Which leaves me in the same place I always land. I’m sure I have a few good years left in me, but is it better to ride it until the wheels fall off or step away while I’m still at the top of my game? One bad hit could take me out, and I know I don’t want to be one of those players the media speculate about, hinting that I’m past my usefulness and should have some dignity and leave the game.
But then what? I have no partner, no family, nothing to fill my time if it’s not hockey.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply. “I’ll see you at practice later?”
“I’ll be here.”
I skate off the ice and make my way to the locker room. We’re three months out from the playoffs, and if we make it, we have a good shot at the cup. That would be a high note to end my career on, but it would also be a little sad leaving and knowing I still have something to contribute.
I wish the answer would just fall into my lap. For once, can something in my life be easy? I scrub my hand over my face. That isn’t fair. Hockey is easy. It always has been. It’s been my shelter through every storm of my life, and there have been many. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to picture a life after hockey. I’ve never had one. The last time I existed without hockey I was still a kid. I don’t know how to live any other way.
With those heavy thoughts playing on repeat, I head for the showers. I’ll figure it out. I always do.
