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.”
A voice called out, “Who’s in charge here? Are you going to run this meeting?” Brent recognized the speaker as Burt’s dad. He had a hunch that Burt’s dad was one of the people who liked Coach Seabrook’s ideas because he didn’t sound very friendly toward Coach Maxwell.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” said Coach Maxwell. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well, I don’t think you should run it,” said Burt’s dad. “I mean, the main question here is whether you should still coach this team, so I think someone who’s neutral ought to be the one to run the meeting.”
“Fine with me,” said the coach. After a short discussion, Chip’s father, Mr. Sullivan, was picked. Mr. Sullivan went to the microphone.
“Uh, let’s start by asking each coach to say what he thinks about the direction the team should take. Then anyone who wants to be heard can speak his mind. Coach Maxwell, why don’t you begin?”
Coach Maxwell returned to the mike.
“I don’t really have much to say. You know me and what I believe in. When you work with boys who are eleven, twelve, thirteen years old, your basic job is to teach hockey skills and technique, and the strategies of the game. I’ve never placed much emphasis on winning for its own sake, and I’m not about to start now. If I’m still the coach, I’ll keep doing what I’ve always done. Thank you.”
He walked away from the mike. A few people clapped.
Brent had hoped for a more emotional speech, something with fire in it that would have swept away opposition to his staying. But Coach Maxwell hadn’t spoken for more than a few seconds and hadn’t raised his voice.
“Thanks, Coach Maxwell,” said Mr. Sullivan, who’d been as surprised as everyone else by the shortness of the coach’s speech. “Coach Seabrook, your turn.”
The other coach took the microphone.
“Well, most of you don’t know me, so I’ll need a little more of your time. I played hockey for many years, and I’ve coached for several years. While I agree that a coach has to be a teacher, I think he needs to do more than that. A coach can take a bunch of kids and make something special of them. He can see to it that the boys who play for him have an experience they’ll look back on with pride for the rest of their lives. He can make them tough, he can make them competitors… he can make them winners!”
Several audience members began to applaud, but Coach Seabrook cut them off.
“I don’t know when ‘winning’ became an ugly word, but that’s what seems to have happened in many people’s minds. If you feel that way about winning, then you do not want me as your coach.
“The world is a tough place, and I’m not just talking about sports. To succeed, you have to feel confident. You have to stand up for yourself. You can’t let anybody walk over you. Sports prepare you to compete in life and be a winner in that game, too. The players I coach may not always be the most well-liked kids on the block, but they will always get respect. And they will win.”
Coach Seabrook nodded and walked away from the mike. Several parents — and several players — clapped loudly.
Brent looked at his father and saw concern on Mr. Mullen’s face. Coach Seabrook’s words had been well received. If a vote were taken now, Brent thought that the new coach might very well get a majority.
Mr. Sullivan addressed the group. “If anyone wants to speak… yes, Mr. Wood?”
Brent recognized the man at the mike as Barry’s father. He said, “Uh, I want to say that I really admire and respect Coach Maxwell. He’s a good man who’s done fine things here, and I’m grateful, as we all are. But sometimes, you have to be ready to make a change, and I believe this is one of those times. I think Coach Seabrook can do a lot for my son and all these boys, and I want to give him the chance to do that. Now, he can do them in cooperation with Coach Maxwell, if Coach Maxwell is willing to share the job. Or if he isn’t willing… well, then, like I say, it’s time for a change. That’s all I have to say.”
Brent turned to his father, wanting him to speak up for Coach Maxwell. “Dad?”
Mr. Mullen nodded and raised his hand.
Mr. Sullivan signaled for him to take the microphone.
Mr. Mullen said, “Before Brent was a Badger, his older brother, Lee, played for Coach Maxwell. I know some of you have older sons who did the same. Lee’s still playing hockey. In fact, he’s one of the top high school players in the county, maybe the state. He’s got a great shot at a scholarship because of hockey.
“I believe — so does Lee — that he owes his success mostly to Coach Maxwell. There are other boys out there who Coach Maxwe
ll made into fine players on high school and college teams. I can give you names if you like. Were the Badgers champions when Lee was with them? No, they were about average, just like they are now. But boys on those teams came away knowing how to shoot, how to pass, all the basic things that make top hockey players. And good citizens, as well.
