Read an Excerpt
Chapter 1
Loud, constant cheers and the crack of wooden hockey sticks frantically
trying to get the puck rang out in the frigid air and bounced back from the
arena's concrete walls and the wooden stands where parents were stamping their
feet to keep warm.
On the ice there was a mad scramble behind the home net as the clock hit
zero, the horn sounded, and the game ended. The spectators quickly exited to the
heated canteen while the players headed for the dressing rooms.
When it came to energy, drive, and enthusiasm, the grade-five boys hockey
team at Riverbend Elementary School was truly remarkable. Every single player
was destined for NHL stardom.
At least that's what they believed. If unflinching belief in one's own
ability and a can-do attitude were the magic key to success, the Riverbend
Warriors would have been at the top of their league.
Unfortunately, in reality, they had lost most of their games. When they won,
it usually meant the opposing team was playing even worse hockey. And this
Saturday, Riverbend had lost again.
As Alan Foster watched his son, David, and his teammates go down to yet
another humiliating loss, he marveled at how little the boys seemed aware of
their own shortcomings. Skating off the ice they were defiant in defeat. A bad
referee, bad ice, bad breaks, and even bad skate sharpening were among the
culprits being named. No one was accepting responsibility, individually or
collectively, for the loss.
"Another great night of grade-five hockey," said Alan to Coach Milt Gorman
while David, down in the locker room, changed to street clothes.
"I've always dreamed of a great team. Instead, once again we got our heads
handed to us," replied Milt with a warm laugh.
"You and Coach Nanton really are wonderful the way you give so much time to
this," said Alan.
"Gives me a chance to spend time with my son' and besides, I love the game,"
said Coach Gorman as he stepped out of the player's box on his way to the locker
room. "Some days, though, I do wish I didn't have a team with half of the boys
frightened to go after the puck and the other half hogging the puck the second
they get their stick on it."
The reference to puck hogs rattled Alan, but not as much as Coach Gorman's
next words: "David told my Billy that you got cut loose at work.
"That's right," replied Alan with more brusqueness than he intended.
"Sorry to hear that," said Milt as he swung several spare hockey sticks up on
his shoulder. "Bad luck."
"No," Alan heard himself saying emphatically,not bad luck. The last four or
five years the company has been changing. I didn't. The result was I didn't fit
anymore. It wasn't bad luck or even a bad ref or bad ice. It was my fault."
"Jeez," said Milt. "If our kids had half the guts and gumption you've got to
take personal responsibility for what happens, they might really be on their way
to the NHL."
"To tell the truth, this is the first time I've admitted it to myself or
anyone else," said Alan. "I guess listening to those kids leaving the ice with
all their misplaced grumbling was a wake-up call."
Alan's admission was also right in line with his one-man-band philosophy. He
believed he had only himself to count on, so no one else could take the blame.
It also provided a way to avoid facing the real problem. He had accepted
responsibility. What more could he do? Case closed. No need to look deeper or
further.
Of course, Milt wasn't aware of this. He was thinking about something
entirely different.
"Well, here's the thing," said Milt. "I really didn't mean to embarrass
you."
"No problem," said Alan.
"Nice of you to say. But what I was trying to get at is that Gus Nanton and I
could really use help with these kids. I know from David that work used to keep
you busy most evenings and weekends, but I was hoping you might have the time
now to give us a hand."
"Me teach hockey? I haven't skated in years. I'm not even sure I remember the
rules," said Alan.
"I know the rules. Coach Nanton skates beautifully. Besides, as coaches we
have only one job and that's to get these kids working as a team, teaching them
that everyone, working together, will accomplish more than each of them giving
100 percent individually. That's where we could use some help. If these kids
learn the magic of teamwork, we'll have given them a greater gift than all the
skating practice and rule drill ever could."
The arena, which minutes before had reverberated with the clash of sticks and
cheers, was now deserted except for Alan and Milt.
"Okay," said Alan, taking a deep breath. "Second honest confession of the
night. The change I got fired over? Teamwork. I got fired even though I was one
of their best producers because I wasn't a team player. I'd hardly be the one to
teach teamwork."
Milt cocked his head to the side as if to better consider what Alan had said.
Then, shifting the weight of the hockey sticks on his shoulder, he replied:
"That company may not want you, but I do. I think you'll be perfect. You don't
have to sing like Pavarotti to teach singing."
Actually, Milt wasn't really concerned with perfection or even being average.
He just needed another parent to share the load.
Sensing interest, Milt continued: "My wife and I sell bottled water from our
store for a living. Gus Nanton is a graphic designer-on his own, works out of
his basement office. We know nothing about teamwork..
