“You are one of the few who ever gets past me.” He flips his face mask up onto his head, and his green eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe I was just trying to kiss the captain’s ass on the first day.”
“Or maybe,” I say, skating backwards with a grin, “you still can’t track my pucks thrown your way.”
I laugh at his eye roll as I turn and skate to the bench where the rest of the team is gathered with Coach Goldman. He’s a retired NHL player and has been coaching the Bayside Bolts for the past five years. I respect the hell out of him and couldn’t be more excited to play for him this year.
“Good first day,” he says, looking over his notes. His dark reading glasses are perched on his nose as he scans the paper. “I’ll be addressing some of you individually on what you need to work on in the coming weeks. We’ve got some new faces this season, our team captain being one of them.” He looks up from his notepad and smiles at me before looking around and eyeing the rest of the team. “You all can learn a lot from Stone. I’ve been in the NHL a long time, and he’s one of the best I’ve seen. We are lucky to have him, and I expect you to listen when he offers you his help or guidance.”
“Hear that, McCormick?” I hear our left winger, Jett Hayes, call out, and all the guys chuckle.
I guess now is as good a time as any to step into the captain role. Coach’s eyes are on me, and I know what he wants to hear.
“I know McCormick and I have a history. It’s a known fact he’striedto get the upper hand on the ice with me.” I put emphasis on the word ‘tried,’ because I can’t help but get a small dig in. I’ve spent more time in the penalty box because of this kid, and I plan on making him sweat a bit because of it.
He’s young, but he reminds me of myself more than I care to admit. Unlike some of these players, he doesn’t just love to play hockey. He lives and breathes it like it’s the only thing worth living for. It’s his life, and I know that feeling all too well of clinging to something so hard to keep you afloat from drowning.
McCormick glares at me, but remains quiet, which gives me hope that he wants to learn just as badly as I want to teach him.
“But,” I say, quieting the snickers down as I focus on Thane McCormick. “He’s one of my teammates now, and the past stays in the past. We leave all of that behind right here and now. I don’t take being your captain lightly,” I say, looking around at the ones I’ll be closest to for the next few months. “You guys are my brothers now, on or off the ice. If…no,whenwe get that Stanley this year, we leave our egos at the door. On the ice, we are one mind with one goal…kick some ass and get that puck across the red line.” I grin as sticks start hitting the ice and the energy shifts into a haze of excitement.
I hold my glove out to McCormick, and it doesn’t take long before he’s knocking it against mine. Yeah, he wants the cup this year just as badly as I do.
Coach claps me on the back as the guys excitedly get amped up. I grip my stick and feel the rush of this sport sifting through my veins.
God, I fucking love it.
“Okay, boys,” Coach says, taking his glasses off and sliding them into the front collar of his shirt. “That’s it for today. Get your smelly asses in the shower, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I move to follow the rest of the team, but Coach stops me.
“You did good, Stone. I knew you were a damn good hockey player, but there’s a reason you were the New York Devils’ captain for so long. The guys listen when you speak and respect you. You were made to be a leader.”
“Thanks, Coach. I’ll do everything I can to lead us to the final win this season.” I look him in the eyes and mean every damn word.
“I have no doubt you will,” he grins. “Let’s bring that fucking cup home.”
“It’s as good as ours,” I smile broadly as I head to the locker room.
There are few things in life that bring a smile to my face, and this sport is one of them.
I remember the feeling I got the first time I put on skates. It was one of my earliest memories of my mom. I was four years old, and she took me to the mall to do some Christmas shopping. They had an ice skating rink on the lower level, and on that day, a few hockey players were teaching some kids to skate.
I stood there mesmerized as I watched the players move down the ice and pass the puck to one another with such skill that I had a hard time keeping up with the round black object.
I guess my mom could tell by the look in my eyes that I was watching something that would change my life forever. She took my hand and signed me up for the hour-long class right there on the spot.
The memory is still so vivid in my mind—the way my heart started racing when she helped me put on the rental skates and how the stick felt in my hand when one of the hockey players handed it to me.
The gear they loaned me was too big, and the helmet felt too small, but I didn’t care. I spent the whole hour getting bruised with each fall I took, determined to learn as much as I could possibly soak in while I was there.
The ice time was over far too soon, and I was nowhere near ready to leave. I wanted so much more. I could have spent the whole day there if they had let me.
As I was getting out of my gear, one of the players came over and talked to my mom. He told her about a kids’ team in the area and suggested she bring me to tryouts. My dad was against it, and I remember him arguing with my mom later that night about how it was too expensive, and we couldn’t afford it, but my mom refused to listen.
She took on extra work and got me signed up the next week. It becameour thingwe did together. For four years, she took me to every practice, sat and cheered me on at every game. I got better and better at the game, and she got sicker and sicker until finally her spot on the bleachers became empty.
That’s when my life turned to shit, and hockey became the only thing that I could hold on to—the one thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.
When I’m on the ice, I’m free.
