Everyone took a step backward and stared at Donnie.
“Jeez, Donnie, what more could there possibly be?” Bobby asked.
“They have piles of equipment and some kind of boards up at the end, and ⦔ Sensing he was about to be crushed in a stampede, Donnie held up his hands once more. “And Joseph Kiktorak!”
Before anyone else could say anything, Gwen rammed through the crowd of boys to the front. “You're telling us the Walrus, Jimmy Quinlan, a pile of equipment, some type of lacrosse boards, and Joseph Kiktorak are all in the gym? Right here? Right now?”
Placing his hands on his hips, Donnie nodded, obviously pleased with himself.
“This I gotta see!” David Elanik cried, and the mob pushed past and through the doors behind him.
The scene at the far end of the gym was almost too much to fathom. Sure enough, there were temporary boards curved around the end of the gym and halfway up the sides. Todd Lorenz and Jimmy Quinlan were talking to Ben, and Joseph was carefully laying out piles of equipment and sticks. At the sound of the clattering at the gym doors the three men and Joseph glanced up.
Spotting Mike, Todd grinned. “Hey, Mr. Thick, you haven't grown a centimetre.”
“Todd!” Mike shouted, running to shake his hand.
The rest of the gang followed and gathered around where the men and Joseph were standing.
“Guys ⦠and Gwen,” Ben said, “I'd like you to meet Todd Lorenz and Jimmy Quinlan. The Edmonton Rush, along with the National Lacrosse League, were nice enough to sponsor all of this equipment.” He motioned to the piles scattered around them. “Todd and Jimmy were also nice enough to bring this stuff up here so they could put a clinic on for you guys at the same time.”
“Mr. Lorenz, it's so unreal to meet you,” Donnie gushed as he stepped forward. “I've studied all of your statistics. It's my belief that winning all those championships as a player-coach is one of the greatest sporting achievements on record.”
“Mr. Lorenz?”
Todd said, raising an eyebrow “I thought I was the Walrus.”
Donnie's eyes practically left his head, and Todd laughed. In a few moments he was joined by everyone else in the hilarity.
“I hear some of you guys are pretty hot lacrosse players,” Jimmy Quinlan said.
“In fact, I hear a guy named Tommy's trying to steal my job with the Rush.”
Tommy blushed when everyone looked in his direction.
“I'm going to keep an eye on you, man,” Jimmy added, pointing his stick at Tommy.
“Guys, we have to thank Victor Allen and a lot of volunteers who helped put these temporary boards together for us,” Ben said. “Principal Dodson has agreed that we can keep these boards up until we leave for the Baggataway in June. That's just over a month, so we better thank him every chance we get. The boards have enough support and backing to give us some decent bounces and a feel for what it's like to get hammered a bit. There's going to be a lot of contact in this tournament, so we have to get used to it right away.” Ben glanced at Joseph. “Joseph here is going to help us over the next few weeks as we get ready for the tournament. He's been nice enough to volunteer to help with water and equipment and all that stuff.”
The group grew quiet as they watched Joseph neatly place one last pile of equipment. Straightening to his full height, he scowled at the boys. Then, with a trace of a smile, he waved before silently going back to his work.
“I've never seen the Monster smile before,” Donnie whispered to Mike, who quickly elbowed him in the ribs and shot him an exasperated look.
“Okay, boys,” Ben said, “let's get our equipment on and get busy. If you need help figuring anything out, ask Mike, Todd, Jimmy, or myself.”
With a babble of excitement the boys hustled over to clumps of equipment and started the mystifying task of putting the stuff on for the first time in their lives. Todd, Jimmy, and Ben chuckled as the boys made some pretty big mistakes pulling on the kidney pads and other protection. Ben spied Joseph sitting near the stage, watching the other boys. He seemed a bit lost and not certain what to do.
“Hey, Joseph!” Ben called.
The big boy looked up.
“Why don't you put on the gear and give it a try?”
Joseph shook his head.
“Well, if you change your mind, you're welcome to join in,” Ben said.
Once the boys had everything on in the right places, Todd and Jimmy went to work.
“Okay, gentlemen, let's see what you've got. Ben, get them to run some of the drills you've been working on so Jimmy and I can see what we're working with.”
