Page 16 of The Callahan Effect

The hike back to the lodge passed in tired silence. Coach allowed barely enough time to refill water bottles before leading us toward the open field behind the cabins.

At first glance, there appeared to be nothing particularly challenging about the area. Several thick ropes lay coiled on the grass beside weathered wooden beams, a stack of old tractor tires rested beneath the trees, and a pair of canoes sat upside down near the shoreline. It was more like an outdoor education camp than the training ground for one of the country's leading college hockey programs.

Coach allowed us a minute to study the equipment before speaking.

"Most people believe leadership belongs to captains."

He picked up one end of a thick climbing rope.

"They're wrong."

Without warning, he tossed it toward Ryan, who caught it easily.

"Leadership belongs to whoever chooses to step forward when the team needs them."

His gaze travelled slowly across the group.

"Sometimes that's your captain."

He turned his focus on Ben.

"Sometimes it's the quietest player on the roster."

Then Ethan.

"Sometimes it's the player who keeps everyone laughing when morale disappears."

Finally his attention turned to me.

"And sometimes it's the newest player in the room."

The statement caught me completely by surprise.

Coach continued before anyone could react.

"The next few hours aren't about strength. They're about communication. You'll work in different groups each time. Your success depends entirely on how well you listen to one another."

What followed became the most demanding afternoon I'd experienced since I first laced on a pair of skates as a child. We dragged tires across uneven ground using ropes that required every member of the team pulling together or the load refused to move. We carried heavy wooden beams through dense forest without allowing them to touch the ground, forcing constant communication as branches, rocks and narrow paths threatened to throw everyone out of step. Blindfolded navigation exercises demanded complete trust as one player relied entirely on teammates' directions to negotiate a winding course between trees.

Nobody dominated.

Nobody tried to be the hero.

Whenever someone made a mistake, the group stopped, adjusted, and started again without complaint.

Late in the afternoon Coach introduced what the veterans referred to as The Hill. From the bottom it appeared vertical.

The challenge itself sounded deceptively simple. Each group would carry all equipment used throughout the day to the summit without leaving anything behind. There were no time limits and no prizes for finishing first. The only rule was that all players had to reach the top together.

Halfway up the climb Oscar's breathing became noticeably heavier.

"You all right?" Ryan asked.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

"I've been better," the big man admitted.