Carried Away

Regardless, I cannot pass up the opportunity. This article practically writes itself. Fallen Hockey God Finds Redemption Helping Kids? I literally cannot come up with a better human interest piece if I tried.

It’s perfect for my article, and if I get a couple of cool candid shots I can post them on The Gazette Instagram account and Facebook page. Heck, maybe even Twitter to drive some traffic.

Inside the arena, the chill in the air makes me turtle my neck into my coat. Down below, the rink is swarming with small bodies outfitted in hockey gear. They seem to be skating in a haphazard pattern. Some taking shots on goal, some defending. I know close to nothing about the rules of hockey so I brushed up for this visit. That’s not saying much, though.

In the middle of all this organized chaos, Turner stands tall on his skates, a whistle hanging from his neck, expression wolfish as he surveys his flock. On bare feet he’s formidable, on skates he looks downright scary.

Good news, his ankle seems to be fine.

I walk down the stairs and sit behind the penalty box. Spotting me, he does a subtle double-take, confirming that Gray didn’t tell him who was covering the story when he booked the appointment.

He skates over to the railing in one fluid motion. “You’re with the Gazette?” I nod and give him a tight, apologetic smile. “So you’re doing the story…”

It’s not really a question. Although judging from the way he’s examining me, he doesn’t seem upset by it.

“I won’t get in your way and any questions I have I can ask when you’re done.”

“I don’t mind questions as long as the story stays local.”

Turner nods and skates away, back to the group of boys of various heights and sizes, all of whom are watching me curiously.

Blowing his whistle, he directs the boys to split up into groups and begin a series of drills. It’s immediately apparent that not all of them are at the same level of play. One in particular, a rather heavier one, is having trouble with a sprint drill.

I watch, transfixed, as Turner skates up to him and tips his head down, murmuring something to the seemingly frustrated boy while the others smack talk. Pulling out my phone, I snap away.

A few close ups of man and boy in deep conversation. Some of the other kids laughing. Turner eventually reprimands the group carrying on, and pats the heavy boy on the shoulder.

Holy crap. I did not see this coming at all. I’m shocked. Absolutely flabbergasted at how easily Jake Turner, aptly named Scrooge by yours truly, communicates with these kids. And it’s obvious they worship him in return. One look at their faces and you can tell they are hanging on his every word.

The drills start again and Turner skates around to each groups, issuing corrections and praising what they’re doing correctly. The heavy boy is playing one-on-one defense, and when his opponent makes a break for the goal, he body checks him to the hard cold ground.

Peals of little boy laughter ring out through the arena. Jake skates over to the boy on the ground and helps him to his feet. He looks to be unharmed. Other than maybe a bruise to his pride.

But most of my attention is elsewhere, to the dark haired man calmly and quietly explaining the correct technique of playing defense.

Turner is sweet with them….would you look at that.

I guess I expected him to be overbearing and strict. A hard-ass. But he’s just the opposite. From this vantage point, there’s hard evidence to believe that Jake Turner is a good man in disguise.

“Subject is not a total prick. I repeat, subject is not a total prick. Rescues evil cats from trees and coaches young boys with a soft touch.”

He skates backward, out of the way of the boys practicing, and blows his whistle. The boys line up, start taking shots on goal, and I start snapping pictures again.

He’s graceful on those thin double blades. For man his size, I didn’t expect him be so…elegant? Sensual? Erotic?

I guess the best way to describe him is erotic. Never thought I’d use that word to describe how someone skates but here you have it. Jake Turner is an erotic skater. Which obviously leads me to wonder what else he does this well.

Turner looks over his shoulder at me, and I automatically grin and wave because I’m a goober like that. He frowns, but I don’t let it get me down. Not even a little.

“Nice try, pal. I’m on to you.”

There’s something deeply satisfying about discovering someone whom I thought was a self-centered ogre is actually a good person. Damn sure beats finding out the opposite.

While the boys carry on with their drills, Jake skates over to me and leans back against the railing to face the action.