinking in my stomach.
It’s going to go in the net.I’ve watched this game enough to know that there’s no one close enough to guard the puck or prevent it from skidding into the net, particularly at that angle. Even for professionals, it’d be difficult to stop the puck. But for nine to twelve-year-olds, it’s going to be impossible.
Heknows it too, from the look on his face, as he silently surveys his team. His tall, muscular frame is encased in basketball shorts and a tank top, despite the chill in the room. Then again former hockey legend Luke Hardy has been at home on the rink since he was practically in diapers.
Luke is a lot of things now – billionaire, philanthropist, perpetual thorn in my side - but above all, he’s the man who won Hart Memorial Trophy and then retired from hockey the year later. He’s a man who knows the entire world is ready to kiss his ass and he’s not afraid to take advantage of it.
He’s a man I would’ve preferred to never meet again.
Unfortunately, he’s also my brother’s best friend and because of that, he's near impossible to avoid. As the coach of my son's rival little league team, Luke’s been the bane of my existence.
I’m proven right when the puck flies past the goal line, barely skimming the inside edge of the goal frame. The team in red roars out their victory, and they skate around high-fiving each other. The team in blue lets out several groans and a few of them hang their heads in defeat. One red-haired kid tosses his hockey stick on the ice and stalks off the ice declaring, “I’m sick of this!”
His father sighs beside me. He has identical curly hair to his son and it’s sticking up at ends from how much he ran his hands through it. This entire game has been a nail-biter, to say the least. I put a hand to his shoulder sympathetically but he’s watching his son head toward the changing room.
“Brandon, the game's not over," he calls out weakly, but the boy ignores him and walks through the doors, letting them slam closed behind him.
James Harwell, Brandon's dad, sends me an apologetic look but I shake my head. I understand Brandon's feelings. We all feel the same way, watching the extremely unbalanced game that’s happening before our eyes. To be honest it’s a surprise that more of the kids haven’t walked off the pitch yet.
“I’ll go get him,” James says.
“Why bother?” Arthur, another parent, counters in a tone trembling with anger. “Even with a fully functional team, there’s no way they’re catching up to the scores now.”
“It's not over yet,” I say. “We still have some time.” And while fifteen minutes isn’t a lot of time, it’s enough to hope that we can somehow pull a win in this and turn things around. Because if the kids don’t win this, it’s going to be an uphill battle and damn near impossible for them to qualify for the finals.
“You thinkhe’sgoing to let that happen?” Arthur says sardonically, and I know exactly who he’s talking about. I peek his way.
Luke seems to sense my perusal because he glances up and our eyes meet. Awareness skitters over my skin at his dark gaze, and I hate the little smirk that pushes up the corner of his lips. I especially hate the way it makes me feel, that tremble deep in the pit of my belly. I tell myself that it’s only loathing and annoyance I feel for him, but I‘m not delusional enough to convince myself that it’s true.
“Look at him,” Arthur continues in a bitter tone. “He’s so smug about it. He knows he has us by the balls.”
“We should report him,” Jill, the only other mother in attendance today says with a sniff. “He can’t keep getting away with what he’s doing. It’s damn near criminal.”
“Don’t you think you guys are taking this a little too seriously?” This is from Rodney Gomez, the owner of the grocery store next to my bakery shop. He waves at his son on the ice before he continues. “It’s a little league game. As long as the kids have fun, who cares?”
“But they’re not having fun,” Arthur points out. “They work so hard for that championship and they’re playing their asses off today, but they don’t stand a chance because that damn cheat won’t honor the damn code of ethics.”
The code of ethics is the set of rules established by the district to keep things fair. You see, our district is kind of a mix of everything. There are low-income and high-income neighborhoods, and everything in between, but these kids aren't supposed to know that. We wanted these games to be as fair as possible so, long ago, the parents signed a petition that brought a code of ethics in to maintain equity in the games. The kids had to use the same kind of equipment and environment so that no one team had an unfair advantage. The training times also had to be similar. The coach of each team had to be a parent, not a pro coach or anything like that.
Even though he's an ex-pro hockey player, technically Luke is also a parent of another boy on his team so he can be a coach. He also blatantly and shamelessly bought all the members of his team new uniforms, new skates, and new gear, which seems to have drastically improved their performance.
No one has complained because Luke presumably has people on the board willing to back him and no one is willing to take on the repercussions against a man that powerful. Plus, some of the parents on Luke's team have more or less subtly threatened to make life very difficult for us if we do.
Which means that we’re stuck with this.
I can understand the rest of the parent's frustration, but I don't want it to become the focus of the games. As a coach, I don't want the kids to see us losing hope, so I say, “Come on guys. It’s not over yet. Let’s just keep encouraging the boys, okay?”
“You think our kids are stupid, coach?” Arthur sneers. “You think they don’t see what’s going on?”
“That’s enough,” James shoots back. “No need to be snarky. She’s just trying to help.”
I shoot James a thankful smile and he returns it. James is the only other single parent on the team, apart from me, and as such, we have something of a friendship. Well, maybe not the kind of friends that call each other often or hang out, but we do talk every time we’re together. I know that he still loves and misses his wife terribly, even after she’s been gone for years.
It's so sweet to think about. Sometimes, I imagine what it would be like to experience a love like that.
