Arctic Thunder (16 page)
“Hey, let's play some three-on-three!” David shouted.
The group ran to the lacrosse net and passed out sticks to the first two teams of three that would play. Some of the passes were off and the shots often went wild, but for not having played long they all looked really good. Gwen, in particular, seldom missed a pass unless it was completely wild, and every pass she made was perfect, every catch effortless. When she shot at the net, it was fluid and obvious that she was picking her spots. She wasn't good for a girl. She was just plain good. It was like watching poetry.
The boys laughed their heads off as they tried the moves they had seen earlier on the DVDs at Mike's house. Every so often Mike glanced over at his father when one of his new friends made a good pass or shot. Ben always smiled and nodded. The boys soon tired, but they had one last scrimmage that saw Tommy and Mike zip the ball back and forth so quickly no one could stop them.
Running hard, Tommy cut behind the net. “Ball, ball!” he shouted as he came around the other side.
Mike ripped a hard pass, and as it hit the mesh in Tommy's stick, he left his feet. In full flight he sailed in front of the net horizontal to the floor and popped the ball into the mesh. Landing hard, he rolled onto his back and raised his arms in the air. “Jimmy Quinlan scores!” he shouted.
Mike turned excitedly to see Ben's reaction. “Where did my dad go?” he asked, running over to Victor.
Victor shook his head. “I don't know. After Tommy pretended he could fly, your dad mumbled something under his breath and almost ran out of here.”
Mike glanced at the large door. What had gotten into his father?
H
is parents' voices didn't sound mad. They were animated, excited. Mike dropped his coat onto the floor of the porch and kicked off his boots along with his socks. Muttering to himself, he pulled his socks out of his boots and slipped them back onto his feet. Then he stood for a moment and listened.
“Ben, I know this has you excited, but don't you think you're jumping the gun a little?”
“No, I don't, Jeannie. You didn't see what I saw. These kids are amazing athletes. I mean, they can kick these little fuzzy seal things hanging way above their heads. And you should've seen Mike do this thing called the airplane. And that girl ⦠Gwen. Oh, my God! Does she have hands! They just learned the game, and that Tommy kid scored a diving goal. His body control is astonishing.”
“I know it seems exciting, Ben, but was there a goalie in the net? Were there boards that made the ball bounce back faster than they could react? Was there body contact? I'm not trying to be discouraging, but a team made up of kids who just learned the game â¦?”
Mike stepped around the corner. “Not all of them just learned the game, Mom. They have me.”
“Mike, I don't want you boys to be disappointed,” Jeannie said. “You don't really even have enough players for a full team.”
“Yes, we do! I bet the guys from basketball at school would learn just as fast as Tommy and the rest. There's Mitchell Firth, Tyler Snowshoe, Bobby Vittrekwa, and Billy Greenland for a start. They all do snowshoe races and Dene games and stuff. And I bet one of the goalies who plays hockey would love to do something now that the season's pretty much over.”
Ben nodded with a big grin.
“But it's already April, you two,” Jeannie said. “You'd only have a couple of months before the Baggataway.”
Mike's head snapped around at these words from his mother. “You're talking about taking a team to the Baggataway in St. Albert?” he squeaked.
Ben nodded.
“We'd play against Spencer and Cayln and we'd get killed,” Mike said.
“You see, Ben,” Jeannie said, “the boy knows.
You have to face facts. I know you miss the game, but you can't â”
“From what I saw today, they wouldn't get killed,” Ben insisted. “And so what if they didn't do great this year?” He turned to his son. “Mike, do you remember when you first started to play? The St. Albert teams always got killed when they went to British Columbia.”
Mike nodded solemnly.
“But look at our ⦠the St. Albert teams now. They win and are just as competitive as anyone else. We've got kids here with more pure athletic talent than most southern kids. What a great foundation to start a team and a new sport for Inuvik.”
Jeannie didn't say anything this time. The three grew quiet, all wrestling with their own thoughts.
“Dad's right,” Mike finally said. “These are a great bunch of guys, and I want to do it if they do. I never thought I'd ever say it, but let's kick some St. Albert butt!”
Ben stood and high-fived Mike across the table.
Jeannie sighed. “Why do I even bother?”
