Ever since I skated onto the ice and realized that we were going to be scrimmaging in front of nearly five hundred people who were dressed up, with signs, jerseys, and hats—Astrid and Nora have already managed to get jerseys and other merch?—as if this is a game, not a practice. There are even concessions, though they are less elaborate than they will be once the season officially kicks off.
Still, this has the feel of an actual game, and I have been off kilter from minute one.
Minute one ofmanyminutes.
The first period took forty-two fucking minutes.
Because there is a lot more than just hockey happening.
And sure, I knew that. Bonkers hockey has been a part of this deal all along. But this is bonkers hockey in real time with an audience, refs, an opposing team, the whole thing.
And it is so much worse than I’d expected.
Sutton and Nora gave us a quick run-down before we came out on the ice.
For the first five minutes of play, it seemed like regular,normalhockey.
Then there was a penalty called.
The two players were given a choice of how they wanted to “serve” their penalty. They could either sit together, wearing a huge T-shirt that went over both of their heads and allowed each of them to stick one arm out, for two minutes in the penalty box, or they could lip sync the first verse and chorus of “You’ve Got A Friend In Me”, from, of course,Monsters, Inc.
The guys turned to the crowd and, using applause, let the fans vote. The crowd chose the lip sync.
And they pulled it off perfectly. Everyone loved it.
My headache started around the time three guys from each team joined them on the ice, swaying with their arms around each other, behind the lip-syncers.
Later in the period, the ref made a call that the crowd hated. Nora agreed to show the replay and let the fans decide. When it was determined the call was wrong, the ref, Tanner, had to wear a dunce cap for the next two minutes of play.
And then we got to the last minute of that first period.
There was a buzzer, and Nora and Sutton tossed twenty pucks onto the ice at once.
Every puck in the net still counted as a point, and we were torn between defending our net and trying to put as many of the extra pucks into the Rascals' net.
In other words, it was chaos.
Now we’re preparing for the second period, and Nora is center ice, with that fucking microphone, explaining what will be added in this new period of the game.
And she looks fucking adorable in a pair of bright purple overalls and purple skates.
And even as she literally makes my head pound by heaping more craziness onto this ‘game’, I still want to peel those overalls off of her and lick her from head to toe.
Maybe after painting her body with cherry cold foam.
“So now,” Nora says, her grin bright, the spotlight shining on her like she’s a rockstar, “We’ve got even more fun.”
I rub a hand over my forehead.
“But we wantyouto be part of it,” she says to the crowd. “We want to know what you think players should do for penalties, we’re going to let the teams celebrate after they score four points—oh, in this second period, goals are worth two points!” she adds.
The crowd cheers.
I sigh.
“And we wantyouto choose each team’s celebration song. And finally, you get to pick what happens in the last minute of play! Turn your attention to the big screen for the options!”
She points to the big screen that hangs over center ice.