Ben had the boys do shuttle passes, breakouts, shooting drills, and loose-ball battles. With the equipment on, the intensity and contact picked up immediately. Jimmy and Todd stood back with Ben and watched.
Jimmy shook his head. “These kids are way ahead of where I thought they'd be.”
Ben nodded. “Most of them are pretty gifted athletes. They do events called Arctic Sports that you wouldn't believe. That kid Tommy â” Ben motioned in Tommy's direction “â can jump in the air and kick a little stuffed seal way above his head and then land back on the foot he kicked it with. Mark over there is one of the strongest kids I've ever seen.”
“You can see it when he gets in the corner after the ball,” Todd said.
Jimmy nodded at the net. “My God, Ben! That girl ⦠Gwen, is it? She has the most amazing hands. Watch this, watch this!”
As Jimmy spoke, Gwen calmly scooped up the ball and faked Mike out of his shoes. Cutting across in front of Grant in the net, she flipped a pass back over her shoulder that hit dead centre in the mesh of Mitchell's stick. It surprised him, and after a quick glance into his basket, he easily plopped the ball into the open side of the net.
“
Whoooooo!
Way to go!” Todd yelled, holding his arms above his head. “Okay, folks, let's start some serious hitting.”
The next part of the practice was fast and furious. Once the players got rid of the urge to lunge at each other and flail all over the place, they learned quickly how to administer solid body contact, and the three coaches stood back in amazement.
“These kids are truly amazing,” Jimmy said. “They learn so fast it's unreal.”
David Elanik, who was jogging by, suddenly stopped. “My dad says that aboriginal people learn best by watching. For years before we went to schools and stuff, we depended on being observers of the land, animals, and our elders. To this day you show us how to do something and we'll learn it right away.” He shrugged and joined the other players in line beside the net.
Todd was a fantastic teacher, and the players loved him. He had an easy, likable manner that endeared him to the kids in minutes. Jimmy was much the same way and made the players feel comfortable and eager to learn. As the practice wound down, Ben called everybody to the centre of the gym and had them kneel around Todd and Jimmy.
While Jimmy went over some last-minute advice on the two pick plays they had shown the players, Todd nudged Ben with his elbow and nodded over the players' heads at the net. Ben followed Todd's gaze and spotted Joseph holding one of the lacrosse sticks gently in his hands. He turned it over and over, running his hand along the shaft. Walking slowly, he approached one of the balls lying on the floor and deftly scooped it up. Rotating his wrists, he moved the basket back and forth, cradling the ball as he strode away from the net. Halting, he turned and stared at the net. Quickly moving the stick up and down, he flipped the ball into the air and caught it a few times.
By now the players had caught on and were watching Joseph, too, as he continued to juggle the ball. Suddenly, he reared back and fired the ball at the net. Like a laser beam, it ripped with incredible velocity into the top corner of the net, bulging the twine and making a
fwooosh!
sound that echoed throughout the gym.
“Whooooooo!”
Todd shouted as the players gasped.
“Holy crap!” Jimmy said. “You guys are trying to beat me out of a job. That was harder than any shot I've ever made.”
Joseph looked at all the awed faces. “If it's okay, I'd like to join the team.” He turned the lacrosse stick in his hands. “This feels right.”
A
fter the visit from Todd and Jimmy, the team grew even closer. The players went to school together, practised together, and hung out together. Everyone got along, something that would be very important when they travelled south.
The tournament was only a few weeks away. The weather and daylight had made a dramatic shift from March when the Watsons first arrived. The temperature was above or close to zero every day now. In March they had at best experienced nine to ten hours of sunlight. Now there was more than eighteen. By June they would have twenty-four hours.
Donnie, in his usual wide-eyed fashion, informed Mike that in January when Inuvik experienced zero hours of daylight, New York had just over nine hours.
In March when Inuvik had almost ten hours of daylight, New York had eleven. But in June when Inuvik had twenty-four hours of daylight, New York only had a bit under fifteen. He claimed that if you added it all up, Inuvik was a much sunnier place. Mike had learned not to doubt things said by Donnie and could only nod with interest when he told him all this stuff.
