Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

Four days later we were packing up the car to head out to Wilkes-Barre, my uncle excitedly chattering away, a smile on his face that he just couldn't get rid of. I think the last time he took any time off of work was when my dad passed away, and possibly for one Christmas sometime before that, and that was all I could ever remember.

I fell asleep while he was driving, and when it was time to switch laughed when I realized he'd been trying to wake me up for a few minutes in the parking lot of a gas station.

"Sorry," I sheepishly said, and he just smiled and shook his head.

"Too nervous to sleep last night?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Don't worry about it honey, you'll do great,"

"Thanks," we grabbed some snack food and hit the road again, with me driving the remaining hundred and forty or so miles to Wilkes-Barre. We got there right around supper time, so we checked into a hotel and then went out for supper.

"Holy shit," I choked on my pop as I saw two men walk into the restaurant.

"What? Who's that?" he asked.

"Brad Thiessen and Simon Despres," I hissed, not wanting them to hear.

"Oh,"

"The goalie and a top-pick defenseman," I supplied, and his eyes widened.

"Wow, that's exciting. Think of it; tomorrow you're gonna be skating with those guys," he said, and I couldn't help but smile; I was so ecstatic about trying out.

"You're trying out?" Simon asked, startling us. They must have been close enough to hear us when Uncle Rob was talking.

"Yeah, we just drove out from Rhode Island today," I nodded.

"Cool; nice to meet you. I'm Simon," he offered me his hand, which I gladly shook.

"Cameron Bates, and this is my Uncle; Rob Bates," I introduced him and Simon shook his hand as well.

"Simon Despres; I play defense. Well good luck to you tomorrow; I'll see you at the rink. Nine o'clock sharp, right?"

"You bet; see you then," I nodded, and he walked over to the table Brad Thiessen had sat down at.

"Wow, that was cool," I said to Uncle Rob after a moment.

"Better get over the star-struck thing Cam; they could very well be your teammates before long," he told me, as if it were no big deal as he went back to eating his hamburger. I continued eating, trying to comprehend all of this happening. I'd never imagined I would be in Pennsylvania trying out for an AHL team; I had honestly worried I'd never make it past Junior A hockey.

I hardly slept all night; my stomach was too touchy and my nerves too jumbled. I knew it would more than likely hurt me tomorrow, but I couldn't seem to calm myself down enough to even get a good night's sleep. I was up and ready to go at eight, sitting on the edge of my bed waiting for Uncle Rob to get going so he could drive me to the rink. Then I think he had plans to meet up with a bunch of friends he'd went to school with; they'd kept in touch but hadn't seen each other in years.

"Come on! I'm gonna be late!" I complained as he finally came out of the bathroom.

"Cool it Cam; it's only twenty after eight; you'll be there plenty early," he rolled his eyes at me before we headed outside. The drive took about fifteen minutes so I had lots of time to check out the arena before changing. I always wore my Under-Armor and everything under my clothes so I didn't really have to 'change', it made things way less complicated for me.

"Hello? Who're you?" I lifted my head to see John Hynes walk in, with Alain Nasreddine behind him.

"Cameron Bates? Nice to meet you," he immediately offered his hand for me to shake as I stood up.

"Nice to meet you; you must be Alain Nasreddine,"

"Yes; and this is John Hynes; he's head coach. John this is the guy I was telling you about," he said, and John gave me a slightly unbelieving look.

"You are a pretty small guy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I'm a little undersized," I agreed, to which he chuckled.

"Well that's a good start; usually guys get offended or spout off. I'm John, nice to meet you. Alain was showing me some footage and telling me all about you yesterday," he grinned, finding my apparent surprise funny.

"R-really? Wow, that's…" I was at a loss for words.

"So you're not playing with the Bears? Why the change of heart?" he asked me a moment later. I felt my cheeks heat up, the disappointment not quite gone.

"I didn't make the team. The coach told me they were trying to add to the physicality this year and he didn't see me as a part of that," I answered, not able to make eye contact with him.

"So you're not a physical player on the ice?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can be; I've just always been taught to try and use my speed rather than get shown up trying to outmuscle guys five inches taller and forty pounds heavier. But I'll learn, I can work on it," I assured him, to which he nodded.

"We'll run some drills and see about that. At least you're willing to work on it. It should be a good practice," he said, and suddenly the door swung open and four guys walked in.

"Bates! Nice to see you again," Simon grinned as he saw me.

"You too Despres; ready to play?"

"So you've met?" John asked, looking confused.

"Thiessen and I went for supper last night and heard Cam talking to his uncle about trying out, so we talked for like a minute," he shrugged, walking over to his spot and putting his gear down.

"Well that's good; you'll get to know the guys pretty quickly Cam. I'll see you guys in about twenty minutes out on the ice," he said, and with a wave John left.

