Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

HANSLEY BARDOT

I ’ve never seen a place quite like Rainbow Dorset University. Every time I step on campus, I’m kind of blown away. It’s… wild.

I’m not going to lie—the LGBTQ+ community has never really hit on my radar. There was a gay man on my team before I retired, but we weren’t friends. Not for any other reason than we just didn’t click. He was a good guy and a great player. We just had little in common outside of hockey.

I suppose that I’ve had blinders on most of my life because their plight just didn’t affect me. When Rainbow Dorset approached me about coaching their hockey team, I hadn’t really had a plan for retirement. The only thing I had on the horizon was a summer off, knowing I wasn’t going to head back to the ice next season. That thought wasn’t as relaxing as maybe it should have been.

After a two-hour discussion with the executive team at Rainbow Dorset and listening to them talk about what they’re building and working toward, I realized two things—one, I needed to do some research because I was clearly woefully uneducated about all things LGBTQ+, and two, this is definitely something I wanted to be a part of.

In the weeks that followed, I did a lot of research, and talked to a lot of colleagues who are part of the LGBTQ+ community. I know I made the right decision. I had no idea about the kinds of things they’re up against. The laws and prejudices. The bigotry.

It’s sad that the world is such a disgusting place and sadder still that there are so many people like me who just have no idea because it doesn’t affect them.

This is the first time I’m walking on campus since officially accepting the job and having definitely expanded my knowledge. I recognize a lot of the flags that greet me on my way in. The vibrant colors looked almost garish on their website, but now that I know what they stand for and what I’m seeing, I love the vitality they bring to campus.

They’re a loud announcement to the world that we’re here and we’re not hiding.

I smile as I walk toward my hockey arena. Because I have the only team with its own sporting complex, my office is away from everyone else’s and is where my team will be. The deans offered to give me an office with everyone else in the athletic department in an effort to not create seclusion, but this really makes more sense. It would be rather inconvenient if I had to go to the athletic building every time I needed to meet someone or forgot something in my office.

Believing I’m fairly easy to get along with and have always been told how personable I am, I’m not concerned about making friends. I’m sure I’ll meet plenty of faculty in time.

Besides, my primary focus is building this hockey team into something great. They’ve got the bones and facility. Now we just need the talent and strategy to make it to the Frozen Four.

I’ve had one of those Hallmark movie hockey careers where I accomplished all the things. I was recruited to one of the best university hockey teams where we won the Frozen Four in two of the four years I attended. Then I was drafted to the AHL, where my team won the Calder Cup. I even won a Stanley Cup in my career.

It’s not just about talent but being in the right place at the right time with a team that works hard as fuck all season to get where we want to be is so important. There’s always going to be someone better than you. Someone who has more to prove and more to lose. But with the right drive, determination, team, and skill, that almost doesn’t matter.

It’s your mentality. You can get bitter and angry that there’s always someone better than you and let that stunt your growth, or you can use it as motivation to get better. To be better. To train hard so you can reach a goal.

Today I’m meeting my team for the first time. I’ve spoken to a few over the phone and via email. I’ve also texted with one a few times over the school’s media platform, The Pride Room. There are eighteen returning student athletes from last year and five new players that I thankfully had a hand in choosing.

Over the summer, I spent a lot of time watching last season’s games to familiarize myself with my team and our competition and talking to my assistant coach, who’s been with Rainbow Dorset for a couple years. I’m feeling good about this season, and really good about this new adventure in my life. I’m excited.

From what I can tell, the arena is pretty new. The paint still looks fresh. The boards and netting behind the goals look new. But the biggest hint is that the Zamboni looks brand new, as do the cement floors of the stadium and the paint on them.

Passing the assistant coach’s office, I pause when I find the door ajar and the light on. With a light knock, I ask, “Denis?”

“Yes?” he answers from the other side of the door.

I push it open a little and poke my head in. We’ve only met virtually. Since I retired on the East Coast, it took me a while to get all my affairs in order and find a place out here. So this is our first time meeting too.

But I recognize him easily enough. He’s middle-aged and balding but has a big, friendly smile.

“Coach,” he greets, getting to his feet and offering me his hand. “So glad to finally have you here!”

