Chapter 1

ONE

Annie

Is it possible to be the most experienced skater on an NHL team and also the least experienced when it comes to hockey? Yep, because that's me, a former competitive figure skater hired as a skating coach for the New York Bears this season.

Excitement rushes through me, tingling in my veins.

I know you're probably thinking NHL players already know how to skate, or they wouldn't be there. Which is true. But there's a lot they can learn to be even better, some of them in particular. And that's my job.

I still can hardly believe this has happened. After I had to give up my competitive figure skating dreams, I taught skating for a couple of years, then coached hockey at a D1 college. But I wanted more. I looked for for an NHL job for a couple of years, and now, finally, I'll be working with the New York Bears. They weren't my first choice and living in New York City wasn't my first choice, but I'll definitely take it. I know it'll be a challenge, but I've always loved a challenge.

It's exciting, but also terrifying.

Right now, day one of training camp, we're in Coach Gary Shipton's office going over who's here at camp man by man. I've been watching video, observing some of the players skating informally, learning my way around the practice facility. I've met the staff and even a few of the players.

"There are fifty-four players on the roster," he tells me. "Thirty forwards, eighteen defensemen, and six goaltenders. We'll want your feedback on all of them, which will help us make some tough decisions in the next couple of weeks to get the roster down to twenty-one to be cap compliant."

I nod. I'm well aware of the pressures of training camp for players—I have five brothers who play in the NHL—and I'm learning about the pressures facing the staff as well. We have to pick the best players and develop the best roster we can to give the team a chance of winning. Which means, winning the Stanley Cup.

Just thinking that gives me goosebumps.

When Gary gets to left winger Logan Coates, my body tenses.

Logan and I have a history. A very brief, intense history which I've never shared with anyone. If that one night was the only thing we shared, I wouldn't be so stressed about working with him. But there's more than that.

A few years ago, Logan badly injured my brother in a game. The fury has faded, mostly. But not my hatred of Logan Coates for what he did to Jensen.

I knew Logan plays for the Bears, of course. Which was one of the reasons the Bears weren't my first choice of team to work for. But he's one player on a whole team and chances are good I won't have to have much to do with him.

Besides, I can't let all that bother me. I'm a professional, here to do a job.

I can do this. I had to develop mental toughness as a young figure skater. It takes a lot of guts to launch yourself in the air over and over, knowing you're going to fall hundreds of times, knowing you're going to be bruised and sore and maybe worse, knowing every time you fail you're going to be frustrated and angry. You can't do that without being gangster.

I was criticized over and over and over, by my coaches—it's their job—and by judges—it's their job, too—and my peers. I had to learn to accept that and learn from it and do better no matter how demoralized and discouraged I felt.

So I can handle dealing with some jerk hockey player. With five brothers, I've done it all my life. Ha.

"Logan's got a lot of drive," Coach Shipton says. "Quick release, soft hands, and he doesn't mess around with the puck."

He doesn't mention Logan's reputation as an enforcer.

"Not a great skater," he continues. "But good at finding open ice. Great shooter."

Not a great skater.

Well, shit.

I mean, I should be happy about that because that's why I'm here—to help these guys skate better. But I'm less than enthusiastic about working with Logan Coates.

I focus on Gary's analysis of each player, making notes on my iPad of things for me to watch for.

Next, Gary takes me into the gym where the players are doing their fitness testing on day one of training camp.

"Guys come to camp in amazing physical condition," he says as we watch vertical jump tests. "Almost all these guys work their asses off all summer."

Again, I know this. I know how my brothers train in the off season. And I can see how fit these athletes are as I watch sprints, pushups, pullups, and more.

After the physicals, we all have lunch. The players head to the lounge and I eat with the coaching staff in the coach's lounge. The Apex Practice Facility in Westchester County, New York is amazing, state of the art with all kinds of amenities. The weight room alone is mind-boggling. I'll be using it myself to stay in shape, now that I don't train eight hours a day.

Then we head to one of the classrooms, set up like a theatre with tiered seating and comfortable chairs. The coaching staff are all at the front of the room, along with the GM, assistant GM, and the new team owners who bought the team at the end of last season. I watch as players file in and find seats, now dressed in street clothes. I catch sight of Logan Coates with his backwards ball cap, and our eyes meet.

His gaze moves over me and a small groove appears between his eyebrows. Those thick eyebrows shoot up as recognition dawns, then draw back down together in a perplexed pucker. His head jerks back.

The play of emotions on his face is almost amusing. I get it, buddy. I'm not happy either.

One of his teammates says something to him and he takes a seat and leans in to listen.

I press my lips together and do a couple of deep, calming breaths.

Tag Heller, one of the new team owners, opens the first team meeting of the season with a welcome back speech for the players. He's relaxed and at ease in front of the players, and I can see they're all listening intently. The other Heller brothers, Jase, Logan (a different Logan), and Matt throw in the odd comment, sometimes joking, sometimes serious. I feel respect for them in the room, which is a good thing

Tag turns things over to Brad Julian, the general manager of the team. He, too, seems to be highly regarded by the players, but I sense there's also respect between Brad and the Hellers. It wouldn't be surprising if the Hellers wanted to fire Brad and hire their own GM, but Brad is still here and it's good to have that consistency for the players.

