Playing By The Rules

5. Caleb

"Did she seriously just reject me?"

Nick tilted his head and looked at me, a look of disapproval on his face. He stared me down for a few seconds before shaking his head and turning his focus back to his skates.

"I'm serious, Nick. Why would she reject me?" It didn't make any sense. I had never been rejected before, and for good reason. My good looks and killer charm were hard to turn down.

Nick continued to focus on tying his skate laces in the routine that he had developed since year one. Hockey is a sport of superstition. Not every player had one, but those who did followed it closely.

I had my very own routine, which I created back at age six. There were a few minor changes since the original version, but most of the pattern stayed the same. Protective gear. Shorts, then socks. Right skate. Left skate. Quick kiss on the "0" in the 10, my jersey number, before slipping the green and yellow top on. Helmet. Tighten the straps around my chin. Right glove. Left glove. Stick. Game time.

Once Nick was ready and dressed, he finally replied to my pressing question. "Jennifer rejected you. Last week. It's time to move on, Caleb. You have more important things to focus on, like today's practice. It's your second chance to impress Coach. You do want to get back on the team, right?"

"I do." Hockey played a big part in my life. I had to get back on the ice. Not only for the scouts, but for myself. Sitting on the bench or in the stands just felt wrong.

"So get dressed, get on the ice and put on a good show for Coach Stone. We can talk about Jennifer after the practice."

"Thanks." Nick had that steady presence that kept me, and the rest of the team, in line. He just knew how to handle our many issues.

"Don't sweat it."

Nick and I had discussed the tactic for this practice. As much as I hated Nick's suggestion, we both knew he was right. I had to at least play the part of a team player in order to win Coach Stone over. That was the only way to guarantee playing time during this important stretch in the season.

I went through my pregame routine and made my way down the corridor to the ice. The way the dark corridor parted into the arena lights was almost heavenly. It was one of the best parts about playing. Hearing your name being called out by fans as you emerged from the darkness. A sense of mysteriousness, like Batman but on skates.

Of course, the best part was putting the puck in the net.

The moment my freshly sharpened skates touched the smooth sheet of ice, my natural instincts came on in full throttle. I was determined to put on an impressive showing and blow Coach Stone away with my abilities.

Adrenaline raced through my body and I tore up the warmup lap, beating the next guy by a comfortable margin. I was ready to play.

"Nice hustle, Caleb, but try not to kill yourself before practice actually starts," Coach hollered from the benches, where he had a clipboard and other practice materials set up.

I just nodded in response. My focus was locked into performing up to standard. Once I was locked in, nothing could rattle me.

Absolutely nothing.

I breezed through the first few drills easily. They were elementary passing and shooting drills, designed to get us warmed up and ready for the more difficult drills.

Even though these were basic drills and nobody expected much from them, I treated each attempt as an in-game scenario. Each stride was longer, each pass was crisper and each shot was harder. My efforts were paying off because I noticed Coach Stone nodded after I won yet another sprint.