Body Check (8 page)

“Well, that’s a start. Looks like you took the impact on your shoulder pads. Let’s get you sitting up.”

With the coach’s help, Brent got into a sitting position. He noticed that the rest of the team was standing behind Coach Maxwell,
staring at him, looking worried. Even Cam looked worried, which was good to see.

“What happened?” Brent asked.

“You tripped,” said the coach, checking Brent for cuts or scrapes. “I think you can stand up. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

A moment later, Brent stood up. He tried moving his arms and legs and was pleased to find that everything worked and that
he felt no major pains anywhere. “I’m okay.”

The coach nodded. “I think you are. But I won’t
take any chances. I want you on the bench for a bit. I’ll bring Neil in for you for now. Come on.”

With the coach by his side, Brent slowly skated off the ice. Players clapped and said things like “Way to go!” and “All
right!”

As Brent sat down and watched the squads prepare for a face-off in the circle nearest to where the action had stopped, Brent
turned to the player next to him.

“How’d I trip? Did you see?”

The player, a first-year guy named Darryl, said, “You’d almost caught Barry when he looked like he had a breakaway, and then
Vic tried to catch
you
from behind, but he isn’t real fast, so there was no way, you know? So, he like, reached out with his stick, and… ”

Brent stared at the other boy. “He
hooked
me? With his stick?”

“Yeah,” Darryl said. “He caught your ankle with it. He’s over in the penalty box now. We got a power play out of it anyway.”

“Did it look like he tripped me up on purpose? Could you tell?” asked Brent.

Darryl hesitated. He looked at the ice and back at Brent, then finally said, “I don’t know. I mean, the guy… he’s clumsy,
you know? So maybe he just lost
his balance. I couldn’t say. I don’t think he was out to hurt you. He just wanted to stop you.".

Brent thought about it and realized that Darryl was right. Whatever Vic had wanted to do, the dude hadn’t deliberately set
out to hurt him. Still, no matter what Vic had
wanted
to do, Brent might well have been hurt when he crashed into the boards.

A couple of minutes later, Coach Maxwell called “Time-out!” and went over to check on Brent. “You ready to come back in?”
he asked.

Brent stood up. His upper arm felt a little sore, but otherwise he was fine. “Definitely,” he said.

“Right,” said the coach, “you’re in for Arno after the time-out.”

After the time-out, Brent’s squad took the puck and Cam brought it across the blue line into their offensive zone. He held
it for a moment, looking for an open man. Barry skated out to confront him, but before he got close, Cam sent the puck rocketing
behind the goal.

Brent sped after it. But Max left the goalmouth to take the puck away. He tapped it to Burt, who was in as a defenseman. Burt
started the puck the other way, taking it toward center ice. Before an offensive play could get along, the whistle sounded.
Barry was ruled
offside, having crossed the red line before Burt had gotten there with the puck. The squads faced off at the closest circle.

The play moved back and forth without either side being able to score. Chip made one beautiful save on a shot by Ted, sliding
across the crease and just getting the end of his stick on the puck before it got into the net.

“One more minute!” called Coach Maxwell as Brent took the puck after Chip had knocked it away from the crease. He gave it
to Cam and headed down the ice. Cam passed to Darryl, who had come in a moment earlier. Darryl avoided Vic’s poke check and
crossed the blue line to center ice, with Brent on his left and Cam on his right. Cam veered behind Darryl, who dropped the
puck onto Cam’s stick. Cam flicked it to Brent who got across the red line, while Barry tried to force Brent off the puck.
Brent fired to Gavin, who moved into the offensive zone and slapped a long shot at the goalmouth.

Max blocked it with his stick, and the puck caromed off to the left of the crease. Cam was the first one to get to the puck.
He sent a pass back to Gavin, ten feet in front of the net. Gavin slipped a shot that tumbled
into the goal, just over Max’s outstretched leg, for the first and only goal of the scrimmage. Gavin’s squad-mates gave him
a series of high-five and pats on the back.

A few seconds after the face-off that followed, Coach Maxwell blew his whistle and called “Time!” The scrimmage was over.

“Everybody, group up over here,” called the coach. When the team was gathered around him, he said, “That was excellent! I
saw a lot of good, hard work out there. Good passing, hard checks, and teamwork. Play like that against the Cyclones, and
you’ll give them a real fight. You should all feel good about what you did today.