* * *
Mike spread the word at school about starting a lacrosse team. Anyone interested was to come to the gym after school when the guys usually practised Arctic Sports. How many people would show up was a total unknown.
Mike sat beside his father on the edge of the stage at one end of the gym. They had been there for fifteen minutes, but it felt like an hour. He absently picked at a crack in the floor covering, trying not to squirm.
Ben glanced at Mike. “You sure everyone knows this is today?”
“Dad, we've only been here fifteen minutes. The guys are going to show up. They already love the game, and I know they'll be here.”
“Do you think anyone else will come to see what it's all about?”
“I talked to the guys at basketball today, and they seemed pretty pumped. Guys get busy, though, so you never know.”
The large main gym doors groaned on their hinges, and they both looked up. Ben held his breath and slowly exhaled as Donnie rushed inside. He waved excitedly and marched over to the stage. “Hey, guys! Boy, am I glad I'm not late.”
Ben smiled, trying not to look too disappointed. “Donnie, I have a form here that you'll need to fill out. Just information on your age, height, weight, medical stuff, and getting permission from your parents.”
A frown creased Donnie's face. “Why do I need to fill out a silly form?” His eyes got larger behind his glasses. “You think I'm here to play lacrosse?” He looked back and forth between Mike and Ben. “I'd die! I'm here to fill the position of manager.”
Ben shrugged and tried not to betray the relief he felt.
“Mike says you guys are planning on playing in a tournament in St. Albert,” Donnie continued. “That's going to take some money. I've done some rough calculations, and I figure with sixteen players, coaches, travel, hotel, and meals we'll need roughly twenty thousand dollars. That means fundraising and corporate sponsorship.”
As he spoke, Donnie became more animated, and his eyes seemed to spill out from around his glasses and expand over his cheeks. Ben drew his lips tightly together, fighting with every fibre in his body not to laugh.
“You're also going to need someone to look after training schedules, practice times, and nutrition.” Donnie raised his hands. “I know, I know. I don't really look like a guy who'd know a lot about nutrition. I'm big-boned, you know.”
Ben grimaced, swallowing hard to maintain control.
“But I've been on the Net studying nutrition for athletes, content and timing of meals varying with the intensity of training and the variability of time between games in a tournament setting. We can provide our team with what I'd call an engineered advantage by building and maintaining their systems at peak performance throughout the entire process.” Donnie finally stopped and grinned at his captive audience of two.
“Don't you just love the big guy, Dad?” Mike said.
Ben nodded. “Welcome to the team, Donnie.” He extended his hand to the huge kid, who almost lunged to clutch Ben's hand in an overenthusiastic shake.
Donnie's jubilation was interrupted by a ruckus at the main entrance to the gym. Both doors flew open as Tommy, David, Mark, Dennis Selamio, and Gwen entered at the same time.
“Hey!” they all shouted at once.
“We're here to sign up,” Mark said as they approached.
Tommy laughed. “But only if we get huge signing bonuses.”
Mike held up his fist. “Oh, I'll give you a bonus, all right.”
Ben handed out forms and pens. Five. With Mike, six. It was a start. Then there was another commotion at the gym doors and six more boys marched through, bellowing greetings to those already present.
“Hey, Bobby!” Mike cried.
Bobby Vittrekwa waved back. “Hey, Mike!”
“We've never seen this lacrosse stuff, but Tommy says it's pretty cool, so we're here to give it a shot.”
“That's fantastic!” Mike said. “This is my dad. Dad, this is Bobby Vittrekwa, Mitchell Firth, Tyler Snowshoe, Billy Greenland, and ⦔ He recognized the other two boys but didn't know their names.
Bobby stepped forward. “This is Ricky Alexie. He's a great hockey player and wins snowshoe races all over the place. He's like the Energizer Bunny. He just keeps going and going and going. This other guy is Grant Bonnetplume. From what Tommy told me I figured you might need a goalie. He's likely the best guy in our league, so he should do a pretty good job in lacrosse.”
Ben shook the boys' hands. “Glad you could all make it. There are forms here for you to sign and take to your parents. Once they sign them, you'll need to bring them back to me. When these other guys are finished with the pens, please fill one out.”
