Chapter 15
Road Grade
Luke
The team bus smelled like diesel, stale coffee, and twenty-five guys trying to sleep in upright positions.
We were somewhere on I-91, heading toward UMass Amherst for a Friday night tilt that Coach Harper had circled in red ink on the schedule three weeks ago.“Conference points,” she’d said.“Must-haves.”
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window.Outside, the Massachusetts landscape was a blur of gray trees and dirty snowbanks.
My phone buzzed in my lap.
Austen:Radiator is making a sound like a dying bagpipe.Have initiated percussive maintenance.
I smiled, the tension in my chest loosening a fraction.
Me:Don’t dent the valve.I need heat when I get back.
Austen:Heat is preserved.Also, I’ve been reviewing Amherst’s game tape against Merrimack.
I frowned.He was watching tape?
Me:Why?
Austen:Data collection.Sending you a heatmap.Look at the Green Line.
An image loaded on my screen.A diagram of the offensive zone, but Austen had drawn a bright green line straight down the center, splitting the ice into two vertical halves.
Austen:This is the “Royal Road.”It’s the line dividing the ice.Amherst’s entire offense is predicated on crossing it.
I had to grin.Getting nerd-splained hockey gave me the giggles.Across the aisle, Ryan opened one eye and looked at me.“Austen’s nerd-splaining again.”Ryan grunted and closed his eyes again.
Me:It’s called a cross-ice pass, Austen.
Austen:It’s geometry.When the puck crosses that line laterally, the goalie must change his angle and depth simultaneously.The save percentage on shots following a Royal Road crossing drops by 28 percent.
I stared at the screen.Twenty-eight percent.Massive.
Austen:Do not let them cross the Green Line.If they pass across it, move early.Beat the angle.
Me:You’re such a nerd.
Austen:I’m a nerd who wants you to win.Defy the physics.
I locked the phone and slid it into my pocket.
“So, what did Lovell have to say?”Ryan asked.
“The usual,” I said, staring at the seat back in front of me.“Still trying to get me to employ mathematical reasoning to defend the crease.”
I closed my eyes and visualized the rink, seeing the glowing green line running down the center of the ice.
“Well, if it stops one puck from getting past you tomorrow, follow the nerd.”Ryan spat a shell into a paper cup.“Amherst’s a grinder game, Monk.Small rink, lively boards.Their student section sits right on top of the visiting goalie.They’re gonna chirp you about everything from your pads to your mother.”
“Let them chirp.”
“That’s the spirit.”Ryan kicked my boot.“Lock it in.We need you to be a wall.Javier’s got the flu or a hangover, I saw him skating slow in morning practice.Maybe he’ll be at one-hundred percent tomorrow, but who knows.”
