What Goes Around...

Part Forty-Four

Chapter Forty Four

Freya's words hung in his ears and he knew he'd not relax that evening. So he left, jumping in his SUV and heading out to destination unknown. He seemed to drive listlessly, not noticing his surroundings, unaware of anything but the confusion in his head and the pain in his chest.

When he finally stopped the car, as ignorant to this place as any other, he looked up and groaned. He was at the local ice rink. It seemed that even his hockey world was ganging up on him. Despite his desire to keep away, he found himself getting out on the car, locking it behind him.

The smell of tiger balm, stale sweat and ice were all SO familiar to him. Climbing up into the bleachers, he took a seat and watched the training session going on on the ice. High School age boys ran through drills delivered by a beleaguered looking coach, a middle aged man who was red in the face trying to get his point across. And within moments Coop could see what was happening, the drills were all wrong. The boys were wound up, it was early in the season, adrenaline was pumped, and he was getting them to work on intricate passes, slow moving stuff, what they needed was sprints, fitness and then maybe penalties, he'd coached his fair share of youngsters to know that they weren't rebelling or playing up, they were hyper and needed wearing out.

He was tempted to jump up, offer advice, but that wasn't his things any more. That was until a fight broke out between the two, clearly best players, that the others gathered struggled to break up.

Jumping from his seat he was on the ice before he knew what was happening, helping the underprepared coach to part the boys. Then holding them, a fist at each collar, at opposite arms' length, he glared from one to the other.

"Golden rule of team, NEVER fight with team."

They both squirmed trying to break free.

"Who the hell are you to come shouting at me?" one quipped. By that point the coach was staring at him.

"I am someone who knows the value of strength within the dressing room. You may be flashy, all whizzing in and stop-starting, but you're not all that." As he made to protest, he snarled, "you could be, but you're not."

The other boy stopped struggling and Coop turned to face him, "you too."

"And I suppose you are?"

It was then the coach spoke up, "typical you two all hot air, don't you realise this is Mitchell Cooper? This man played in the Stanley Cup Final!"

Suddenly the two warring angry teenagers looked at the man holding them captive in awe, "really?" The smaller of the two, the first he'd confronted was the one who spoke. "Stanley Cup?"

He loosened his grip on their collars, and the two staggered as they regained their balance, "so I get respect now cos you know who I am? Respect is part of sport, respect for each other, your team, your friends, and most importantly your coach. THAT is more important than skill, than speed, than...anything."

The two looked a little po-faced, and the coach, who'd approached as he'd been ranting, patted him on the back, "nice to meet you Coop, can I call you Coop?" When Coop nodded he offered his hand, "I'm Larry Turner, coach of this team. I heard you lived in town."

He smiled, "I haven't been in a rink for a long time."

The coach shouted at the boys and started them off on some training drills. Once they were back focussed, Larry turned to him, "they looked stunned then. Not normal occasion to be reprimanded by an ex-NHLer!"

He grimaced, he'd hated the adoration when he'd played, but as a professional player you were a role model, fans, people appreciating your sport is what paid their wages, extravagant as they often were. It wasn't essentially true with sponsorship as it was, but all in all an NHL franchise failed without the fans, and he had had so many opportunities to promote the sport to another generation. That was what he had loved most. Nurturing talent, encouraging youngsters, giving something back. And Freya was right, he had missed that, missed the whole environment of the rink, the ice...those oh, so familiar aromas.