Page 4 of Goalie interference

Watching those boys practice, a harsh pang thumped in my chest–I already missed it. I’d been retired for exactly four months and was already bored, looking for anything that felt like the spark of playing.

Retiring wasn’t my choice–it was my body's. Goalies' bodies just gave up on them earlier than other players, but thirty-four was still young. It was normally the late thirties that took us out, but one good shot to my hip again, and I’d suffer the rest of my miserable life.

So, retirement.

Yay.

So exciting.

The three boys crowded into the video room, taking their seats with gaps between them as the video started–one of their last games from last season. I noticed right off the bat that these boys were not friends–they didn’t even like one another.

Pleasant guys, for the most part, but not buddy-buddy.

Goaltending was a lonely gig–you got used to being alone. You got used to short bursts of praise when you won after sixty minutes of you, yourself, and you. Making friends with your back-ups was just a cruel joke–they were hoping for you to get hurt.

Jordy and Tommy seemed fine with one another, but Ash?

He was downright unpleasant.

He had a mean face, straight and unamused, deadlocked on the video every second it played. He was watching himself play, and truly watching–none of that fake caring for a performance review.

He really cared to be better and was used to having to figure that out for himself.

Ash was just a younger me…

Okay, me if I had a perfect face and blonde hair, but my point still stood–I understood him. There was something underneath all that anger.

He was passionate–he wanted to be the best, and that was how I knew we’d be fine.

That was also what made me take the job–I didn't want to coach some entitled kids who didn’t really care.

I wanted someone like Ash.

The video played on–Notre Dame’s team circled the goal, but one misstep sent one of their players down on Ash, causing the injury that caused him to leave the game. My eyes shot to Ash and found him wincing, curling in on himself for just a second, only to correct it when he saw me looking.

Reed had been clear that he wasn’t sure if the injury was still bothering Ash. He’d had suspicions that Ash was just covering up pain to keep playing, but he was only going to make it worse if he didn’t let it heal properly.

Tommy took Ash’s place in the game, and it was just a mess. He wasn’t centered in any way– it was atrocious to watch, but even worse after watching Ash play in harmony with the team. They were used to him, clearly, but it helped that Ash played like it was all his body was meant to do.

He moved like he was dancing in that net–the only thing stopping him was human error.

The boys sat silently through a few more videos, nodding along to things I pointed out to them. I could tell that Tommy and Jordy were only half listening, and it showed when they played, but Ash was all in.

“You favor your left leg,” I told him, replaying a clip of the video in slow motion where it was obvious to me. “I assume that’s because you're left-handed, and it won't be a weakness, so long as we train up your right leg. When you duck right, it's noticeably weaker–I’m surprised more teams haven’t been playing to that.”

“They do,” Ash said, noticeably less defensive than the defensive man I met in the showers. “I noticed it last season–I can still block to my right, but it’s just not as clean.”

“Then we’ll make it clean.”

Ash nodded, gesturing for me to go on with the rest of the video.

It was subtle and probably nothing, but he was giving me an inch.

The video session wrapped up nicely, sending the boys off to get something to eat before they’d have to be back for their first game tonight. I was sad to say it was only my first day here, but they’d been practicing for over a month, simply because I was also in recovery.

I wasn’t allowed on skates until today either.

“You’re Thomas Thayer, right?” Ash asked, interrupting my organizing of their medical files on my desk to look up at him, nodding. “So, it’s true then. You’re not on medical leave–you’re retiring.”