“Coach Maxwell does produce ‘winners,’ at least what I think of as winners. We’d be making a big mistake to let him get away. I hope we think long and hard and don’t do something we’ll regret. Thanks.”
There was some applause as Mr. Mullen sat back down.
Several other parents spoke after Brent’s dad. A few favored Coach Seabrook, others liked Coach Maxwell, while one or two wanted both to work together. Brent thought that the group was evenly split between making a change and keeping things as they had been.
Once everyone who wanted to speak had been heard, Mr. Sullivan took the mike again. He looked puzzled. “It looks like we’re not sure what we should do. I’m not quite sure what happens next.”
Mr. Mullen said, “The team plays their next game the day after tomorrow. I don’t think it would be right to change coaches without a clear majority in favor of it, and certainly not when the boys have a game coming up. So I think we should leave Coach Maxwell in charge for now.”
Barry’s father, who liked Coach Seabrook, said, “For now, yes. But that doesn’t mean forever. I mean, this isn’t settled yet.”
Coach Maxwell, who had watched the discussion from the side of the room, stood up. “I’d like to say something, if I may.”
“Sure,” Mr. Sullivan said.
Coach Maxwell said, “I’m grateful for the kind words some of you said about me. And I have no hard feelings towards those who want to make a change. Maybe it’s time for a change, it’s hard for me to know. What I do know is, I don’t want to see more of the problems the team has had for the last few days. I don’t think a team can work together when it’s run by two coaches whose approaches to the game are as different as mine and Coach Seabrook’s. And I don’t want to risk causing still more bad feelings and difficulty. I’ve had fun in this job, but I guess this is where I should turn it over to the new man and a new viewpoint. So, after the game against the Cyclones, this will be Coach Sea-brook’s team. Thank you.”
Coach Maxwell walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence behind him.
12
Brent wanted to yell “No! It’s not right,” but he realized that he couldn’t do that. Still, it was hard for him to believe what he’d just heard Coach Maxwell say.
Behind him, he heard Coach Seabrook say, “This isn’t what I wanted. I thought we would help each other, that we could work together. I feel really bad about this.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” said one of the fathers.
“I don’t think it’s right, what Coach Maxwell did,” said another.
Mr. Mullen said, “He was right that he and Coach Seabrook can’t work together. Their attitudes are too different, and it confuses the team. We already see the kind of trouble that causes. He wanted to avoid more of the same.”
Mr. Sullivan said, “Well, now it’s going to be Coach Seabrook’s team. Personally, I think he’ll be an improvement.”
“I guess we’ll see soon enough,” said Mr. Mullen. “Let’s go, son.”
On the way home, Brent stared out the window, saying nothing.
“I know this is a big disappointment,” said his father as they got close to home. “Just hang in there for now and see how it goes. If you decide to leave the Badgers, I’ll understand and so will Lee.”
“How can this happen?” Brent demanded. “Don’t they get it? That other guy is bad news!”
“Some people just love the idea of being number one, I guess,” said Mr. Mullen. “Just be glad you got started in hockey under Coach Maxwell. Even if you don’t play the whole season with the Badgers, there’ll be other teams, maybe in school. Just don’t give up on hockey.”
Brent shook his head. “I won’t. I just feel bad about my friends… like Cam. How could he think this guy has the right idea?”
Mr. Mullen pulled into their driveway. He reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. “Don’t let it get you. You never know. Maybe things will still work out.”
Brent found that hard to believe.
The next day was the last practice before the game against the Cyclones… and the last practice for Coach Maxwell. As the boys gathered to do their stretches, Coach Maxwell said, “Coach Seabrook will be in charge after the game tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll do a great job, and I expect you all to give him the same cooperation and attention you always gave me. Now let’s get ready for the Cyclones.”
The mood of the practice was quiet. The skate-around and the drills — for shooting, passing, and so on — went pretty much as they usually did. Once again, Coach Maxwell spent time practicing with the centers and wings while Coach Seabrook worked separately with the defensemen and goalies. After a break, the two groups got back together for a scrimmage. Each coach ran a squad. Everyone, coaches and players, was being very careful not to lose his temper.