M
ike and his friends had two practices over the next four days. The boys and Gwen didn't have equipment yet, so they dressed in shorts and T-shirts. Between Ben and Mike, they managed to scrounge up nine sticks. Some were old and in rough shape, but for the time being they would have to do. They outfitted Grant in his hockey goalie gear and a pair of the largest hockey shin pads they could buy at the Northern Store. In lacrosse goalies wore shin pads like those of skaters in hockey, but much larger. Grant also had to use a regular lacrosse stick instead of a goalie stick, which had a huge basket and a longer shaft.
Ben outlined a crease around the net with masking tape, which gave the players a feeling for how close they could get. Then he had them take turns with the sticks and ran them through a series of basic, high-tempo drills: shuttle passing, scooping loose balls, placing checks and picks, rudimentary shooting skills, one-on-one battles for loose balls, and one-on-ones with a single player defending the net while the other player attempted to score.
The drills gave the boys and Gwen a chance to learn the basics and also helped Ben gauge the skill level of each player he was working with. In the end, Ben came up with an initial assessment of his players, along with some descriptions to keep track of who his players were.
MIKE WATSON (Right): Only player with game experience. Strong in all aspects. Offensively strongest. However, depending on other players, he might have to take on a more defensive role. Strong, fast, extremely intelligent on the floor, great shot.
TOMMY ALEEKUK (Left): Incredibly athletic. Short for his age and thick like Mike. Short black brush cut, big smile, darkest complexion on team, Inuvialuit. Amazing jumping ability, acrobatic, and tries new stuff. Very quick. Has mastered basic skills and has quickly gained higher knowledge of the finer aspects of the game.
MITCHELL FIRTH (Right): Another great athlete, but only now learning the basics. Average height, Gwich'in, long black rock-star hair. Small scar on chin, lighter skin, slight in build. Shaky skills at this stage, but cool on the floor. Extremely hard to get the ball from. Suspect will be a strong playmaker. Can already see him thinking through the game.
TYLER SNOWSHOE (Left): One of three lefties on team. Medium build, medium black hair, goofy smile, always joking and a little disruptive. Gwich'in. Different coloured eyes! One brown, one blue. Athletic and very aggressive. No equipment yet but loves to hit and is relentless going after the ball. Suspect he'll be a loose-ball vacuum once he masters the game. Skills coming very quickly.
DAVID ELANIK (Right): Tallish player. Light brown hair, quiet guy, very Asian, piercing blue eyes, Inuvialuit. Solid for his height. Struggling with skills but athletic. Medium speed but a thinker. Could be a good shooter if mind for the game continues to develop. With practice might develop like Mitchell as far as ball control.
BOBBY VITTREKWA (Right): Very tall and thin and extremely smooth. Gwich'in. Deceptive speed. Blows by guys when he looks as if he's jogging. Wins faceoffs easily. Has the knack and looks as if he could play point. Another boy with a mind for the game and the athletic ability to back it up.
GWEN THRASHER (Left): The most incredible hands and skill. Inuvialuit. Beautiful kid, but has a bad temper that will need to be kept in check. Already making behind-the-back passes without even thinking. Can switch hands and shoot right without looking awkward. Solid, but it remains to be seen how she'll handle body contact in a real game.
BILLY GREENLAND (Right): Another kid who likes contact even without equipment. Average height and build. Gwich'in. Apparently a good hockey player, but needs to think lacrosse. A bit stubborn but should adjust. Very much a team player, which makes up for other things he lacks. A deceptively hard shot.
MARK KIKOAK (Right): There's strong and then there's strong. This kid is strong! Inuvialuit, with light skin and lots of freckles. Average height but very thick build like Mike's. Impossible to move off the ball. Very, very athletic and fun to be around. Piercing black eyes.
DENNIS SELAMIO (Right): Very polite Inuvialuit boy. Average height and build. White spot in hair on back of his head. Beautiful passer. Not a very strong shot, but every pass is on target and crisp.
RICKY ALEXIE (Right): Thin boy of average height. Gwich'in. Incredible endurance. Very strong work ethic that pushes the rest of the team. Never slows down and seems to love the game. Apparently spends much of his spare time on the land with his uncle and wins every snowshoe or cross-country ski race he enters. A born penalty killer!
