When the final whistle sounds, I can see the collective relief on their faces as they skate off the ice.
And it pisses me off.
“You coming to the locker room?” Jack elbows me in the side. The entire team is gone and the arena is clearing out.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
The last thing I need to do is take out my own feelings on the team. Even though they played like crap doesn’t mean I have to lash out at them. I’ve had enough coaches do that to me that I never want to lead a team like that.
We head back to London tomorrow and have one more game this weekend. Maybe we can bounce back and put this game behind us.
The Zamboni comes out to clear the ice, and I take that as my cue to head back toward the locker room.
Heads are hanging and the mood is somber when I step inside.
“It wasn’t our best game tonight.”
“No kidding,” someone mumbles.
That pulls a laugh out of me. “I don’t want anyone getting too down about this. So it wasn’t our best game? We’ll learn from it. We’ll study film tomorrow before we play again and learn from this. We’ve still got a great team and have a shot at making the playoffs.”
A few guys mumble in return, but that’s all I get.
“Alright. Hit the showers and then I want everyone to turn in early tonight. No going out, straight to bed. You got it?”
“Yes.” That gets more of an answer.
By the time we get back to the hotel, the guys at least seem to be in better spirits. Me? I’m ready to crash.
Between the travel and wondering where things went wrong with Liv, I’m exhausted.
“We’re getting drinks,” Jack tells me matter-of-factly.
“I’m tired.” I shake my head.
“Nope.” Alfie grabs me by the shoulders and steers me into the hotel bar. “You’ve been a sad sack and we are not going to let this continue.”
“I agree.” Jack nods. “We just got our asses handed to us and you’re down, so we need a drink tonight.”
“Shouldn’t the coaches set the example for the team? I told them all to go to bed.”
“Coaches’ prerogative. We can have a drink. ‘Discuss the game.’”
I sigh. “Fine.”
Alfie heads to the bar to order a round of pints as Jack and I find a table in the corner for us.
“What’s going on? You’re usually happier than this.”
“Everyone has their off days.”
“This is more than an off day,” Jack says. “What’s wrong?”
Alfie returns with a pitcher and three glasses. He pours us each a glass and passes them around. “Is everything okay with Liv?”
“How much time do you have?”
I gulp down half the lager in one go, wiping my upper lip.
