COLE
Brentwood started with a neutral zone drill that had no name and no mercy. Three forwards, two defensemen, full speed through the middle third of the ice. The puck carrier had to beat the trap or turn it over. If you turned it over, you did it again. If you beat the trap, the next group went. If nobody beat the trap in five minutes, the entire team skated suicides until Brentwood got bored of watching.
Nobody beat the trap for the first four minutes. The ice was a war zone. Sticks hacking. Shoulders driving into boards. The crack of body checks echoing off the empty upper bowl. Kowalski flattened a rookie against the glass so hard the plexiglass flexed. Henderson dumped the puck in and chased it like a man whose mortgage depended on retrieving it.
My shift. Dmitri on my right wing.
