My Hockey Alpha



Enzo

I strode into the rink, the familiar chill of the ice sending a shiver down my spine in an all-too-familiar way. Normally, it was comforting. But today, after my argument with Nina, it felt anything but comforting.

I wished that she would just trust me fully, like she said she did. But I could tell that she still was unsure about Mila, even though it never even crossed my mind to give that woman the time of day.

But as I approached the ice, where the team was already waiting, I shook off those feelings. I was here to train a hockey team, not dwell on petty arguments with my wife.

Practice kicked off, and I ran the guys through the paces-drills, formation exercises, the works. Maybe it was the tension I carried, but I found myself pushing them harder than usual.

*Knees bent!" I bellowed. "Christian, what are you doing? I just told you to flick with your wrists, not your shoulders! The stick is an extension of your arm!*

However, it wasn't long before I noticed that my agitation was nothing compared to the animosity brewing between a couple of players. I saw them trading insults under their breath, shoulders bunched and faces red.

Then it happened. A missed pass, a shove, and suddenly they were on each other like wild animals, sticks thrown aside.

"Fuck you, Jonas!" the other player, Eddie, growled. "I told you to stay off my back like that!"

"Hey, it was your fault!" Jonas hissed. "You're up my ass!*

I had enough.

*STOP!"

The word erupted from me, magnified by the Alpha authority that tingled in the back of my voice. The effect was immediate-total silence enveloped the rink as every player froze, looking up at me with wide eyes.

I skated over to the two instigators, feeling the ice crunch beneath my skates. Gripping their jerseys, I pulled them apart with barely any effort. "Benches. Now. Both of you."

They skated off, heads hung low, and I turned to address the rest of the team, who stared back at me with varying levels of guilt and apprehension.

*Listen up," I began, circling on my skates to command their full attention. "I get that emotions run high, especially in a game as intense as hockey. But what just happened here? This isn't a brawl; it's a sport. A team sport. And if you can't act like a team, then what's the point?"From NôvelDrama.Org.

My eyes scanned over their faces, each one nodding in silent agreement. "You're here to support each other, to lift each other up. Not tear each other down. I've seen teams disintegrate from within because they lost sight of that, and let me tell you, it's not pretty. Infighting, resentment-"

My gaze briefly, involuntarily, darted towards the exit, where the life beyond this rink waited for me-Nina, our unborn child, our life together-and how a simple argument could shake even the strongest of foundations. I swallowed hard, forcing my focus back on the young athletes in front of me.

"Look, if you guys have grievances, there's a time and place for that. It's called communication, not fistfights on the ice. If you can't settle your differences off the rink, what makes you think throwing a few punches will solve anything?"

They all looked sheepishly at one another, and I could see the realization setting in.

*Understand this," I continued, my tone taking on a more samber note. "From now on, if I see any of you fighting- all of you will be punished. Understood?"

"Yes, Coach!" the team echoed back in unison.

As I skated back to my position, I caught sight of Tim standing by the glass. He gave me a thumbs-up, clearly approving of how I had handled the situation.

But even as I acknowledged him with a subtle nod, my mind went back to the argument with Nina. Maybe I was a good coach, maybe I could inspire a team, but what about my most important team-my family?

"Let's take fifteen," I said, glancing at the time to see that it had been two hours of intense training already. "Get some water, some protein, and you two-" I pointed at the two on the bench, "-work it out. Now. I want you back on the ice with everyone else."

As the team skated off the ice, I followed suit, but headed in the opposite direction toward the bleachers to take a breather. I sank down onto one of the benches and loosened my skates, checking my phone. A slight smile came across my face as a picture from Nina popped up in our texts, a selfie of her standing in front of a Van Gogh painting.

Just then, Mila's voice broke through my reverie. "Mind if I join you?"

I glanced up to see her standing there, a smile on her face. After last night, I almost considered turning her down; but I had to be professional. I was at work, not in high school anymore.