D2: The Mighty Ducks Novel

HOME TURF

On a rainy night two weeks later, Gordon Bombay limped off the Greyhound bus at the St. Paul station.

      It was cold. Gordon hiked his equipment bag higher up on his shoulder and began limping down the street. A sports doctor had provided him with a cane, but the pain in his knee was still unbearable.

     After a few minutes he noticed car lights spilling over him from behind. He turned around and saw a station wagon pulling up beside him. The window rolled down, and Gordon smiled when he recognized the driver.

     "Welcome home, Gordon." 

     "Jan, how did you know I was coming back?'' Gordon asked.

     "Where else would you go? Get in."

     "Hans couldn't make it?" inquired Gordon as he climbed into the wagon and threw his bag onto the backseat.

      "That strudlehead." said Jan about his brother. "He went back to Scandinavia for the summer. Left me the shop to run by myself. He said he had to go home, visit Momma. She loves him more than you know. I don't care. You can have his bed Welcome back. You look tired."

     Gordon sighed. If only he knew how tired, Gordon thought.

SCREEEEECH!

     Gordon bolted awake and practically leaped off the sofa bed at the sound of metal against metal Then he remembered where he was. He was in a corner of the back room of Jan & Hans's Sports Shop.

     Gordon puited the curtain away from a window and saw that it was morning. Then he grabbed his cane and limped toward the scraping sound.

     He thought he would find Jan working at the repair bench, but instead he saw a boy hunched over the sharpening blade. Sparks were flying all around him. The boy heard Gordon enter, and he shut the motor off and turned around. 

     It was Charlie Conway.

     "Sorry," said Charlie. "Did I wake you?'' Gordon smiled. Charlie broke into a big grin. They gave each other a warm hug. 

     Just then Jan came in from the kitchen carrying a tray covered with bowls.

     "For breakfast," Jan announced, "my specialty Jan's hasen-

     "Hasenpfeffer and eggs!" Charlie and Gordon said together.

     "I see you met my new apprentice," Jan said as he put the bowls of food down before them.

      "Jan told me you did this job when you were my age," Charlie said to his old coach.

      "I sure did."Gordon smiled. It was a warm memory. "Hope he pays you more than he paid me."

      "You got PAID?" said Charlie.

      "Eat, everyone!" said Jan, quickly changing the subject. "Before the hanenpfe gets cold!"

      After breakfast Charlie went back to work at the repair table. Gordon found some framed photographs and newspaper clippings hanging on the wall behind the salon counter. Most of the clippings were yellowed with age. But in the dead center of them all was a newer, more freshly framed clipping. The headline proclaimed: MINNESOTA MIRACLE - DUCKS BEAT HAWKS!

      "That was a good day," Gordon told Jan, pointing to the clipping. 

      Gordon glanced over at Charlie, who was hard at work repairing a pair of skates. "Look at him." he said to Jan. "Wow, he's grown."

      "They do that," said Jan, grinning. "Since his mother remarried he started spending a lot of time here. I had to hire him. 

      "I should have kept in touch more." sighed Gordon.

      "You are here now,'' said Jan. "So, what is your plan? Have you talked to Duckworth?"

       "I'm a player, not a lawyer," said Gordon, recalling his old job at the law firm of Duckworth, Saver and Gross "But your injury requires rest and time."

      "Time is the one thing I don't have," explained Gordon. "I was this close to the NHL. I could taste it. I was in the game, Jan. I was alive." 

      Jan looked at Gordon. Gordon was clutching his cane tightly, trying to look as if he wasn't in pain.

      "Have you thought about coaching?" and Jan. After all, you are the Minnesota Miracle Man. You still have the Ducks, in case you forgot."

      "I'm Duck through and through Jan." said Gordon. "But I can't make a living coaching peewee hockey, can I?"

      "Where there is a way there must be a will," quipped Jan. "For example, my hockey suppliers tell me Team USA is still without a coach for the Junior Goodwill Games."  

      "Sounds great." Gordon groaned sarcastically. "Give 'em a call for me, Jan. Tell 'em I'm available. I'm sure they'll be knocked out. I can sharpen their skates."

       "Don't knock skate sharpening," Jan gently retorted. "It is a skill. My father taught-" 

      "I know, Jan. I know. It's a great skill, but I don't want to stay in this rinky-dink town, sharpening skates my whole life. Heck, even the North Stars moved. I want something better, too, Jan. Something bigger."