The Games We Play

“Listen up,” Joel Quenneville announced to his team as they stripped off their gear in the locker room after practice. The young captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, Jonathan Toews, looked up from untying his skates and gave his coach his undivided attention. “The playoffs are approaching in the next few weeks and I want us to be as prepared as possible. That’s why, starting next week, we’re going to start doing some off-ice training to keep you guys all loose and limber.”

“Off-ice training?” Jonathan questioned, reading the confused looks of his fellow teammates. “What do you mean?”

“Loyola University Chicago has offered to let us use their soccer fields as training grounds,” Joel clarified. “Implementing soccer drills is a good way to keep your legs fresh. It’ll help with your footwork on the ice. They’ve even volunteered to let their two star players from their varsity teams come to help sort everything out.”

Jonathan glanced over at his best friend and line mate Patrick Kane. He looked less than impressed, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He caught Patrick’s glance and shrugged his way. Patrick just rolled his eyes and let out an indignant yawn.

“I’ve met one of the two that are going to coach you through the exercises,” Joel continued. “I think you’ll like him. He’s a really nice guy and he vouched for his partner.”

The entire locker room murmured in agreement, although none of them were all too enthusiastic about the prospect of having to spend time practicing soccer instead of hockey.

“Man, as if we don’t waste enough time as it is,” Patrick grunted, shoving his equipment into his bag.

Jonathan shrugged. “Keep an open mind. If Coach says it’ll help, then it’ll help.”

“Yeah, sure, kicking a ball around the grass sounds like a hoot,” Patrick muttered as he made his way to the showers. Jonathan scratched at the back of his neck and didn’t say anything. To him, it did sound like a bit of fun. Besides, how bad could it be?

* * * *

“Lacey!”

Lacey whipped her head around, her long, dirty blond ponytail swaying as she did. Her bangs were being held back by a white headband so that they stayed out of blue-gray eyes. She had been practicing her keep-ups with the soccer ball in the middle of the field, but stopped when she heard her name being called. “Yes?”

One of her best friends, Derek, ran over to her with his backpack flung over one shoulder. Derek was the captain of the men’s soccer team and was widely known to be the best forward in Chicago. Lacey was the captain of the women’s team, but played as a defenseman.

Derek hovered over, standing at 6 feet, and announced, “We have something exciting happening next week.”

Lacey eyed Derek carefully. His hazel eyes held an air of excitement, and the way the wind was blowing in his scruffy light brown hair gave him an almost childish appearance. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning. “What is it?” she finally decided to ask.

“The Chicago Blackhawks are coming here. To Loyola. To practice their soccer skills. Next week. With us.”

Lacey blinked a few times, failing to see what would be so exciting. “Can you repeat that again, but include the relevance this time and not speak in sentence fragments?”

Derek frowned and gave Lacey a slight shove, causing her to wobble back on her heels before her cleats planted themselves back firmly on the ground. “It’s a huge deal! The head coach of the team said that he wants the guys to practice their footwork well before the playoffs start so they can have a better chance at winning the Stanley Cup this year. And he wants us to help them! Isn’t that awesome?”

“You know how I feel about hockey,” Lacey said pointedly. “Not really my favourite sport.”

“You may not like the sport, but the guys are still human beings,” Derek reminded her. “And besides, you have no choice but to participate. I already told Mr. Quenneville and your coach that you’d be glad to help out. And don’t worry,” he continued as Lacey opened her mouth to protest. “I’ll be right here with you. It’s not like they’re going to try and rape you or anything, Lace. It’s just supposed to be fun.”

Lacey sighed and shuffled the soccer ball around her feet. “Fine,” she announced. “I’ll be there. What day?”

“Next Thursday at eleven,” Derek said with a crooked smile. “Bring your happy face. Promise?”

“I promise nothing,” Lacey replied. “Depends on how my game goes next Tuesday. We’ll see just how happy I am come Thursday.”

Derek chuckled and walked off to his next class, waving to Lacey as he did. Lacey let out a long breath and started to run with the ball, deked past imaginary opponents before winding up her right leg and taking a powerful shot at the empty net. She smiled to herself as the ball curled in and hit the mesh in the top left hand corner.

She went to go collect the ball and took a sip of water as she walked. She thought about Thursday, about having professional athletes coming to her school being completely out of their element and having to rely on her and Derek to teach them on improving their footwork. She picked up the ball and spun it around in her hands. When she thought about it, it did sound like a bit of fun. Besides, how bad could it be?