I find that on this new plane where only the parameters that Ren set in place who exists, I can enjoy hockey again. I can lose myself in it. Even when I let in two goals, I don’t come down onmyself knowing that someone is out there who will be angry with me. Someone who will criticize everything about me and the way I played.
It’s just us. Just hockey. And in those moments, I not only find my love for hockey again, I might have found that some of that love has shifted to Ren Ho. It might be a new development, but for some reason, it feels like that love has belonged to him all along.
SEVENTEEN
REN
Keepingan eye on Felton throughout the game is difficult. One puck gets by him halfway through the first period and I can see the sting in his eyes. The way his lips purse together. We answer that point with one of our own almost right away, which seems to help bring his spirits up.
A few minutes into the second period, another gets by him, and I can tell he’s getting frazzled. As soon as I can get back on the ice and there’s a window to approach him, I do. Gripping his mask, I can see the doubt and storm clouds in his dark eyes.
“What did I tell you, Fel?”
He takes a breath. “Me, you, our team, and hockey.”
“Very good. Everything else is just noise. Tune it out, Felton.You got this!I know you do.”
Felton visibly relaxes in my hold and nods. “Yes. Just us. Just hockey.”
I nod and release him, taking my position on the ice again. I won’t say it’s a magic recipe, but for at least this game, Felton doesn’t let another goal in, and we win 4-2. When he meets my eyes at the buzzer, I smile and give him an approving nod.
Dasan and Willits surround him, congratulating him. When Felton pushes his helmet up, there’s a smile on his face. A smile that hasn’t been there in ages. It’s not quite as big and ready as it used to be, but he’s smiling all the same.
I lose track of him when I get to the locker room and quickly peel out of my gear to head into the shower. Returning to the locker room to dress, it’s a far more positive environment than it had been. Not that it was negative before, but there’s something lighter about it.
My teammates are louder, rowdy. Happy. Celebrating this win like it’s something more than a regular season win.
“Ho,” Coach Shively calls, and I look up as I pick up my bag. “Press.”
I drop my bag in front of my cubby and follow him out. There’s an anchor for Sports Spot—Reese Davie. He’s not one of my favorites, but he typically keeps the conversations to hockey.
He smiles and gestures for me to take a spot in front of the camera to his right. “Ready?” I nod and we wait for whatever signal he’s waiting for. Maybe that means we’re going to be live. Also not my favorite, but whatever.
Reese nods. The cameraman gives a gesture in return, and Reese’s smile is full blast. “I’m here with Winnipeg defenseman Ren Ho after their win against Calgary moments ago. Ren, what’re you feeling right now?”
That’s a stupid question. I wonder what would happen if I said ‘next.’ “Feeling good. We play the game to win and we did that. It was a good game, a tough game. Calgary is an excellent team.”
“The game started out a little rough. What do you think happened there?” Reese asks.
“We’re just coming off holiday and filled with turkey,” I answer, earning myself a chuckle from Reese. “In all honesty,every team is different. The best teams are able to adapt to their opposition’s playing style.”
“Badcock was a little rough in the beginning. What did you say to him that made such a profound difference in his play?”
My hackles rise at the dig at Felton. “He’s one man on a twenty-plus person team. It’s not his responsibility to carry us. Winning the game is more than just preventing goals. We have to score goals too.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Reese agrees. “Definitely. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
I appreciate when they backtrack. “I reminded Felton of as much. There’s a lot of pressure on everyone’s shoulders during a game, but the goalies often feel it a little more because they’re in for the duration while we get to rotate out when we need to catch our breaths.”
“Why do you think Calgary was able to get so many shots on goal compared to Winnipeg?”
“We’re going for accuracy more than taking every open opportunity. If the shot isn’t open and we have a chance to keep the puck and try for a different angle, we do that. That means we have a higher possibility of making a goal when the opportunity presents itself, rather than taking a shot we’re confident won’t make it in and taking a chance of not recovering the puck afterward.”
This turns into a very long interview. He has a lot of dumb questions that I’m not entirely convinced he wants to ask. There’s probably a voice in his ear telling him what to ask next. Who writes them down? Who really cares about some of these stupid things, like the time the puck bounced off Jordan’s puck and right into one of Calgary’s sticks, leading to them taking possession of the puck? Hell, I don’t even remember that moment.
By the time I return to the locker room for my bag, I’m more exhausted than I had been after the game. The locker room is empty except for Felton, who’s still sitting on the bench, half undressed. Like he’d started peeling out of his gear and lost the energy to finish.
The good place he’d been in has apparently bled away. He’s leaning back in such a way that looks uncomfortable.