Gavin, the starting center on Brent’s squad, controlled the face-off. He dropped a pass back to Arno, one of his defensemen, who hit a backhand pass to Brent. Brent skated across the red line and left a drop pass for Burt to bring into the offensive zone. Gavin looked like he was open, and Burt sent a pass across the ice toward him, but Cam slammed Gavin into the right-side boards before the puck reached him. Gavin looked around for a penalty call, but the acting officials had had their attention focused elsewhere. To Brent, the penalty by Cam had been obvious and deliberate. Cam took the puck and brought it down the ice along the boards. He shot it down the ice, and an official whistled play to a stop.
“That was icing,” he called. “Let’s have the puck over here.”
Icing can only happen when both teams are at full strength. It is called when a player behind the red line sends the puck all the way past the other team’s goal line. There’s no penalty time involved, and play resumes with a face-off near where the icing was called.
This time, Ted got the puck on the face-off and passed back to Cam. Cam fired over to Sandy near the red line. Brent moved in on Sandy, who sent the puck back to Cam. Arno attempted to check Cam off the puck, but Vic came in from the side and shoved Arno hard, pushing him away from the play. Arno whirled around angrily.
“What was that supposed to be?” he yelled.
“Keep playing unless there’s a whistle!” called Coach Seabrook from the sidelines.
Arno shook his head, looking disgusted.
Cam passed to Ted. Darryl came in on the fly to replace Vic and took a pass from Ted, sending it quickly over to Barry, his squadmate. Barry fired a slap shot that Chip blocked with his stick, but the puck caromed straight to Cam. Before Chip could get back in position, Cam slid the puck into the net for a goal.
As the rest of Cam’s squad came over to slap his back and congratulate him, Arno skated over to Brent. “Did you see what happened? That was a foul! Vic should have gone to the penalty box, for sure! There shouldn’t have been a goal.”
Brent shrugged. “The linesman didn’t see it. That happens sometimes.”
“It happens too often lately,” grumbled Arno. “I think I’m going to quit this team after tomorrow. I don’t like what’s going on around here, and it’s going to get worse.”
“I hear you,” Brent answered. “I don’t know if I’m going to stay or leave.”
A few minutes later, Darryl fell heavily to the ice when it looked like he might have a breakaway. Brent, who was on the bench at the time, wasn’t sure what had happened, but Barry had been right behind Darryl just before he fell. Arno, sitting next to Brent, poked him.
“You think Darryl fell down by accident? I bet that was more of Coach Seabrook’s new style.”
Brent wasn’t sure what had happened. What bothered him was that he couldn’t say for certain that Arno was wrong.
After practice, he joined Cam outside to wait for their ride. Brent said, “Arno says he’s quitting the team.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard,” Cam answered. “Chip may leave, too.”
This was news to Brent. Chip was not only a nice guy, he was by far their best goalie. That would be a major loss for the Badgers.
Cam said, “What about you? You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Brent realized that he still didn’t know what he’d do. He hated the idea of walking out on the team. It made him feel guilty even to think about it. But he also hated playing the kind of hockey that the new coach wanted. He didn’t say anything.
“Are you?” Cam repeated. “Come on, man, don’t quit! We need you. I need you. You’re making too much of a big deal about this new coach.”
“I don’t think so,” said Brent. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I don’t want to play that way. In fact, even if I stay, I’m not going to play that game. And don’t tell me to grow up or say welcome to the real world or anything like that. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Lighten up, all right?” Cam said, looking unhappy. “I didn’t say those things.”
Brent kicked a pebble off the sidewalk. “All I’m saying for now is I’ll be there tomorrow and give it one hundred percent. After that… well, I don’t know yet.”
He really didn’t know, and it was too bad.
13
The next day, Mr. Mullen drove to the rink. Brent sat in the back with his equipment piled next to him. Lee sat up front with their father. He glanced at Brent, who hadn’t wanted to talk much.
Lee broke the silence. “How are you feeling? Ready for the game, bro?”
Brent said, “Yeah, I’m ready. For the game, that is. I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever I’ll be doing after the game.”
“Don’t let that other stuff distract you,” Lee warned. “Okay? The game comes first.”
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