And the light was intense! It shone brightly every morning, and the town's spirits seemed to lift higher with the increasing warmth. Each day the snow shrank and the river ice began to break up. Apparently, it had already broken at Tsiigehtchic, and Inuvik's time couldn't be far off. Victor had promised that before the team left for the tournament he would take the players by boat to his camp for a send-off celebration.
Mike revelled in the competition and camaraderie as he went up against Joseph or Gwen in practice. They would hammer at one another and have the most extreme confrontations, but it would always end in laughter and a lot of good-natured fooling around on the floor. Donnie's eyes almost crossed one day, too, when he walked past Joseph and the huge kid reached out and playfully messed his hair. The Monster had been tamed!
What at first seemed like a major disaster, however, took place at one of the team's last practices before they were scheduled to leave town. Grant had been growing in confidence between the pipes but hadn't adjusted as quickly to lacrosse as Ben had hoped. He was getting better but was still the one weak spot on the team. A good goalie made a huge difference in lacrosse, and not having Grant adapt to the position hurt the team's chances of having a decent showing at the tournament.
Each practice session had several shootouts as a fun break from the more intense drills. The shootout continued until only one player was left. Tommy, Gwen, Joseph, and Mike were the last ones on this particular occasion. Mike rushed in first and tried a fancy bounce shot between his legs that failed miserably. Gwen went next. Crossing in front of the net, she faked a shot before deftly whipping the ball back over her shoulder, rippling the mesh behind Grant. The rest of the team cheered wildly. Joseph jogged toward the net, then unexpectedly reared back and rifled a long-distance shot as hard as he could. It caught Grant by surprise, and for some reason, despite all of the practice, he tried to catch the ball with his free hand hockey style. Big mistake! Lacrosse goalies didn't have a catching mitt like those of hockey goalies. They had two gloves pretty much the same as players who ran the floor, and there wasn't much padding in the palm.
Grant's cry of pain echoed off the gym walls as he threw his gloves into the air and fell to his knees, holding his injured hand close to his chest. Ben and Victor, who had been watching the practice, raced over and knelt beside Grant, examining his hand as the team crowded around.
Ben turned ashen-faced to Victor and whispered, “Vic, I think he has at least two broken fingers.”
“You stay with the boys, Ben,” Victor said. “Let me take him to the hospital. You finish what you started here while I take care of the boy.”
Ben nodded and got to his feet. “Boys, stand back and give Mr. Allen and Grant room. We're going to get Grant to the hospital to get him checked out, but the rest of you need to finish practice.”
The team solemnly stepped back as Victor helped Grant out of his equipment and hurried him off to the hospital. Everyone stood in a daze for a few moments, not really quite sure what to do.
“Dad, what are we going to do for the rest of the practice?” Mike asked. “Today you said we were going to pretty much concentrate on shooting. Now we don't have a goalie. Jeez, if Grant's hurt bad we might not even have a goalie for the tournament.”
Ben held up his hand for Mike and the rest of the players to listen. “Let's not get carried away until we know for sure how hurt Grant is. For the moment what we need is somebody to stand in for Grant.”
Ben looked at his players, and they returned his stare. Gwen elbowed Mike, and he nodded, then glanced at the stage. Soon everybody's attention, including Ben's, was focused where Donnie sat mulling over shooting percentages and other statistics.
Glancing up at the team when he noticed the sudden silence, Donnie realized the whole team was watching him. His cheeks flushing, he cried in exasperation, “I didn't fart!”
A few of the players snickered as Ben approached Donnie. “Nobody says you farted Donnie. You're an important part of this team. And being a member of the team, you can be called upon to do different things depending on the situation. As of this minute, we have a different situation. We need a warm body in the net.”
“Oh, n-no, n-no!” Donnie stuttered. “I'm not a warm body. I'm not much of a body at all. I saw what happened to Grant, and I don't want to die.” He pointed at the team. “I won't let them kill me!”
Ben placed a hand on Donnie's shoulder reassuringly, then looked at the rest of the team. “If Donnie goes in the net, anybody who hits him hard with the ball has to sit out for five minutes. In other words, he stands there with the equipment on and you guys pick the corners around him. He doesn't have to move and he doesn't have to be afraid of one of you smacking him with the ball. Got it?” Everyone nodded, and Ben turned back to Donnie. “See, big guy? Everybody's behind you on this. We need you for this one practice. Can you do it?”