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I’ve been in the league for like, my whole life.”
    “Sure,” he said, quietly. “It’s just that it’s going to be a big game.”
    “Duh,” I told him, reaching for the chips and wishing Dad would hurry up with the drinks.
    “And if Coach isn’t back —”
    “My dad will handle it,” I told him.
    “Can he?”
    “Can he what?” I asked, turning to look at my friend, whose face was red. I couldn’t tell if it was from being way overheated or from embarrassment. “Can he what?”
    “You know … can he handle prepping us for that game?”
    “Dude, he was almost in the NHL,” I reminded him.
    Kenny nodded, his face even redder. “I know,
almost
, but this is coaching.”
    “He was a ref for ten years.”
    “Yeah, and that’s cool and everything, but I think coaching is … different.”
    I gave him a stare-down. Kenny wasn’t really known for coming up with theories on his own. “
You
think, or
someone else
thinks?”
    He winced. “Well, my dad said —”
    “That he’d rather take over the team for now?” I asked, kind of in his face.
    Mr. Cavanaugh was a hockey fan, but I was pretty sure he’d never actually played, even as a kid.
    “No, because —”
    “Because the only guy I heard offering to help us out was my dad.”
    Kenny definitely looked embarrassed. “I know.”
    “He’s going to do an awesome job, I swear. And don’t get all worked up about playing the Sharks and all that. Dad’s only going to be running a practice or two and then Coach will be back.”
    Kenny nodded. “I know he’ll be good. I’m sorry, Nugget. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “It’s okay,” I told him, handing him the bowl of chips.
    “Sometimes my dad’s kind of a —”
    “It’s okay, Ken. We’re cool.”
    Dad came back into the living room with Cokes for all three of us.
    I was totally stunned that Mum had given in on that one. She was a nutritionist and she was as dedicated to health food as I was to hockey.
    And that was saying something.
    “What did I miss?” Dad asked.
    “Nothing,” I told him. “The commercials just ended.”
    As we sat and watched the game, I thought about what Kenny had said about coaching being different from playing or reffing. I wished his dad hadn’t said anything.
    Of course, Mr. Cavanaugh’s opinion didn’t matter, because I knew Dad was going to be the ultimate substitute coach. And everyone was going to see exactly how cool he was in a few short hours.
    *   *   *
    When my alarm clock went off at five the next morning, I guess I didn’t hear it right away, so I woke up to the sound of Wendy pounding her fist against the wall between us and yelling at me to turn it off.
    Oops.
    Hers wasn’t the kind of boat I wanted to rock at any time of day, but especially early in the morning. She was like an angry rhino at eight, and something even scarier before six.
    I hit the “off” button and jumped out of bed, heading straight for the shower.
    I ran into Dad in the hallway. His hair was crazy and he was rubbing his squinty eyes.
    “Oh, you’re up.” His voice sounded dry and scratchy.
    “Yup,” I nodded.
    “I was just coming to wake you.”
    “I’m awake,” I said, nodding. “I have an alarm clock.”
    “Sure,” Dad said, stretching as he yawned. “While you’re in the shower, I might catch a couple more Z’s.”
    Huh?
    “Um … Mum usually makes breakfast while I’m in there.”
    His eyes bugged. “She does?”
    “Yeah, because we have to leave by five-thirty.”
    “Right,” he said, nodding. “Five-thirty. I’ll get on it.”
    When he disappeared down the stairs, I turned to go into the bathroom. I glanced at my parents’ bedroom door, kind of wishing Mum wasn’t taking a turn sleeping in. I was used to practice mornings being just me and her.
    We had a routine that really worked.
    But maybe me and Dad would, too.
    Once I was in the shower, I relaxed under the hot water and started thinking about how awesome it was