I’d been nervous about coming into this position with the same assistant coach who’d already been here for previous years, wondering if he’d be bitter about not being offered the head coaching position. From what I’ve seen thus far, he doesn’t seem to be upset about it at all. I’m not sure he wants to be head coach. He’s quite content and happy where he is as an assistant.

“Happy to finally meet you,” I say, taking his hand. “Our kids here yet?”

Denis shakes his head. “I think Seth is, but I’m pretty sure he’d live on the ice if we allowed it.”

“He on the ice?”

He nods. “Yep. He’s good about letting someone know he’s here, but rarely comes back after that unless it’s to say that he’s leaving and he’s the last one out. A courtesy. He’s a good kid.”

“He skating alone?”

Denis smirks. “Last I checked on him, he’s lying on his back with his head under the net, bringing his legs up to reach the top of the goal.”

Goalies are just weird.

“All right.” I chuckle. “I’m going to check on some paperwork and then head to the ice. Want to get the team rounded up when they show up and send them out?”

“Will do,” he agrees. “Seth usually brings a bucket of pucks with him, so there should already be some out there.”

With a nod of thanks, I head to my office. Going into a position that you’ve never done before comes with a lot of learning. It’s not just about all the parts of hockey—mentoring, teaching, coaching. There’s a business side to it I’m woefully unfamiliar with.

For instance, when I was handed a budget for the season. I was especially confused with the very apologetic letter that my funds weren’t as large as most other college hockey teams. Like… what do I need to purchase when I’m just here to coach?!

Thankfully, the previous years’ records were available for me to study. Once I went line by line to determine what everything was and why we needed it, I spoke to Denis about inventory and placed a few orders.

But some things felt like they weren’t necessary to purchase every year. My goal these first few weeks is to see what we need. As games come and we begin to travel, I’ll have a better idea of where I need to spend money and whether the amount I was given is, in fact, low. Seems fine to me, but what do I know?!

I drop my bag and check my email before lacing up my skates and getting a hoodie on. I grab a stick and head toward the ice.

As I walk through the chute and the cold hits me, I smile and breathe it in, closing my eyes for a minute, letting my hand trail on the wall to keep me from falling over. If I’m honest with myself, the dread of never feeling this moment as I come out onto the ice settled as the end of last season approached.

I’d never considered coaching. Had Rainbow Dorset never approached me, I’m not sure it would have crossed my mind at all. I’ve always been the one being coached.

Stopping just off the rink, I watch who can only be Seth on the ice. He’s under the goal still but now on his stomach, his feet within the crease as he uses his stick tucked under his arm like a machine gun. His body shakes as if it’s shooting the goal at the other end.

He pauses, grabs one of the pucks beside him, and flings it down the other end before his body starts vibrating with the pretend shots. I can almost hear the ratatatatat .

Then his body jolts and he groans before rolling onto his side in an awkward twist and sprawls out, unmoving. Amused, I shake my head, grinning.

Goalies really are weird.

I step onto the ice and glide over to him. When I hover just over him, I find his eyes are closed. “Who revives you?” I ask.

Seth’s eyes snap open and he stares at me. Then a grin splits his face. He sits up, shoving his helmet from his head, and gets to his feet. “Hansley Bardot,” he says reverently. Then he clears his throat. “I mean, hi, Coach.”

Chuckling, I incline my head. “Hello, Seth. Are you a zombie now?”

He grins, shrugging. “I’m pretty confident I blew them up first. The puck just exploded too close to me.” He shifts to look around me. I’m half tempted to glance back too, as if there’s something there.

Laughing, I bend and pick up his helmet, offering it to him. “How about you block some shots?”

He sighs. “If I have to.”

Grinning, I gather several pucks with my stick and bring them toward the center of the ice as Seth clears out his crease and gets ready. When I turn, he bends with his hands on his knees and gives me a nod that he’s ready.

For the next ten minutes, I shoot at him as if we’re performing a shootout. He looks equally smug when he stops one of my shots as when I score on him.

Then Leo joins me and it’s two on one. I’m impressed when Seth manages a much higher ratio of stopping our combined shots than he did when we were one-on-one.