“Take a quick break, and we’ll use the rest of the time to work on some special plays.”

Cam tapped Brent on the shoulder. “You all right?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t serious. I feel a little sore, that’s all. But I wasn’t really hurt.”

Ted, who had overheard what Brent said, sarcastically muttered, “Yeah, I guess Vic’ll have to try harder next time.”

Cam spun around to face the other boy. “Hey! What are you trying to say?”

Ted didn’t back off. “Brent could’ve broken an arm! And you know it!”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t! Anyway, what happened was an accident!” snapped Cam.

“An accident, huh?” said Ted. “Is that so? Brent, did Vic come over to ask how you were? Did he say he was sorry?”

Brent shook his head. “No.”

“I didn’t think he did,” Ted said, his eyes fixed on Cam. “You know what? I’m not sure it
was
an accident! That’s the kind of dirty play his father wants us all to do! Vic keeps having these ‘accidents,’ have you noticed?
I don’t like it!”

“Guys, cool it,” Brent said, feeling caught in the middle. “This isn’t right.”

Ted turned to Brent. “Well, do
you
think it was an accident? Or did he trip you on purpose?”

Both boys looked at Brent, waiting for his answer. Brent wanted, more than anything else, to sound fair.

“I guess Vic isn’t the world’s greatest skater, and I really don’t believe he was out to hurt me.”

Cam nodded, and Ted looked angry.

“But,”
Brent went on, “I also think that when you try to break the rules, it’s easier for people to get hurt.
And it doesn’t matter if it’s accidental or on purpose. And that’s one of the things I don’t like about the way Coach Seabrook
wants us to be ‘winners.’”

Now it was Ted’s turn to look pleased and Cam’s to frown.

“That’s not fair!” he said. “Coach Seabrook isn’t trying to get anyone hurt, and you know it!”

“I didn’t say he was
trying
to —” Brent started.

But Ted interrupted. “He says it’s okay to break rules as long as you don’t get caught! You think that’s all right?”

Other players were watching Ted and Cam, whose voices got louder with each exchange.

“He knows how we can be champs.” Cam’s face was red, and his fists were clenched. “I’m tired of playing with a bunch of
losers!”

Ted’s eyes got wide. “You think we’re a bunch of losers, huh? Then why don’t you just quit? Who needs you?”

“I’m not going to quit! But maybe you should, if you don’t care about winning!”

“Cut it out!” Coach Maxwell stepped between the two boys. He looked at each of them in turn. Both Cam and Ted suddenly looked
embarrassed.

Standing in the midst of the players, Coach Maxwell didn’t seem angry as much as sad. He ran a hand through his hair and said
very softly, “I don’t know… maybe I don’t know this team anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Coach,” Ted said, “I was totally out of line.”

He offered his hand to Cam, who shook it. Cam said, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Coach Maxwell said, “I don’t know why some of you guys think I don’t want the team to win. I know I never said anything like
that. Nobody’s happier when you win a game than I am. All I’ve been saying is that I don’t see winning as the only important
goal. Especially not for people your age. Sports are supposed to be fun. That’s the bottom line, I always thought.

“But maybe times have changed, and I’m out of step. If I am… then maybe you’d be better off with a coach who’ll give you what
you want. I don’t know.”

“No!”
Brent’s shout startled several players, including himself. “Don’t talk about that! We need you. You’re the one we want to
coach the Badgers!”

Several other boys spoke out in agreement. But some didn’t say anything at all, and one of the silent ones was Cam.

After a moment, Cam spoke. “I don’t think anybody wants you to leave, Coach. But if having another guy around can make us
better, what’s wrong with that? Why shouldn’t we be the best team we can be?”

Coach Maxwell smiled, “I want this team to be the best it can be, too, Cam. I guess the question is, what does ‘the best’
mean?”

Cam blinked, as if he couldn’t believe such a dumb question. “The best is the team that wins the most. That’s right, isn’t
it?”

“Seems so to me,” said Coach Seabrook.

“Right!” agreed Vic.

“Does anyone have a different opinion?” asked Coach Maxwell.

“If you’re playing as well as you can, then you’re the best… well, the best you can be anyway,” Brent said. “That’s what I
want for my team.”

