Page 13 of The Callahan Effect

His voice remained calm, yet every player focused intently upon him.

"During the time you're here, there are no seniors, no freshmen, no transfers, no scholarship players and no walk-ons. There is one team. If someone struggles, you help them. If someone succeeds, you celebrate with them. Nobody walks away because something becomes difficult."

He gestured toward the cabins.

"You'll be staying in groups of four. The assignments weren't made randomly. I expect you to learn something about the players sharing your cabin before we leave on Sunday. Not where they're from or what position they play. Learn what matters to them. Learn why they're here."

He reached into the folder tucked beneath his arm.

"When this retreat finishes, I don't want twenty-six hockey players returning to campus."

He paused just long enough for his words to sink in.

"I want one family."

One by one he began reading the cabin assignments.

When my name was called, I found myself paired with Ryan, Oscar, and Ben. Judging by Oscar's broad grin, he approved.

"Coach must like you."

"Why?" I asked.

"He put you with us," Oscar answered.

Ryan shook his head. "Don't oversell it, Oscar."

Ben smiled. "He's been doing that since freshman year."

Chuckling, I followed them toward the timber cabin nestled amongst the towering pines, wondering whether surviving five days with Oscar Niewald might prove as challenging and entertaining, as anything Coach Callahan had planned.

The inside of the cabin proved far more comfortable than I'd expected, although it was obvious comfort had never been the priority. A large stone fireplace dominated the common room, its mantle crowded with framed photographs of past Evergreen teams during previous preseason retreats. Teams dating back more than twenty years smiled proudly from those pictures, every photograph displaying the same mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. Dusty hiking boots rested beside players with scraped knees, mud-streaked faces and arms slung over one another's shoulders. They were less like championship hockey teams and more like groups of lifelong friends who had happened to spend a few unforgettable days together.

Ryan led us down the short hallway to the large bedroom we'd be sharing. Four single beds, each with a small bedside table had enough floor space between them to keep hockey bags from becoming an obstacle course.

"I've always taken this one," Oscar announced, dropping his duffel onto a bed nearest the window.

Ryan didn't even look up.

"You've said that every year."

"Because no one argues."

Ben set his bag on the bed opposite and began unpacking with familiar efficiency, folding shirts into the wardrobe instead of leaving them in his duffel.

"I'll take this one," I informed, choosing the remaining bed beside Ryan's.

Oscar looked around the room with obvious satisfaction.

"See? Everybody's happy."

Ryan zipped open his bag.

"Give it an hour."

A whistle shrilled outside and Ryan glanced at his watch.

"Right on schedule."