Chapter 4

(JORDAN)


I was pumped. I was pumped and excited and the adrenaline was screaming through my veins. I was completely 100% focused. This was my game, this was my moment. It was time to show how good I really was. Not to the team, to the fans, or even to the NHL. I wanted to show her. I needed to show her. Her opinion meant so much more to me than I could’ve ever imagined.

As we went out for the pre-game skate, I glanced up to where I knew she was in the stands. I smiled when I saw her looking right back at me. I sent her a wink, and then proceeded to do my usual four laps around our half of the ice. It wasn’t just a random number that I picked; four half-laps is the same as two full laps, which is one plus one. And two ones together is eleven, which is my number. I always did four. Always.

We went back into the dressing room and the first thing I did was send her a text. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist. I was happy she responded quickly, because if Coach had walked in to see me with a cell phone, I would’ve no doubt been benched for the first period.

I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t mess up :P

Don’t mess up. Nice. That was so like her. I put my phone away and looked around the room at my teammates. They were all so different, and yet so alike at the same time. We had the perfect combination of veterans and younglings, of foreigners and natives, of fighters and producers. We had the perfect chemistry of a winning team. I hoped I got to stay here my entire career; there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Sid had his eyes closed. It was time to go. You knew when it was time to go when Sid had his eyes closed. That, and when Geno started humming to himself. I think he hums the Russian National Anthem. It must feel weird to listen to an anthem that isn’t yours every game you play. Then again, I did it too. It always felt great to play a Canadian team, to look down at all the Canadian players on our team and see them singing along to the song that represents our country.

Coach walked in then. He said some things, some things about what we had to do to win, some things to motivate us. I didn’t listen; I didn’t need to. I knew what I had to do. It had been all I was thinking about since I got off the phone with her last night. Sure, I needed to skate, I needed to pass, I needed to shoot. But, above all, I needed to impress her. That was my main goal tonight. That was all the motivation I needed.

“…this is our arena. This is our home. This is where we play. Now let’s go out there and make them wish they’d never come here.” Coach finished, making the guys let out a series of whoops and hollers. We all crowded out of the dressing room at the same time, squeezing ourselves into the small hallway that led us out onto the ice. This was the best part of the pre-game, I found, waiting for them to give us the signal to go. I would always watch Flower and Max, what they did was the perfect mix of adrenaline, excitement and humor. It had all started one game last season or the one before when Flower was just coming back from an injury, and Max probably thought he wasn’t completely focused or something. He marched right over to him and smacked him on the mask, and Flower, obviously, retaliated, and it’s become their infamous ritual ever since. They would just punch and knock each other around a bit and then Max would walk away and we’d go out onto the ice. They do it before every game, and I watch them, silently laughing to myself. They were the picture of friendship, those two. Sure, they had their fights, but after about a day or two they would make up and become inseparable again. It was awesome to see two guys on our team so close like that. Although, it was kind of annoying how they would just talk to each other in French all the time. I know it’s their mother dialect and all, but you can never know what they’re saying about you. And, knowing Max, if they were talking about you, chances were they were probably making fun of you.

“And, here they are, your very own…PITTSBURGH PENGUINS!” the guy on loudspeaker announced, and we piled out onto the ice. It was always the same: the splash of cold air of your face, the wave of incredible noise as the fans welcomed you in, the rush of adrenaline you get from seeing every seat filled. Oh, how I loved being at home.

I wasn’t a starter. It often irritated me how I hardly ever got to start the game. I mean, I was a damn good center, and my line had really been racking up the points lately. But when you’re competing against the likes of Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin for the starting position, it’s not always going to work out in your favor.

The ref blew the whistle. Sid won the face-off and passed it back to Gonch. Gonch skated a couple strides with the puck and then dumped it into the offensive zone, where Billy picked it up. He controlled it in the corner for a few seconds, pulling the defenseman over to him, and then passed it behind the net to an awaiting Sid. Sid quickly sent the puck in front, where Cookie just missed the opportunity to tap it in.

We like to call that the 99 play, named after Wayne Gretzky. Gretzky was amazing behind the net, always creating opportunities for his teammates. Well, he could create opportunities for his teammates just about anywhere on the ice, but we weren’t about to go and duplicate that. Becoming the greatest hockey player in the world takes time. At least, it does for most people. Sid seemed to have it down flat before he even came into the NHL.

A Montreal forward picked it up and brought it down into our zone and managed to get a wrist-shot on the net. Flower snatched it out of the air with ease and the whistle blew, stopping the play. The next lines jumped onto the ice, and I slid down the bench. Geno lost the face-off this time, and the puck was pushed back to the blue-line where a Montreal defense ripped a one-timer. The tipped off Kris before it got to the net and almost bounced over Flower’s out-stretched pad. Luckily, he just managed to get a piece of it, and pounced on the rebound. A Montreal guy tried to get the puck out from under his glove after the whistle, drawing himself a penalty.

“Teddy, Rupp, Gronk,” Coach said, patting me on the shoulder. I jumped over the bench and skated over for the face-off. I took in where all the red guys were positioned, and hit Kris’s shin-pad with my stick, letting him know the puck would be coming to him. I bent over, eyes locked on the round piece of rubber in the ref’s hand. Everything went silent, and the ref dropped the puck. I moved my stick forward under the bounce and pulled it back, just catching it on its side. I pushed it between my legs and busted to the net, not bothering to look back to see where the play was. I stood in front of the goalie, screening him, and looked up just in time to see Kris pass it cross-ice along the blue-line to Brooks who riffled a shot at the net. I tried to get in position to get my stick on it, but the goalie pushed me from behind and I stumbled forward. I turned around to retaliate but a wall of Canadiens blocked my path.