Several boys started talking at once, some agreeing with Cam and others with Brent.

Coach Maxwell held up a hand to quiet everyone down. “I think we need to have a team meeting to talk about this some more,”
he said. “I want to set it up for tonight, if possible, after dinner. How does that sound?”

The players looked around at each other. Most of them were willing.

“Can parents come, too?” asked Arno.

“I wish they would,” Coach Maxwell replied. “I’ll arrange a room at the middle school and let people know where and when.”
He looked at his watch. “Until then, let’s wrap it up with some stretching. Everyone, in the locker room.”

The team filed off the rink quietly.

Later on, Cam’s mother picked up Brent and her own son. There was little talk between the boys on the drive home. Brent was
thinking about what was going to happen to the Badgers and whether he’d still feel like it was his team after that evening.
He was pretty sure that the same thoughts were going through Cam’s mind as well.

Brent hoped that they’d both feel that they were teammates and friends after the meeting was over.

J
ust before dinner, Coach Maxwell phoned the Mullen house to say that the meeting was set for that evening and that parents
and boys were urged to be there if they could.

“I don’t get it,” Lee said, once the family was at the table. “Coach Maxwell has been running the team for a long time, and
there were no complaints. What’s going on?”

Brent shrugged. “Guess ‘winner’ is a magic word. When this new coach talks about being winners, a lot of guys start listening,
and it sounds good to them.”

“And
to some of the parents, too,” added Mr. Mullen. “When we go to the games, there are always a few fathers and mothers around
who aren’t happy unless their team wins. They don’t buy this idea that doing your best is what matters. I remember this one
guy
who used to say, ‘If you’re not a winner, then you’re a loser.’ He’d say it over and over, even when his son’s team lost.
And his son would hear it, too. I could never understand that.”

“But you think Coach Maxwell is going to still be our coach, right, Dad?” asked Brent.

“Sure he will,” Lee said.

“Let’s put it this way,” said Mr. Mullen. “As long as most of the parents want him, Coach Maxwell will be running the team.
And while I think there are some parents who would rather see more emphasis put on winning than Coach Maxwell is willing to
do, I’m pretty sure that he’ll still be running things tomorrow. But I can’t say for sure.”

Brent didn’t feel very hungry all of a sudden. He couldn’t imagine Coach Maxwell leaving, but his father seemed to think that
it might happen. “I don’t want to play for Coach Seabrook if he’s in charge. I’d have to quit. And I wouldn’t be the only
one either.”

“Let’s not worry about that unless we have to,” said Mr. Mullen.

“Tell Coach Maxwell I’m rooting for him,” Lee said. “I think it’s really gross that some people might want a
different man running the team. They don’t know what they’re doing if they let that happen.”

Brent said, “We won’t
let
it happen, right, Dad?”

“We’ll do what we can,” his father answered. “That much, I can promise you.”

When Brent and his father arrived at the big room that Coach Maxwell had reserved at the local middle school there were already
a lot of people there. Most of the players had come, and almost all of them had brought at least one parent with them. More
than half the chairs in the room were full. In the front of the room was a low platform with a few chairs and a microphone.

Brent saw that Cam and his parents were among those present. So were Coach Seabrook and Vic. The parents were gathered in
small groups talking quietly. A few boys were talking and laughing, but several of them, including Arno, Chip, Sandy, and
Ted, were quiet and serious.

“Where’s Coach Maxwell?” asked Brent, looking around the room. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s going to be here, I’m sure of that,” said Mr.
Mullen. He checked his watch. “It’s a few minutes early yet.”

Arno and Ted caught Brent’s eye and waved. Brent nodded toward them but stayed with his dad. He didn’t feel like talking.

The door opened, and Coach Maxwell walked in. Coach Seabrook and a few parents came up to him, and he shook hands with them
and then walked to the front of the room.

He adjusted the microphone and spoke into it. “Can everyone hear me? If everyone would take seats, we can start.”

All the conversations stopped. Once everyone in the room was sitting, the coach went on. “First of all, I want to thank everyone
for getting here on very short notice. This meeting is a first for me, as it is for all of you, I’m sure. But some questions
have come up that need to be discussed, and this will give anyone who wants their opinion to be heard the chance to speak
up.”