Page 14 of Shootout
“Two, actually.” I shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t stop myself. He deserved it.
He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth. “You haven’t heard the last of this.”
“Pete assigned that group to me. You’ll have to ask him why. I hope your issues aren’t because I’m a female.” I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. This time he was the one to turn away.
Troubled by his animosity, I watched him go. My first class started in minutes, and my day was packed. I didn’t have time to worry about Jonas. He wasn’t my concern. Learning all these new names and getting to know my students was my priority, not fretting over some guy’s fragile ego.
With a shrug, I headed for the locker room.
The group of older girls in my last evening lesson was not a disappointment. They were talented and working toward college scholarships. They paid attention and were eager to show what they could do. Marnie was the most impressive of the bunch but had an attitude, and it didn’t take me long to learn why.
Marnie’s father sat in the bleachers. He watched with a terse expression on his face as if he wasn’t pleased. Other parents were present, but none of them radiated disapproval like he did.
I knew who he was. Anyone associated with hockey knew who Boris Spechek was. He’d won multiple Stanley Cups in his fifteen-year career and still held team scoring records for both Calgary and Boston. He was a legend. Once he retired, the Sockeyes snatched him up for a scout, and he also did some broadcasting of major games. Getting on his bad side would not bode well for my coaching career.
During a brief break, he called his daughter over to the boards and berated her for what he termed slacking off. He kept his tone low, but everyone heard him. He criticized her two-hundred-foot game, her slap shot, and her face-offs.
I took a deep breath and counted to ten. This man was going to be trouble, and I’d have to figure out a way to handle him without alienating him. The last thing I wanted was to cause issues with a guy like that. I’d probably be given my walking papers if I did.
Dealing with him was going to be a touchy situation I hadn’t foreseen, but my girls were my priority, not pleasing him. Marnie was going through the exact opposite of what I’d dealt with as a kid. As a girl, my father had very low expectations for my hockey career and focused mainly on the boys. I’d be constantly striving for his attention and approval. In that manner, Marnie and I were a lot alike. Despite my dad’s shortcomings, he was a good guy and praised as well as criticized us. I couldn’t imagine having a father like Boris who only criticized and went so far as to berate her in front of the rest of us. I’d need to defuse his negativity if I wanted to create a comfortable, supportive environment for these girls.
I gathered the team back to center ice, and Marnie gratefully skated over. Keeping her back to her dad, she listened intently. I was a firm believer in pointing out shortcomings but always ending on a positive note regarding what each player did well. My methods were to build confidence while refining and improving on skills.
Our first session was intense and tiring. By the time their hour was up, the girls were dragging. So was I, but I’d never let them see how exhausted I was. I was in good shape, but being on skates for the majority of the day wore a person out.
I bent down to gather up some cones we’d used for maneuverability drills. I skated to the small storage area behind the boards and put them away. The day had been both trying and rewarding, and a nice bubble bath was in order.
“Coach, wait a minute.” The way Boris saidcoachmade it sound like an insult.
“Yes?” I smiled stiffly and skated to the boards where he stood. He didn’t smile back, merely looking me up and down and appearing to find me lacking.
“Where’s Jonas?” He scowled with disdain.
“Jonas has moved on to other coaching responsibilities.”
“So just because these are girls, they get the newbie coach?”
I bristled. “I assure you, Mr. Spechek, I’m quite qualified to coach every level in our youth program.”
“I don’t see you coaching any elite male players. That tells me all I need to know.” He arched a brow and made his disbelief more than obvious. He was right to doubt what I was saying. Even if I wanted the equity to be true among coaches, so far, it wasn’t.
I ignored that question. “If you’d like a list of my credentials, I’d be happy to provide them, or you can look at the Sockeye Youth Program’s website for my bio.”
“I’m well aware of your credentials, but I want my daughter with the best, and you clearly are not, or you’d be coaching elite male players.”
“Are you insinuating that the best coaches are male?”
“Well, aren’t they? I don’t see any women playing in the NHL, do you?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m determined to make Marnie the first.”
“That’s a high aspiration.” I wondered if Marnie shared his goal. “All of us coach different levels, from beginners to elite, regardless of gender,” I repeated myself, refusing to be baited by his question.
“Come on, Ms. Wilder. I’m not being misogynistic, but facts are facts. Men are better hockey players than women from a sheer physical strength standpoint, if nothing else.”
“Perhaps they’re physically stronger, but that doesn’t mean they’re more talented or better teachers.”
