Page 6 of The Overtime Persuasive

Our newest addition, Jonathan “Tripp” Mercer, collects the puck in the neutral zone and comes across the blue line like he owns it.

Silly fool. I’m here to remind him that he doesn’t.

I match his speed as he cuts toward the middle. He drops one shoulder, shifts the puck, and tries to slip around me. I knock it cleanly off his stick.

Tripp looks back as I send it the other way. “That worked on you in college.”

“That was college,” I call out.

“I made it happen twice,” he retorts, flashing a grin my way, but I won’t bite. He likes to try to get me to, but I won’t.

“One was offside.”

“Well, Snyder.” He snickers. “You’ve been holding on to that for eight years?”

“Ahhh, no, my old friend,” I say as I take a lazy turn in a circle around him, dragging my stick by my side as I do. “I’ve been waiting eight years for a certain someone, that’s you, to admit I was right.”

Tripp and I started ruining each other’s afternoons when we were seventeen. Different high schools, then colleges in the same conference. Somehow, we were always the two sent over the boards against each other. He was the winger expected to create something, and I was the defenseman expected to stop him.

We’ve never disliked each other. We’ve just never met without keeping score. Yet, starting this season, for the first time, we’re wearing the same jersey.

I’m not convinced either of us knows what to do with that yet.

Tripp circles back as the drill resets.

“You still watch my left shoulder,” he says.

I shrug. “You still lead with it.”

“You could try watching the puck.”

“I take the puck from you just fine.”

He grins before the whistle sends us forward. This time, Tripp makes the same move, and I shift to cut him off. Instead of trying to get around me, he slides the puck behind me to Nathan, who sends it past Owen.

Tripp coasts by, laughing. “Still got past you.”

I turn to follow him. “You’re going to be unbearable here, aren’t you?”

“It’s on the scoreboard.”

Before I can answer, Coach’s whistle cuts through the rink. “Bring it in!”

We gather around him at center ice. Campbell stops on Coach’s right, while Tripp takes the spot directly across from me. Coach waits until the last stick goes still.

“Before we finish today, we need to make the leadership group official.” He gestures toward Campbell. “As everyone already knows, Stockton will remain our captain.”

Sticks hammer against the ice around us, and Campbell gives a brief nod, looking about as comfortable with the attention as he ever does.

“Now for our alternates,” Coach goes on, referring to our two spots for alternate captains. “We’re switching things up, and instead of two alternates this season, we’ll be picking three total. First things first, Ty McCade will keep his A for the season.”

Another round of stick taps follows. Ty accepts it with his usual steady expression.

“We intended for Drew Madden to wear the second A. As you’ve probably noticed, Drew isn’t here today. Symptoms from an earlier concussion have returned, and after meeting with his doctors and our medical staff, he’s been ruled out for the season.”

The rink goes quiet.

“We’re going to support him however we can. As for the other two alternates, we’re trying to decide now, and we’ll announce who they are soon.” Coach looks around the circle. “What you do between now and then––matters.”