I keep my focus on Brad and not Logan Coates. Even though I'm so tempted to look at him to see if he's looking at me.

"Last year, our season ended too early," Brad says. "We missed out on the playoffs. At the end of last season we challenged players to think about their training over the summer. How they prepare for games." He takes a swallow of water from a bottle he holds. "We're going to continue on that. We all need to do our part to make that happen. A lot falls on the coaching staff, and we've made some changes to strengthen that. I'll let Gary talk to you about that."

He takes a seat and coach Gary Shipton steps forward.

"Thanks, Brad. I'm really excited about this season. And about this camp. We have some great talent here. Let me just say this: I want to win." He pauses to let that sink in. "I want all of you to want to win. Here at camp, we're going to set the tone right away of how we want to play as a team. I want you to feel free to play in the offensive zone using instinct and letting skill takeover. But we're also going to work on how we defend. Are we going to play man versus man in our zone? How is our battle game looking in the defensive zone? Do we need to engage in some three-on-three battle drills to elevate our commitment?"

He saunters across the small dais. "Here's what you can expect. We're going to practice fast. We're going to move a lot. We won't spend a lot of time at the boards, in fact, we may not even stop during a forty-minute practice. We'll look at special team strategies in video reviews with our fantastic video coach, Cal Crider." Cal waves. "We'll have time before practices to work on our power play. Mike Clark, our goalie coach, likes to work with the guys before practice, too. So get ready to work hard."

He strolls back.

"This year, we want to emphasize more than just physical toughness. We want to emphasize mental toughness."

He looks around. Everyone's rapt.

"And we want to emphasize skills. Basics, but at an elite level. And that's partly why we have some new faces in the coaching team this year. Viktor's still here, of course." He gestures to assistant coach ViktorMeknikov, who grins and lifts a hand. "Some of you have met our new assistant coach, Scott Meyer."

Scott steps forward and lifts a hand.

"I know a couple of you guys worked with Scott back in the Western Hockey League," Gary says. "We also have someone not only new to the team but in a brand new role. Please welcome Annie Bang as our new skating coach."

Lifting a hand, I smile and step forward, acknowledging the smatter of applause.

"For those of you who don't know Annie, she is a champion figure skater. With her partner Ivan Koskov, she won medals for pairs skating in US championships, Skate America, Four Continents Championships, and I could go on. They competed in the Olympics. When she retired from figure skating, she turned first to teaching…"

Hearing those words "retired from figure skating" still gives me that stabbing feeling in my heart. But I keep my smile in place.

"…then to coaching, and most recently worked the last two seasons at Bayard College with their men's and women's D1 hockey teams as skating coach. We're incredibly lucky and happy to have her joining the team here and you'll be getting to know her better as she works with the team on improving our skating skills."

I'm so glad he didn't mention my brothers. I don't want to be defined by them. This is my accomplishment. My career.

I look down at the New York Bears track suit I'm wearing. I did it. I made it to the NHL. Now I just have to show them I belong here.

* * *

The next morning, I'm on the ice with some of the players and the coaching staff. The players are divided into two groups for training camp, with one group on the ice at nine o'clock, the other at eleven. There's a mix of veterans and newbies in each group.

I catch the looks from some of the guys—the smirks, the eyebrow lifts. I've encountered a lot of sexism in my career. As a young figure skater, I had to share the arena with hockey players. They called us figure skaters pretentious divas who took over the sound system and chewed up the ice. They'd snicker at us and cheer every time we fell.

It made me tough. I can handle these guys.

As they skate laps warming up, I join them. I get low into my knees and push harder. I sail past the hockey players, their legs pumping hard, mine barely moving. When the whistle blows and we gather around Gary at the board, I see them exchanging glances. I love the expressions on their faces as they look at me—identical open mouths and bewildered eyes.

I smile.

The coaches get the guys doing drills, barking out commands and blowing their whistles. I stay out of their way to observe. At one point I glide up to big Dman Jake Colman and say, "Hey, Jake. Can I offer a suggestion? Bend your knees a little more going into those turns…it'll help with your edges."

He gives me a look. It's clearly a what-the-fuck-do-you-know look. He's six-five, two hundred twenty-five pounds. I'm five-two, about one ten now. I hold his gaze steadily and nod encouragingly.

He ignores me.

I'm acutely aware of the Heller Brothers watching from a box above the ice. Obviously I want to make a good impression. But if these players ignore me, it looks worse for them than it does for me. I swallow a sigh.

At the end of the first session, as the guys are leaving the ice, Jake skates slowly past me and taps the top of my head. "Good job, little coach."

"Hey!"

He stops and looks over his shoulder at me.

I glare at him. "Yes, I'm short. But do not ever pat me on the head. I am not a child and I will fuck you up."

Jake's mouth drops open.

I smile.

The other guys are biting back laughter and I catch a couple of glances of interest. Including from Logan Coates.