[legendsport]

November 2, 1935: Detroit, MI:

Jack Barrell looked at the clock and blew his whistle.

"That's it, guys!" he shouted as he skated towards center ice. "Good practice everyone. Don't forgot... same time tomorrow!"

Jack watched the players as they skated slowly over to the edge of the rink and exited. He was still getting used to these guys. After years in Toronto his familiarity with these players was mainly on the level of seeing them play against the Dukes. Now he was learning about them on a personal level.

He was also getting a close-up look at their skill level, or in many cases, their general lack thereof. This was a far cry from his Dukes teams.

Jack was looking at his goalies as they walked off, heads together, talking when he heard someone shout "Jock!" from behind him.

He turned and saw Junior Connolly leaning on the boards. The practice rink was just a skating rink that Junior had booked for practices. One more contrast with the Dukes who owned their own practice rink. Jack forced a smile onto his face and slowly skated over towards his friend, and now boss.

He skated to a stop and leaned on his stick. Though he was now approaching his 38th birthday, Jack still liked to mix it up with the players at practice. His knees and back couldn't handle the pounding of playing in the NAHC, not anymore, but he was still good for working personally with his guys.

"Junior," he said with a light tone. "What brings you by?"

Junior gave him a keen-eyed look before replying, "I just thought I'd stop in and see how things are going." Then he sighed and added, "Judging by the look on your face... I'd say not all that well."

Jack shook his head. "I'm still getting used to these guys," he said apologetically.

"And they're nowhere near as good as the guys you left back in Toronto, right?"

Jack grimaced, then he looked over his shoulder to make sure all the players were out of ear shot. "Yeah, it's different, that's certain," he said.

Junior rubbed his chin. "Look, I know how competitive you are. Hell, I'm the same way. And we will win a Cup, I promise you." Then he laughed and shook his head. "I know, I know, you don't need to say it," he added.

Jack's grin was genuine now. "I have to hand it to you, Junior. You're always optimistic."

"One thing I learned at an early age from my father," Junior said, "was never let them see you sweat."

Jack laughed. "My pop would probably say, it's ok to know you're going to lose, but you owe it to yourself, your team mates and the game to fight as hard as you can."

Junior nodded and said, "I knew I liked your father even before I met him. I just wish that had been under better circumstances." Junior had only recently met Rufus Barrell for the first time... at Joe Barrell's funeral.

Jack sighed and gave his head a small, sad shake.

Junior slapped him on the shoulder and asked, "So... give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

Jack took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. "Well... on the positive side, I think we'll be solid in goal and on the blue line. So defensively, we should be extremely stout."

"But..." Junior prompted.

Jack tipped his head and his lips compressed into a thin line before he continued, "But... we're going to struggle to score."

Junior looked mildly surprised. "What about Chris Schneider?" he asked.

Jack wanted to be tactful - Schneider had twice scored over thirty goals for the New York Shamrocks, had well over 200 career goals and he was a good guy too. "He looks washed up," Jack said, electing to be brutally honest. "He's 36... almost 37 and he's got a lot of mileage on that body and I can tell you from experience, this game is hard enough when you're feeling great."

Junior frowned. He'd purchased both Schneider and Paul Padula from the Boston Bees back in September - before Jack had arrived. To Jack's practiced eye Schneider looked like he was over the hill and Padula was, at age 28, still rough around the edges because he'd spent most of his time in Boston sitting on the bench. Jack explained this, adding that Padula would have been better served playing minor league hockey the last few seasons.

Junior shook his head and then smiled. "So... our defense is going to be good, huh?"

Jack laughed despite himself. "Yes, it will be. Murphy is pure, solid gold. I know you prefer silver, but don't sell or trade my goalie now."

"Oh, I think I'll abstain from any roster moves without consulting you from here on out, Jack. I hired you for your coaching skill and knowledge of the game and league, not for your good looks."

The two men laughed. Then Junior offered to buy Jack lunch and Jack headed off to grab a shower.

.