Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,64

down to the ice, where it seemed practice was just about to begin.

The children on the ice, all five-and six-year-olds, the youngest classification, as far as Daniel knew, looked tiny and uncoordinated. There were a couple of adults out there with them, one busy showing a few players hand positioning on their sticks. The other, who’d been running a few other players through practice shots, spotted Demetrius and waved.

Demetrius returned the gesture before settling down on the bench to exchange his trainers for skates.

Daniel did the same and gamely joined Demetrius on the ice when he was done, skating after him toward the dark-haired man who’d waved at them.

“Oh my God,” the guy said, thrusting a hand at Daniel. “It’s really you. Daniel Bellamy.” He blushed and shook his head. “I mean, of course it’s you, it’s not like I thought D was lying when he said you’d be joining us, but—” He cut himself off there, the redness on his face increasing. “Sorry, sorry. Peter Kaminski, nice to meet you.”

Daniel smiled at him. “You too, Peter. No need to apologize.”

“Right. So.” Peter gestured to the woman who was helping the kids with their sticks. “That’s Miranda, she’s my assistant coach.” Miranda gave them a friendly nod but didn’t stop what she was doing to come over. “And, uh...we have some parents who help out from time to time.” He indicated the small crowd sitting in the bleachers, mostly chatting amongst themselves. “But we can certainly use more people who know the game. I mean, it’s simplified at this level, non-checking, and we only play half rink, but still, we’re trying to prepare the kids for the higher classifications, you know, so we try to get them to take it seriously and keep our practices structured and engaging.”

Daniel dipped his head. “Makes sense. What are we working on tonight, then? What can we help with?”

“Well.” Peter glanced over at the kids. “If you’d like to run them through some simple skating drills, that would be great. Pushing, starting, stopping. We have a guide, if that’d be useful.”

“That’d be great.”

“I’ll grab it for you.” Peter skated over to the bench and returned with a comb-bound book, which he handed to Daniel. “As you’ll see, at this stage, it’s all about the fundamentals. We set up stations and each station focuses on a specific skill set. We need to keep them active constantly. Children in this age group are so easily distracted—it’s not the time for speeches or talking game strategy. Our aim is to teach them control, build their confidence. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but before they can really play competitively, all those essential building blocks need to be in place.”

“All right.” Daniel turned to Demetrius. “What do you usually work on with the kids?”

Demetrius shrugged. “Depends which group I’m with. They all practice on different days. Usually, it’s puck handling but I’m down for whatever.”

“Puck handling would be perfect,” Peter said. “We have cones and tires in the equipment room, if you’d like to use any of those. Miranda will work on soccer hands and ball tag, and I’ll set up an exercise station to focus on stance and balance. We’ll spend the first half of our time on the skill stations, and then we’ll have a practice game to finish.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great.” Peter grinned. “Come on, Mr. Bellamy, let’s get you introduced to the kids.”

“It’s just Daniel, please.”

Once introductions were done, Daniel took a quick moment to look over a couple of the practice plans laid out in the book. The first seemed easy enough. He started the kids in his small group on T-pushes and two-foot glides across their zone while he went to the equipment room for some orange cones for the second drill. Each drill lasted seven minutes, and Daniel did his best to make it into a fun competition wherever he could. The kids worked hard, but they were laughing too, and it uplifted him to see it.

By the time the practice game started, Daniel was smiling so hard it almost felt unnatural on his face after spending the last couple of months being miserable whenever he was in an arena.

Demetrius nudged him when they were behind the bench, watching the kids play shifts of three-on-three. “You look happy. I thought this might be good for you.”

“You know, I think it will be. I’ll have to figure out my schedule and tell them when I’m available.”

Demetrius glanced over his shoulder to