As the Puck

The players huddled around their coach. He was like a flame and they became moths around him.

“Now, I know the overhaul has made some nervous, but we’re going to prove that an all-black hockey league with black players, coaches, and owners will survive and thrive,” Coach Pennington said with solemnity.

The players all looked confused?

“What, Coach? You mean they’re taking over the whole league?” Sawyer Corsair asked with vigor.

“It’s in the cards.”

Everyone but Pennington looked surprised.

“It’s not…right,” Canan Dozier said aloud.

“I know,” said Petey Michauex. “This league is mostly white as it is. Let them take it over if they try. We’re going to see them develop their own league all by themselves. To hell with messing with the game.”

The white faces then turned to the only black player, an enforcer named Blane Wasser. He looked up with exasperation.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not leaving this league for anything. If people of my skin color wish to be part of this sport, they’re going to have to bring talent on their own ice.”

The other players roared. Wasser looked around the room and then at the plate glass section of the door. A black man stood there. He looked like a fixture of a time gone back. He then walked away from the door. Wasser rose to his feet.

“Coach, do you mind if I take a moment?”

“Do what you got to do, Wasser. Time is of the essence,” Coach Pennington said.

Wasser had removed his gear from the game and followed the figure or apparition or something down the hallway. He saw the black man turn. He continued following him down the corridor. Wasser thought he had caught up to him but it was not to be. He vanished.