Page 73 of Punked By the Playmaker
Crew’s hand hovered over the basket. “But why?”
“Because I’m sick and tired of watching you fools chase after the puck at the same time instead of remembering your positioning.”
I waved the device. “How are these supposed to help with positioning?”
Now that each player had one in their possession, Coach moved to the center of the room, careful not to step on the Surf logo imprinted on the carpet—he might be a hard-ass, but he respected the superstition. “These are programmed a little differently than what you’re picturing. Instead of going off when you go past a set perimeter, these will give you a little zap when you get too close to two or more of the others. I’ll turn them on for a minute, so you can give them a try.” When all we did was stare at him like he’d lost his damn mind, he clapped. “Now!”
Everyone hustled to strap on the shock bracelets.
Pulling out his phone, Coach let his finger hover over the screen. “Ready?”
A few grunts sounded, and he took that for a yes.
As soon as he turned them on, a strong vibration emanated from the unorthodox training aide. It wasn’t sharp enough to be incapacitating as you’d expect from a taser, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and after only about thirty seconds, I was ready for him to make it stop.
Coach noticed a few guys squirming in their seats and chuckled. “Unpleasant, isn’t it? I want you to avoid having these go off at all costs. Two of you battling for a puck against the wall or defending the crease is fine, but we don’t need four of you on top of each other. Ever.”
He hit the button that turned them off, and several guys groaned in relief.
“The sooner you remember how to play the game properly, the sooner I can stop trying to beat the bad habits out of you by any means necessary.”
With another wicked smirk, he turned on his heel and left us to finish getting dressed.
Never a dull day with Davenport at the helm.
Chapter 21
Arizona
IliedwhenItold Levi I was in a rush to get to work. But it was the truth that I couldn’t be late.
Today was important. Not that anyone outside of a select few knew why.
The church basement looked the same as it had been the first time I came here—scared out of my mind to bare my soul to a bunch of strangers—but a lot of the faces had changed. Some lost their lives to our shared battle; others simply gave up the fight. And every meeting brought with it those who were shaky and pale, at the very start of their sobriety journey.
Celebrating longevity, like I would today, gave hope to those new to our group—hope that they could battle their demons and win, hope that they could regain control of their lives with the right support system.
While I was pouring a cup of coffee from the breakfast spread in the back of the room, a hand snaked around my waist.
“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, Arizona.” My sponsor, Maggie, gave me a side hug.
I hauled in a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
She shook her head with a smile. “You did all the hard work. All I did was offer you a shoulder to lean on or a sounding board when you needed one.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, and my voice came out thick. “You did so much more than that, and you know it.”
Without Maggie’s constant support, I had no doubt I would have ended up dead from an overdose. Those early years were rough, so rough that I relapsed a few times, but she never gave up on me, never once judged me for falling off the wagon. She always showed up when I called her crying and took care of me when I had to go through the agony of withdrawal all over again.
Maggie tucked a curl behind my ear. “The only one who can maintain their sobriety for as long as you have is you, my friend. But I’m beyond honored that you have allowed me to be a part of your journey.”
“If everyone could take their seats, we’re about ready to begin,” the group’s current chairperson announced.
Within minutes, the folding chairs facing a makeshift podium were all occupied, and we were being led through The Serenity Prayer, most of us reciting the words from memory, the newer members following along from a posted placard.
Then came the sharing portion of the meeting, where those who wanted to speak about their journey were invited to the podium. There were a few regulars who chose to share whenever they were in attendance, as well as a few brave souls who got up to tell their stories for the very first time.
Next, it was time to award sobriety chips. We cheered loudly for those completing their first twenty-four hours, knowing how difficult that first step was, and providing as muchencouragement as possible to help bolster them through the rough days ahead. There were a handful of thirty- and ninety-day chips, as well as a two-year chip, before Maggie made her way to the podium, smiling from ear to ear.
