I swallow my water and set the bottle down in front of me, tilting my head back and forth as I think about that. “Maybe now,” I concede. “But it took me a while to figure out how to not justreact. I had to constantly remind myself that if they draw a penalty, I’ve lost. And I fucking hate losing.”
He shakes his head and laughs. I raise my eyebrows in question at him.
“I just can’t believe this is my life sometimes, getting to talk hockey with you. I had your jersey before it had aCon it. I’m definitely making you sign that shit before you retire,” he jokes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m old,” I grumble. I push his last comment aside and focus on the rest. Shit like that is part of what I love about my job these days. Getting to help the next generation of players—people who watched me play as they grew up—is flattering and rewarding. The fact that they think I can help them is no small compliment either. Some of these guys are destined to be great. Some already are. “You’re killin’ it, man. This kind of shit will come with time. Just don’t forget to focus on your game. Set up plays and find quiet ice. Put the puck on frame. The rest is noise.”
“Noise,” Alex repeats, nodding slowly.
I turn to look up at the scoreboard as the game is about to resume and I grimace.
There’s three minutes and twenty-two seconds left on the clock and we’re down by one. It’s enough time to score, but their defense has been on point all damn night. And ours has been…less than stellar. I sigh and look away from the score, focusing back on the ice and the face-off that’s about to happen. I’m determined to do my best to tie it up when I get in there, and keeping a read on the other team’s lines is crucial. Who am I up against and what are their strengths? Their weaknesses?
I watch our guys lose the face-off and try not to curse. More often than not, I’m itching to get off the bench and back on the ice. When we’re down by one with only a couple of minutes left? The pull to hop the boards feels like an impulse I can hardly control.
We’re finally back in possession of the puck and I see our third line guys making their move for the bench. I sigh in reliefat being able to get out there and quickly hop up for the change, Alex and Niko following suit. Mikey sends the puck to me from near our goal and I quickly maneuver between two players to get down the ice. Niko’s waiting off to my right, ready for a pass. I see a defenseman covering him so I fake like I’m going to shoot, keeping my eyes on the goal. At the very last second I pivot so my stick sends the puck over to Niko, relieved to see he’s more open now. I hold my breath as he goes for a one-timer?—
Their goalie deflects it off his stick and New Jersey scoops the puck up to head back toward our goal.Damn. I’m racing to catch up, but their fastest player breaks away for a one-on-one. I watch helplessly as he shoots…and scores.Fuck.
It’s a hell of a lot harder to score two goals in two minutes than just one. I circle around and line up for a face-off at center ice, determined to keep my head in the game even with the odds against us. Feeling defeated serves no purpose, and as much as I hate losing, I hate giving up even more. I look around and check that my teammates are focused and then face forward, ready to fight to the end.
We lost.Not that anyone was surprised, obviously.
So no points for us and an increasingly worse record in the ongoing race for a playoff spot.Great.
The standings are tight this season and we’re currently tied for a wild-card position in our division. Which means we could be a contender, or we could keep losing like tonight and just fall out of contention altogether. Every game it feels like the pressure rises. And I have a feeling it’s going to come down to the wire for us.
I think of the different outcomes: making the playoffs and fighting our way through, or falling short and the season just…ending.
Every time we don’t make the playoffs—or make the playoffs, but don’t win the Cup—I feel like some seasoned gambling addict that can’t quite quit.Maybe just one more season will do the trick.It’s so easy to convince yourself to try again.
But if I’m being honest, our last few seasons have either gone downhill or kind of plateaued. So unless something drastic changes, I don’t see us miraculously having a way more competitive team next year. We’regood, but we haven’t been great in a while. I know we have Alex now and some young talent in the pipeline, but it usually takes new guys a few years to make a difference. It probably wouldn’t be enough for next year.
It could be though…
This is how it always goes in my mind. I’ll wonder if retiring after the season is the move and then find a way to convince myselfonemore season won’t hurt. It’s been like that for the past few years and I’m getting a little sick of the predictable cycle. I know I should just make a decision. But I genuinely don’t know what to do with myself when it’s over. And just theideaof another Cup is so goddamn appealing. It really does feel like an addiction.
So where does that addiction to compete go when you stop playing? What do I do with that drive that’s been my life’s purpose for as long as I can remember? I’ve spent my entire lifeplaying a game, for fuck’s sake. It’s like I’ve lived my life through the lens of competition—something that’s shaped how I face nearly everything.
I know some guys get into golf when they retire just to find an outlet for that innate drive to compete. But golf? I’d rather take a puck to the knee.
People recommend coaching, becoming involved with the team, starting up a new sport or hobby…the list goes on. Iknowthere are options. But nothing feels right. Nothing sounds fulfilling.
I think of Ellie and her job. Her selfless, stressful, make-the-world-better job. She fucking saves lives and I play a game for a living. God, sometimes I want to punch myself. Poor me and my very hard decision on whether I should retire or not. From my extremely well-paying job doing something objectively fun.
The perspective is a welcome wet blanket on my pity party.
Whenever I find myself in this vicious cycle of self-loathing, I know it’s time to take a step back and focus on something important. Something that matters. And little matters more than giving back to this community that’s given so much to me.
As my mind drifts back to Ellie and her job, I realize I know exactly what I want to do. It’s been a few months since I’ve been there and nothing recharges me quite like those little kids and their not-so-little hearts.
We travel home tonight and I know precisely how I’m spending my day off tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ELLIE
I haven’t seenMatt in almost a week. Iknowthat’s not that long, and I did talk to him on Saturday at least, but I’m getting addicted. Fuck buddies was a great idea.
