I cleared my head.
I hit my stick on the ice.
Lay went to center ice and slid his stick against a puck.
Then he began to pump his legs, coming right for me.
I blocked his best slap shot.
I blocked every shot for the rest of practice.
Coach didn’t say another word to me for the rest of the practice.
Once we were done with that, we ate, then watched film.
And a lot of it.
It officially had turned into a very long day.
Yet the entire time we were there, Alonso lingered.
Pacing, hands in his pockets, watching all of us intently, including Coach.
Coach went through every position and player, showing several plays from the last five games. This was just part of the game. To go back and watch what went wrong and what went right and why. And how to get better at it.
After we were finished with watching film, we were free to go.
Alonso looked right at me and waited for me at the door.
“What do you think, Maverick?” Alonso asked.
“About what, sir?”
“Long day today. Tough practice. Coach riding your ass.”
“It’s how you win,” I said.
Alonso grabbed my left shoulder. “That’s a great answer. It’s a grueling season. And I refuse to have this one slip for a second. It took a lot to get this transition of power to happen without too much speculation.”
“Can’t imagine it,” I said. “I just focus on my job.”
“That’s good. Always know your position and never veer from it. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Alonso patted my back and walked away.
I had no idea what the hell he had just said to me.
Or if that was a warning or a threat when it came to his daughter.
I showered, got changed, and got the hell out of the building.
When I climbed into the back of the SUV, my driver looked at me and smiled.
“Going home, Maverick?”
The easiest answer wasYes.
That’s the word that should have come out of my mouth.
There was one problem though.
Something was on my mind.
I looked at my driver and shook my head.
“I have to make a couple stops first.”