"Good luck guys," Alain added before leaving as well.

"So just where are you from?" Brad asked.

"Manitoba; I was in Rhode Island with my uncle trying out for the Bears, and then a guy on the team told me about the try outs," I answered, sinking to the floor to stretch a bit before-hand. I never did any big stretches before a few warm-up laps, I was still a little stiff in places from Bear's tryouts.

"Cool! What town?"

"Delarane," I answered, and he looked confused.

"Don't worry about it; it's a small town," I reassured him with a chuckle as we all began putting our equipment on. I happened to be rustling through my bag for something while they were changing, not wanting to catch a glimpse of anybody as more guys were continuously filing in.

"All right! Three laps to warm up and then do some stretching guys!" John instructed before blowing his whistle. The first lap was slow, and as soon as I felt my muscles easing into the motion I sped up, and then realized I was way ahead of everybody. Immediately I slowed down, not wanting to look like a show-off; it had just always been my routine.

"None of that Bates! If you're gonna give it skate hard," John hollered from the other side of the rink so I would hear it. My face turned red as I refused to do so, hanging in the middle of the pack.

"Bates!" once we were back with everybody he called me out again.

"Yes?"

"Get your ass up; do two laps; one like you were and then I want to see you give it all you've got," he told me, and when I hesitated he blew his whistle and raised an eyebrow. So I did as I was told, and it felt great to dig my skates in and fly down the length of the rink to whip into a stop back in front of him.

"Impressive. Now if I see you holding back because you don't want to 'embarrass' yourself or whatever your problem was that's it; you're here to compete remember," he said, tapping my shin with his hockey stick and leaving me dumbfounded. I sat down on the ice, basically in the splits to stretch, still a little embarrassed and confused.

"Shit he's fast," I heard the whisper, and let out a deep breath. I couldn't let anything distract me, I wasn't going to screw this up.

The next two hours was being split up and doing drills; letting John and Alain see how we skated, stick-handled, read the ice, took shots, that sort of thing.

Then it was time for a little contact scrimmage.

I was nervous, I'll admit; I was definitely the smallest person out on the ice. But I had to take a deep breath and square my shoulders, pretend like I wasn't almost scared enough to call it quits.

I took the puck up the ice, trying to be as fast as possible, until I realized the rest of my line wasn't there with me, and I was stuck between Simon and Alex Grant. I managed to avoid them just long enough to see Carl Sneep cross the blue line. Just as I was passing the puck I was slammed into the boards, feeling the air leave my chest as all six foot four inches of Simon pinned me there for a moment before continuing on his way.

"Shit," I choked out a breath before forcing myself back into the play. I chased Alex down deep, and saw the opportunity to hit. This wasn't really my thing, I'm more of a steal the puck from you and get the hell out of there type of player in this kind of situation, but I needed to prove to John that I could play physical. So I slammed into him, catching his left shoulder with my left, both of us staggering back after the hit.

"Shit, did you seriously just try to hit me?" he asked after John blew the whistle as Brad covered up the puck.

"Yeah, I don't think it worked," I admitted, feeling stupid.

"Hey, I didn't keep going with the puck, that counts as a good hit," he assured me, much to my surprise. Now my shoulder hurt like a bitch though.

Our line sat off, Ben Street and Paul Thompson both talking about their play and what they could've done differently. I sat there and quietly watched the rest of the guys, trying to find tendencies, and most of all figure out how they were hitting.

"Hey, next time you try to hit somebody, drop your shoulder just a little," Ben suggested, startling me.

"Huh?"

"Drop your shoulder, it gives them a little more impact and uses your momentum. You're one of those speedy little puck stealers aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly big enough to be the 'I'm gonna muscle it from you' kind of player; as we all saw," I grinned, making both of them laugh.

"You'll learn, don't worry. It's just weird when you're not used to playing like that, but when you get into the swing of it you'll figure it out," Paul assured me.

"Thanks, that's good to hear," I nodded.

"So how old are you?"

"I turn twenty the end of October," I answered, and he nodded.

"Lots of time to learn, don't worry yourself about it. John knows what people he can work with and help improve and who won't; just cuz you don't know how to do it now doesn't mean you're screwed off a roster spot," he shrugged, as if it was no big deal and I was guaranteed a spot on the team. It was cool to actually feel accepted by guys on this team; nobody had been mean to me or tried to make me feel like I was different and an outsider here.

By the time practice was over I was so tired I could hardly stand up. John gave us a bit of a pep-talk, as tomorrow would be kind of a practice followed by a scrimmage that would be open to the public. By the time I left the rink and got back to the hotel I was more than ready to sleep. I crawled onto my bed and laid there, breathing deeply and wishing I could fall asleep but too excited for it to happen. I was here, trying out for an actual fricking AHL team, and more than that I was even holding my own.