“Lay off, easy,” one of them said, shoving me in the chest. Another guy said something in French, too fast for me to understand. I was about to turn around and skate away, knowing that we had a power-play and that there was no need for a fight, when Max jumped in front of me, yelling in French. He pushed my attacker forward and got him in a headlock, trapping him against the boards, still yelling at him in words that I couldn’t understand. A bunch of guys from both of our teams came over, trying to break them up, but they just ended up fighting amongst each other, breaking off into about three separate fights. Max had two guys on him now, and I joined in, coming to the defense of my friend who, I’m guessing, had come to my defense a few seconds ago.

Eventually, the refs managed to break everything up and sent Max and a Montreal guy to the box. After his penalty was up and I was sitting next to him on the bench, I asked him what the French guy had said to me before.
“Oh man, I can’t tell you that. Your ears are much too young for that kind of language,” He answered, laughing, his face glowing. He was always jubilant after a good throw-down.





We ended the first scoreless, much to my dismay. Obviously, Coach wasn’t too thrilled about it either, considering the yelling we got in the dressing room. It didn’t make things any better that we got scored against right at the beginning of the second. But I was determined to up my game. I got a couple shots on net, attempting to tie it up, but Geno beat me to it. And then so did TK. Come third period, I was desperate for a point. The opportunity finally presented itself when Kris skated the puck into the opposing zone. Feds was at the net so I took the empty spot, holding the line. I saw a wall of three shot-blockers in Gonch’s shooting path, so I yelled at him. He threw it my way, and I lifted my stick and took a swing before the wall could react and move to my side. I didn’t see it go in, but I took the hint when Kris jumped on me, screaming at the top of his lungs. What a guy.

I knew I would be one of the heroes in the dressing room. Getting the cushion goal was always a prized place to be. I was immediately bombarded by reporters, and though I hated answering all those stupid questions over and over again with the same three lines we were only allowed to use, I couldn’t help but feel a little special. I sneaked a glance at Sid across the room, who had about twice as many reporters scattered around him as I did. He didn’t even get a point, for God’s sake! I sighed. I catch a fish, he wrestles a shark.

After a few questions, I noticed Al standing awkwardly in the back of the room. My heart thumped loudly and I motioned for her to come over, sending the obnoxious reporters away. She looked around her, and then quickly made her way through the mass of people crowding the room. No one seemed to notice her being there, all except for Max of course, who had had his eyes on this new piece of meat ever since she had come in. The moment he caught my eye I glared at him, catching him by surprise. He put two and two together before realizing that this was not someone he could take advantage of. Despite looking somewhat put-down, he gave me a devilish grin from across the room. He knew this girl was reserved.

My incredibly loud heart skipped a beat when she sat down next to me in the small space of my stall. We said hello before I noticed for the first time someone standing beside her. Al introduced her as Kayleigh, but I didn’t have time to be polite before Brooks showed up out of mid-air and whisked her away. I have to say; that guy could have impeccable timing.

“Thanks for that encouraging text before the game by the way,” I told Al. It had actually given me quite a laugh and had put me a good mood before I had to go onto the ice, so, despite being completely 100% un-inspiring, it had in fact done a bit of good.
“What? I thought it was motivating,” she replied, continuing the joke. Hearing her laugh made my heartbeat increase even more. Jesus Christ, this woman was incredible.

It was then that I decided to have a little fun of my own. I took off my sweaty jersey and shoulder pads, leaving me in just my under-armor. I made sure to flex my muscles as I leaned over her, maybe a bit too close, as I hung up my jersey on the hook. The look on her face let me know that I had done to her exactly what I had intended to, and made my insides squirm with satisfaction. I thought about showing her a little bit more of me, but quickly erased that from my mind. I always abide by waiting until after at least the first date before getting naked in front of a girl. Well, unless we’re talking about girls from clubs. One-night-stands are always exceptions. And I mean to every rule.

While she was turned away I snuck a sniff at my armpits, and recoiled away in disgust. I needed a shower, and a good one at that, especially if I was going to be spending the rest of the evening with her like I planned to. I grabbed my shampoo and soap from the shelf and made my way into the showers. Max stopped me at the doors, TK by his side.
“Is that Al?” TK asked me, nodding towards her. “She’s hot.”
“Dude, you told him?” I asked Max, hitting him upside the head. He shied away from me and threw his arms up around his face, protecting himself from further pain.
“Sorry, man, I had to. He talked me into a corner.”
“I like to think of myself as somewhat of a conversational wizard,” TK said proudly. I ignored him.
“Who else have you told?” I asked Max.
“No one, I swear!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. I saw right through him. Max had never been great at lying.
“Flower?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He admitted.
“And Kris?” I asked.
“Kris too.” He told me, nodding, not seeming the slightest bit guilty.
“Goddamn Frenchmen,” I muttered. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“You’re a pig.”
“But a lovable one.” He said, smiling. I shook my head at him and turned to walk away, before remembering something.
“Hey.” I said.
“Hmm?” he responded.
“Don’t go all…Max on her.” I said.
“However do you mean?” he asked me, smirking. He knew that I knew that he knew exactly what I meant. He just enjoyed playing with our minds.
“You know. Don’t like…provoke her.” I said. He laughed.
“You got it, my man. Wouldn’t even think of it.” I shook my head again as I walked away. He was definitely going to provoke her, no question.
I tried to take my time in the shower, but I found myself wanting to not keep her waiting so I sped things up a bit. Kris noticed this and felt the need to voice his thoughts out loud.
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
“Stop watching me shower,” I snapped at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then just shrugged and moved to a head further away from mine. Sometimes I really wished the showers were private in here. I saw so much more of these guys than I wanted to.

I quickly finished up and dried myself off. I turned to the rack for my clothes, only to find it empty.
Ah, shit.