The first few minutes are awful. Not visibly awful - not enough for anybody else to notice… but I feel it immediately. I’m playing too cautiously. Passes I normally make instinctively, I hesitate on. My brain is working too hard.
“Blake!”
Russo’s voice snaps me back.
I pivot just in time to catch the puck sliding across the neutral zone.
A defender closes fast.
Normally I’d cut inside, but instead I hesitate.
The defenceman strips the puck clean and sends it the other way.
I swear under my breath and chase back.
Great start.
Two shifts later it’s the same story. It’s like the game is moving faster than my thoughts.
And that’s the problem - I’m thinking.
Halfway through the first period we line up for another offensive zone faceoff.
Russo wins it clean.
The puck slides toward the boards.
Shaw gets there first.
I’m still replaying my last mistake when the play develops.
Shaw takes one stride, drawing the defender toward him.
Then he pivots sharply and slips the puck through a narrow gap between two sticks.
Perfect pass.
It lands on my blade.
There’s no time to think. Instinct takes over.
One step.
Snap shot.
The puck rockets past the goalie and into the net.
Goal.
The noise from the arena is overwhelming.
Russo slams into my shoulder. Mercer jumps the boards yelling something unintelligible.
But my eyes go straight to Shaw.
He’s already gliding back toward center ice.
No celebration - just a quick nod in my direction.