Next comes Hakeem, one of our defensemen, who situates himself with Seth. They’re practically a wall now. Our play gets a little more aggressive, a little more serious, as Leo and I attempt to get around both Hakeem and Seth. They block several, but it’s almost a magic moment when Leo manages a score.

Cheers and catcalls come from the chute, and we find the rest of the team there. They spill onto the ice, with Denis taking up the rear. I smile widely in greeting.

“This everyone?” I ask, looking at Denis, who gives me a nod. “Great. Gather around, boys.”

I back up to the three players I’d been playing with and give each of them an affectionate slap on their shoulders, telling them they played well. The grins Seth and Hakeem exchange makes me smile.

“It’s great to finally meet you all,” I start. “I know I’ve corresponded with a few of you and I’ve studied your games via videos all summer so I’m excited to see what you can do in person. My goal this year is the Frozen Four.” The team cheers, hitting their sticks on the ice. “You’ve got a lot of talent, or you wouldn’t be here. We’re going to be working extra hard to hone that talent, expand your skills, and win some games. I want us to prove to everyone that Rainbow Dorset is the team to beat.”

The boys give a barking chant of oooh oooh oooh that has me grinning.

“First, we need some admin talk. Our budget is a little thin and I think we’re in need of some upgrades.” I glance at the half wall surrounding the ice. There are only a handful of logos there. “I think first we need to work on getting some more corporate sponsors.”

“Do they have to be local?” Braxton, another defenseman, asks.

I shake my head. “No. If your parents or family have a company and wants to sponsor, we can definitely make that happen. Generally speaking, it is local companies who sponsor. It looks like our nearest competition is Arizona State. But we need to prove to the rest of the country that California has a team and we’re going to be kicking ass.”

Another round of bark cheers.

“I think we’ll get more after we get to the Frozen Four,” Damari says.

“Yes. Corporate sponsors are something we’ll have to revisit every year. The more we improve and become true competitors within the NCAA division, the more money we’ll be able to bring in from sponsors. However, we need some other ideas. New resources. Fundraising. I know your time is already thin, so let’s think of things that have the potential to bring in big money without excessive effort. Maybe something creative. Thoughts?”

“Before we talk about that,” Hakeem interjects. He pinches his jersey between his finger and thumb. “Is now a good time to petition for a new logo? This one is just… I mean, I love to walk around with a bugle horn on my chest as much as the next guy, but it’s lame, Coach.”

He’s not wrong. It’s a strange cartoony horn at that. If I’m willing to listen to the voices in my head, it looks like someone went on clip art and searched ‘horn,’ then plucked the very first option and called it a logo.

“I’ll look into that,” I concede, nodding. “I’m not sure how set on this the deans are and we might be a little late already to rebrand, but I’ll find out.”

Hakeem grins.

“What about a chain of hearts?” Seth asks. Faces turn to look at him. “We sell a heart for a dollar and people can put names on it. Or a message. And then we hang them somewhere.” He shrugs.

“Good,” I say. “What else?”

“We can ask teachers to sponsor us,” Damari says.

“Or kinda like that, we can get pledge challenges. Gear it toward hockey,” Braxton suggests.

“We can hand write some letters,” Seth offers. Again, he gains everyone’s attention. Seth grins. “You all know how to write, right?”

Leo shoves him, rolling his eyes.

“How about auctioning off dates?” Leo suggests. “Dean Stommer puts on a big festival twice a year on campus. We could auction ourselves off as dates to the highest bidder.”

“Ohhh and make little trading cards or something. Kind of a spoof but with cute, endearing qualities about us as incentive,” Braxton suggests. “Like Seth enjoys playing soldier on the ice when no one’s looking but always dies against his invisible enemy.”

Seth smirks but then shakes his head. “I have a girlfriend.”

“What happened to Danny?” Leo asks.

“Wait—I thought you were with Samson,” Hakeem says.

Seth smirks again. “I also have two boyfriends, though they’d be fine if I did the date thing. Lola would not.”

“What’s the gender-neutral term for ladies’ man?” Damari asks.

I laugh. “Okay, okay. I like all these. We’ll end here, but I’d like at least one idea from each of you emailed to me by the end of the week. For now, let’s get to practice. Time to see what you can do in person.”