We spent more time together than most married couples. We’d seen each other at our worst and our best. And we were family, for better or worse.
Mostly better.
Even when someone’s head was covered in breakfast cereal and Canada’s finest.
We won that night, 4 to 2. I had an assist on Tyler’s goal and laid a hit in the second period that sent the “bad guys” forward spinning into the boards and out of the game. It was the kind of performance that left a player buzzing, high on adrenaline and team energy.
Afterward, knowing our next day held nothing but air travel, we found a steakhouse near the hotel that could accommodate twenty-three hungry hockey players and a handful of our braver coaches and staff on short notice. The hostess looked terrified when we strode in, but the manager was a fan, so we ended up in a private room in the back with a dedicated server who kept the drinks and appetizers flowing.
“To Erik’s hair,” Murph announced, raising his glass. “Gone but not forgotten.”
“I will show you Valhalla, youfårskalle,” Erik said pleasantly.
“Did he call him a fudgesicle? I haven’t had one of those in years,” one of the guys to my left whispered.
“To Erik’s future revenge,” Tyler amended, raising a bottle of Dos Equis. “May it be creative andwell documented.”
We clinked glasses and bottles, and the evening’s relaxation began in earnest. A stream of servers brought steaks the size of my head, loaded baked potatoes, and enough sides to feed a small army. For a glorious few moments, conversation gave way to the serious business of eating.
Then Murph decided to retell the story of the syrup prank to the guys who’d missed the morning’s hallway showdown. Tyler, never one to be left out, passed his phone around so they could see the video, noting how many likes and shares it already had on Insta.
“. . . had to source authentic Quebec maple, right? Because if you’re going to commit to a bit, you commit fully. I’m not using some corn syrup knockoff. That’s amateur hour.”
“How did you even get it in his shampoo bottle?” Kowalski asked.
“Trade secrets, my friend. A magician never reveals—”
“He bribed the housekeeping staff,” Erik said flatly. “Twenty dollars and a signed puck.”
“Erik, you’re ruining the mystique!” Murph protested.
“There is no mystique. You are a chaos goblin with too much free time.”
The table roared.
I leaned back in my chair, nursing my drink, and watched the scene unfold. Tyler challenged the team to calculate the total dollar amount Murph had spent on pranks over his career. Erik grudgingly admitted that the Froot Loop detail had been “a nice touch.” A couple of rookies at the far end of the table were cracking up at Erik’s cereal-encrusted fury on their phones but slammed them on the table the moment the giant brute snarled in their direction.
This was everything I loved about road trips, the insulated bubble of team life and the way nothing outside this room seemed to matter. Tomorrow we’d fly to Edmonton, do a light practice, play another game the next night, then fly somewhere else to do the whole thing over again.
The server came by to clear plates and offer dessert menus. Most of the guys declined, but Murph ordered a slice of chocolate cake “for the table” that he clearly intended to eat by himself.
“No shame,” he said when Tyler called him out. “I earned this. Do you know how much planning went into this morning? The logistics alone—”
“You are unwell,” Erik said, but he was smiling.
When the cake arrived, Murph made a show of savoring every bite while the rest of us watched in disgusted fascination.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Tyler said. “That dessert thing they had at that bar in Tampa. What was it called? The—”
“Barbacks,” I said. “They do this fried cheesecake thing. It’s ridiculous.”
“That’s the one! We should go back there when we’re home. That place was fun, and the food was insane, not like any bar I’ve ever eaten in.”
“Thegaybar?” Jankovic, one of the quieter rookies, perked up. “You guys went to a gay bar without me?”
“Janky, it is a sports bar that happens to be gay-owned,” Erik clarified. “They have great food, and Lightning basically adopted it after that news thing last year. The sliders might be the best I have ever eaten.”
“I feel personally betrayed that I wasn’t invited,” Jankovic said.
