Chapter 0488

Enzo

The clatter of hockey sticks and the distinct screech of skates cutting into the ice enveloped me as Tim and I entered the arena. It was a different vibe than what I was used to back in Mountainview-less polished, maybe a little rougher around the edges-but it was hockey, and that was home enough for me.

"As you can see, we're already underway," Tim said, gesturing toward the scrimmage taking place below us. "But I'd like to hear your first impressions. And don't hold back."

We found a decent spot to watch from and settled in. For several minutes, I just observed. The team had heart; that much was evident to me. But they also displayed glaring inadequacies.

Their passes were always just a little too long or a little too short, shots were mistimed, and their defensive formation looked more like a scattering of bodies rather than a cohesive unit. It was immediately clear that they had little chemistry on the ice, unlike my team. But it was fixable.

Tim leaned toward me, his eyes fixed on the game but clearly attuned to my reaction. "So, what do you think? Any initial thoughts?"

breath, I considered my words carefully. "They've got potential but they need a lot of work. The passing is inconsistent, they're either overshooting or hesitating. That's something we'd need to drill in

defensiveness, only an

of them are skating on worn-out blades, and a couple of them have sticks that have seen better

taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hear you, Enzo. But unfortunately, equipment is a difficult issue. Funding's always been tight.

feeling a new sense of resolve forming inside me. "When I come in the fall, I want to hit the ground running. Teams shouldn't be waiting around for random sponsorships or donations to fix basic issues. They should be proactive, fundraising, volunteering, really connecting with the

looked impressed. "You're already thinking about

another look at the players who still seemed like strangers sharing the ice rather

Tim broke into a genuine smile, one

to

phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. "Sorry," he said with a sigh as he stood, "I've got to take

watching Tim's fading form for a few moments before returning my attention to the scrimmage. Already, the gears were turning in my head as to how this team could improve-and how I

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