It’s like he’s telling me to stop thinking and just play.
And by the second period everything is working exactly howhockey is supposed to.
This is the part of life that makes sense.
Not lectures or assignments. Not the stack of exam prep sitting on my desk back in the dorm.
I’m aware of January exams looming. My degree is supposed to be the sensible backup plan. Something my parents can point to and saysee, at least he has options.
But when I’m on the ice, none of that feels real.
Hockey is the only thing that ever has. The only place where everything lines up. It’s what makes the rest of life feel worth navigating.
Showcase or no showcase.
This is what I want.
Late in the third period the scoreboard still shows our lead.
There’s two minutes left.
The puck bounces loose in the neutral zone.
Shaw reaches it first. He slides it across the ice right onto my stick.
I don’t hesitate. The puck slides clean into the net.
Goal.
Game over.
The buzzer sounds seconds later.
One down.
One to go.
LEONORA
The Showcase isn’t a certainty yet. Not quite. But there’s only one game now between the Giants and it.
I sit on the bench in the physio room, slowly peeling off mygloves, trying to let the noise of the arena fade out of my head.
The adrenaline is still buzzing through my veins.
Part of me feels like I could skate another full game. Another part of me feels like I might throw up.
When I first stepped onto the ice as Lee Shaw, the plan had been simple and very temporary - just a few games to help the team while Grant was injured. To see if I could pull it off.
That was before the Giants started winning.
Now the whole thing is gathering momentum like a snowball rolling downhill.
And if we win tomorrow, we’ll be playing at the Conference Showcase the following weekend.
The thought should feel incredible. A huge part of it does.
But the Showcase is different. There’ll be Scouts, media, packed arenas, and a huge amount of attention.
