“Ruinsky! My office!” I hear coach yell. He yelled at me more today during practice than ever before, and I wish I could say it is just because he’s in a bad mood. In fairness, he is always in a bad mood, so, it must be the fact I am playing like shit that’s the problem.

As I walk towards his office, Rook “oohs” and “ahs” like a child, but I don’t have it in me to flip him off. Luckily, I have Edge who is more than willing to do the honour for me.

“Hey coach, what’s up?” I try to avoid going in, I just lean on the side of the door frame like a scared little boy, but I don’t want to be yelled at right now. Coach’s thick brows are furrowed as he stares me down.

Coach Mitch is a great man. He loves the game and he loves his players. Most of the time. He knows his stuff and he is not the type of man to butt in with our personal lives unless it starts to affect the game.

“Don’t play dumb, Ruin. What’s gotten into you?” His voice remains stern. Giving into the tone, I sulk all the way into the room flopping onto the chair facing him.

“Just not on it today I guess,” I reply limply. It’s a shitty excuse but it is worth a try. This is the last game of our season, so I know he’ll give me no grace.

Some would think that because this game doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of the NHL he would let it go, but that is not Coach Mitch’s style. He wants to win, go out on a bang, show the other teams that we are a solid team that just had bad luck this go around.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness.” He is trying to get under my skin. Rile me up. “I didn’t realise players got a pass because they don’t want to do their job properly.”

“Coach, look…” I can smooth this over. Say I have a pulled muscle or some other bullshit he might buy.

Coach’s demeanour softens by only a short margin before he continues, “I know son, being here when you want to be there hurts. I know that first-hand, but you can’t let everyone else down because of it.”

My excuses weren’t working, so I give in to his way. “What do I do?” I ask.