The tape around my shin pads is tight—not cutting off circulation, but snug enough to remind me it's there. My superstitions are precise. Left skate first, right skate second. Stick tape job clockwise, never counter. Four taps on each post before warmups. And now, newest in my arsenal of game-day rituals: FaceTime with Tyler. I duck into one of the private treatment rooms and prop my phone against the water bottle on the desk, the PT room buzzing just outside the door with the familiar chaos of pre-game preparations.
My phone screen lights up with Jessica’s name. I'm in my Blades compression shirt and shorts, shoulder pads and jersey waiting neatly on my stall. I accept the call, and Tyler's face fills the screen—too close at first, just a giant eye and part of his nose. He does this on purpose lately because he knows it makes me laugh.
"Daddy! I can't see you!" We both giggle.
"Back up a little, T-Rex. There you go."
He adjusts, and now I can see him properly. He's wearing his mini Blades jersey with my number, hair still wet from his bath, cheeks flushed. He looks just like I did at the same age. It’slike looking at iPhone versions of the Polaroid pictures from my childhood.
"Are you gonna score a goal tonight?" He bounces on what looks like Jessica's couch, the phone wobbling in his small hands.
"I'll try my best. Defensemen don't score that often, remember?"
"But you could! Like when you went whoosh and then bam!" He makes elaborate sound effects, nearly dropping the phone in his excitement.
"Hey, you want to hear more about Captain Rex and the Hockey Dinosaurs?" I ask, continuing the ongoing saga I've been creating for him, story by story.
"YEAH!" Tyler settles instantly, eyes wide. "Did they beat the mean Shark-o-saurus?"
I shift on the table, finding a comfortable position. "Well, Captain Rex and his team of Hockey-Raptors were practicing their power play when Scout-asaurus spotted the Shark-o-saurus team hiding behind the big ice mountain..."
I dive into the tale, making it up as I go. In today's installment, Captain Rex leads his team against their arch-rivals, the Shark-o-saurus team, in the Prehistoric Cup Finals. I include details from real hockey strategy, translated into dinosaur terms. Power plays become "extra chomper advantages." The penalty box is "the time-out cave."
Tyler listens, completely rapt, then interrupts with his own plot twist. "But what if the ice cracks? What if there's HOT LAVA under the ice?"
"Great idea," I say, incorporating his suggestion. "Suddenly, the ice began to crack! Steam rose from the fissures, and Captain Rex roared to his team, 'Hot lava passing drill! Just like we practiced!'"
Tyler giggles, delighted. "And they had to jump over the cracks!"
"Exactly! They had to stick-handle around the steam vents and leap over the hot lava cracks. Scout-asaurus used his long neck to help his teammates cross the widest cracks."
"And then what happened?" Tyler leans so close to the screen that his forehead temporarily blocks his eyes.
I lower my voice dramatically. "The Shark-o-saurus captain tried to cross the biggest crack, but he was too heavy. He started to slip into the lava when?—"
"Captain Rex saved him!" Tyler interrupts, bouncing again.
This surprises me. "Even though they're rivals?"
"Yeah! 'Cause Captain Rex is the goodest dinosaur. He helps everybody, even shark guys."
I have to swallow hard. "You're right, T-Rex. That's exactly what happened. Captain Rex reached out his tiny arms?—"
"Which are actually super strong!"
"Super strong," I agree. "And he pulled Shark-o-saurus to safety. And you know what? After that, they decided to stop being enemies and play hockey together instead of against each other."
Tyler's face lights up. "And they had ice cream after!"
"Definitely ice cream. Prehistoric flavors like mammoth milk and berry blast."
An equipment manager taps his watch at me—sixty minutes to puck drop. I nod acknowledgment.
"Daddy has to go to work soon, buddy," I say gently.
Tyler's expression falls slightly, then brightens again. "But you'll win and then you'll tell me about it tomorrow?"
"Win or lose, I'll definitely tell you about it tomorrow. I promise."
