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Coach Alex: Book 1 of the Alaska Aces Hockey Series
Coach Alex: Book 1 of the Alaska Aces Hockey Series
Author: Amelie Mercury

1

Alex 

I wrap a towel around my head, shaking my longer than usual, end-of-season hair and beard, while I try to dry off the sticky mess of gatorade my team dumped over my head as the timer rang declaring our victory.  The Alaska Aces took the Stanley Cup for the very first time in Alaska history and not by easy feat. This team has been through it. Four different owners in the last four years and so much office turnover, it's hard to know who’s working from one week to the next. 

After closing its doors for over a decade, the Aces were re-established when millionaire Stephen Osborne purchased the team just four years ago.  However, his fascination with hockey faded quickly and the team was sold twice the first year and again two years ago.  It is now owned by Frank Holander, a retired Olympic Skier who honestly thought when he purchased it that the two sports would be similar just because they are both considered winter sports. 

What is it the kids say? Shake my damn head. 

At least he had the common sense to realize he was in over his head and hired a decent management and PR team to lead us at the start of this season. Last year, players were traded constantly, which never gave my boys a chance to really learn to play together. It’s not easy to build a team when your players are constantly being traded, due to management’s inability to listen to the reasoning of the coaching team.  This season, I’m glad I put my foot down as the head coach and demanded we give them all a chance before even considering trades.

After four years of coaching this crew, I finally have a stable group of guys who aren't worried every practice about being sent off to another team.  I was able to build a real team, boys that are bonded and trust each other; boys that play together on and off season, that hang out with each other outside of practice.  They know each other's families and rely on each other when needed. That, my friends, is the secret to winning the Stanley Cup. 

Gordon jumps over the locker room bench and clumsily lifts me over his shoulder.  

“All right, all right, put me down now.” 

“Put the old man down, you'll break his hip,” laughs Cameron. The smartass. 

The boys are gathered on the benches, all looking for the wise words of their coach and although I am one of the younger coaches in the league at 46, I'll give them the best that I've got. 

“You guys all know we didn't get here by taking the easy road. The ones who've been with us the longest, you know that this is the first year we've actually been a real team. We worked hard and we can take pride in knowing the sweat and tears that went into earning that cup you're holding was worth it. Im not going to get all old-man sappy on you fuckers, you already know what you mean to me.  You are all my sons and I love each and every one of you. I expect all of you here Monday at nine o’clock sharp to watch video and turn in end of season paperwork. Now go have some fun, just dont do anything stupid. Celebrate boys, you've deserved it!”

“Coach, come on, come out with us!” Cameron yells and the locker room is filled with hoots and hollers. 

“Yeah coach, we can help you find a woman.” 

“Good God, Alfie, like I’d want your help with that.”

The boys continue to razz me.  “Don't try to act all innocent, coach.  We heard stories about you, wildman,” Cameron continues. 

“They called him Pounder,” Chris calls from behind his locker. 

“Where did ya get the nickname, coach?”

Chris calls back, “Cuz he could pound down the drinks.” 

“I heard it was his first wife’s nickname for him and his team found out,” Alfie laughs. 

“Well, anything’s better than ‘Quickie’, I guess” I chuckle as my goalie passes me to get into the shower. 

“Now it's more like Quarter Pounder, though” Gordon deadpans as he walks by me and pats my stomach. Punk. 

What? Sure, I'm not as fit as these boys; I've got twenty years on them but I still work out, just not as much as when I was a player myself.  I’m half tempted to pull my shirt off and show them I still have my rock hard abs but then I remember I found six gray chest hairs yesterday and resist my urge to show them anything. There's no reason I need to compare myself to them, We are two different species. They are the players and I am the coach.  Even with my slightly higher body fat count, I still hold all the power here. 

“That's Coach Anderson to you unless you'd like to run end of season suicides on Monday instead of watching video.” 

“No!” “Yes, sir, Coach Anderson.” “Nope.” “Im outta here” I hear as I walk toward my door.. 

Back in my office, I sit back in my chair and smile.  I think about how far these boys have come, what they have all gone through.  I swear each one of them have had their own struggles and challenges to get where we are tonight.  It's funny how no matter how much you think you have it all planned out,  life throws you curveballs.  I surely didn't think I'd be here when I was their age, but these boys are my family.  I wasn't lying when I said they were my sons and I love each and every one of them.  

There was a time in my life when I was angry that I never got a family or kids of my own but after two failed marriages, that ship has sailed.   I can't really blame anyone except myself.  First go ‘round I just married way too young.  The combination of teenage hormones, sorority parties, and college hockey away-games resulted in nothing but infidelity and regret on both our ends.  I was actually happy to hear last week that she was happily married with a couple kids now.   My second wife just wanted to be married to a hockey player. She was model-gorgeous, probably the best looking woman I've ever seen in the flesh.  However, she was a puck bunny and I should have listened when they sang ‘there you go, oh, you can't make a wife out of a hoe, oh.’  I tried for two years but after my knee injury left me unable to competitively play, she was quick to file for divorce, stating ‘irreconcilable differences.’  She didn’t hesitate to take half my money though. Thanks, Alaska court system. 

But that time of anger and disappointment has passed for me.  I’m on cloud nine. I don't think my life could even get any better than this if I tried. Stanley Cup winners! Shake my damn head. 

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