The next day Coach Whit Chandler called Coach Ray Reynolds, the coach of the juvenile division. Whit was aware of Reynold’s reputation for leading his teams to the top of their division. Although he didn’t particularly like the juvenile’s coach, Whit respected his success and was willing to ask for Reynold’s help.
“Hi, Ray. This is Whit Chandler. How are you?”
“Good. To what do I owe this honor?” Coach Reynolds asked in his usual gruff voice.
“I need your advice Ray. I don’t know what to do about my goaltending situation,” Whit said.
“Yeah, if I was you I’d be feeling the heat too. I was at your game last night and saw that you tried using a different goalie.”
“Man, that turned out to be a disaster, but I was desperate. Rick Miller just hasn’t been cutting it as our goalie. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“I agree with you that Rick Miller has far too many weaknesses as a goalie, but I like the kid. He has guts. I watched another one of your games in which Miller took a powerful slap shot to the shoulder. It must have hurt like hell, but Miller sucked it up and stayed in the game. That indicates to me that Rick is a real man. If I was you, Chandler, I’d stick with Miller in goal. The kid needs some help though. I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do for you. If you can book some ice time at the St. Vital arena, I’d be willing to teach Rick some new skills. I’ll also bring along my number one goalie, Brent Peterson to help show Miller some techniques that he has mastered.”
“Consider it done. I really appreciate this Ray. I owe you a few drinks for this one. I’ll phone the arena right now to book some ice time.