9. Hockey Is Fun Again
Chapter Nine
HOCKEY IS FUN AGAIN
Inez Lewis has been instrumental in choosing the Icehawks’ three call-ups. While the jury is still out on her picks, I tend to agree with her choices. Time will tell if we’re both right. The Icehawks are battling for that last playoff spot, and an infusion of new blood is just what they need.
What happened last weekend with the suspension of three Icehawk players participating in a barroom brawl is troubling. My source believes Drakos Lenkov was also present but eluded the authorities. Considering Lenkov’s reputation, it’s a sure bet he was the instigator. As usual, he manages to escape any punishment. —Aria from All Hockey News
~~Camden~~
It’s game day, and Inez has been avoiding me since the incident yesterday. I can’t blame her. After almost being caught doing something we shouldn’t have even considered, I’d probably lie low if I were her, too. I’m shouldering a large dose of guilt because I put Inez in that situation. I know better. Of course, so does she. If the look on Brian’s face was any indication, it’s best we keep a distance until the heat is off. I have to admit that I miss seeing her and talking hockey with her. She has a great hockey mind for someone who wasn’t born with a hockey stick in their hands. Of course, it’s more than that, but I’m currently denying our mutual attraction. I have to for both of us.
I’m pleased to see they called up the three players we chose. That has to mean something. I’d love to talk to her about how the meeting went, but I’ll give her space for now.
Sitting down at my stall, I begin my pregame routine. I glance up when Coach walks in. He normally speaks to the leadership group, so I don’t pay any attention until he stops in front of me.
“Hale.”
I glance up from lacing my skates. “Yes, Coach?” I experience a twinge of anxiety as déjà vu hits me. Being singled out by the coach usually it means I’m being traded or waived. I hold my breath and wait for him to drop the ball, or puck, or whatever. My hearts thumps loudly in my chest. I force a casual smile, as if I’m not being torn apart inside.
I’ve heard it all before:
The team wants to go a different direction.
We appreciate your contributions, but you’ll be a better fit elsewhere.
We have to make room for a rookie.
We no longer need your services.
Which one will it be this time—waived, traded, or sent down? Maybe it’s for the best if I’m not on this team anymore, but I really want to stay. I feel more at home here than any other team I’ve been on.
I stare up at Coach expectantly and hold my breath. I’m surprised to see a slight smile on his face.
“I’m moving you to the third line with Wade Leshure and Ryker Madden.”
“Okay, Coach.” I’m momentarily unsure of what I’ve heard. I run over the words in my mind a couple times and come to the same conclusion. They’re not sending me away but actually giving me an opportunity to shine with more ice time. Now that I think of it, this move makes sense. We’re down three experienced guys. The lines have to be reorganized.
“I expect Wade and you to help the rookie out. He’s never been called up before, and he’ll need whatever advice and assistance you can give him. He might have all the talent in the world, but that doesn’t mean shit unless he plays our game our way and understands his role.”
“I can do that, Coach. I’m good with the younger players.”
“I know you are. I can depend on you, Camden. You’re an unselfish team player. In a perfect world you would have a week or so to get used to each other. This isn’t a perfect world.”
“I’ll do my part.” I continue lacing my skates, then realize he’s still standing there. I glance upward.
“Camden, we need you tonight. We’ve been forced to replace three solid players with rookies. That’s brutal for any team.”
“I’ll give it everything I’ve got, Coach.”
“I know you will.” He smiles and moves on to my new linemate Wade. I turn back to the task at hand. Wade is a steady presence on the ice. He’s one of those sleeper types. The other team doesn’t see him coming until it’s too late. He’s got a great shot, and his two-way game is good.
As I suit up, I’m more nervous than usual, and it’s not just because of my new linemates. Tonight, the Icehawks play one of my old teams, the Seattle Sockeyes. This’ll be the first time I’m playing against my nemesis, Bryce Wilcox, the guy who got me traded from the Sockeyes. All the other times my teams have played the Sockeyes, I’ve been a healthy scratch.
Bryce did apologize for his unfair targeting when we were teammates. I’ve tried to forgive him, but I struggle every time I think about the crap he pulled to make me look like shit.
I push away thoughts of Bryce. I have a game to play, and I can’t let him get into my head. Thinking of him brings all my doubts about my abilities flooding back. In order to combat my worry, I recall his last words of apology to me before I left the Sockeyes. There’s always a place in this league for players like you, consistent guys you can depend on night in and night out. Maybe not flashy, but always there in a pinch and always giving everything they have.
At the time, I’d chalked his words up to his guilt over how he’d treated me and not any sincere assessment of my ability. Maybe I am that guy he describes, but he’s wrong on one subject. There isn’t always a place in the league for guys like me. We’re expendable.
I give this sport everything I have and then some. But hockey is a greedy mistress, and she sucks every bit of energy and saps my strength. Maybe I’m getting older and more jaded, but the constant worrying about what happens tomorrow and what team I might land on next and for how long drains me.
I shake off my negativity. These self-defeating thoughts aren’t going to help me or my state of mind. I’m moving up to the third line. That must mean something. I have to embrace my successes no matter how small.
Wade plops down next to me. “Hey, looks like we’re babysitting the rook tonight.”
“We are.” I manage a smile, and Wade returns it. Either he’s a great actor, or he’s genuinely happy to have me on his line.
“I think we’ll be a great tandem. Not sure about the kid.”
“He’s been burning up the minors, but this is an entirely different ball game.”
“Yeah, rookies are always shocked how much faster the game is at this level. Some never adjust.”
“He’s got all the right stuff. I think he’ll make it.”
Wade nods his agreement.
The subject in question enters the locker room with Inez. They pause. Ryker surveys the large room with eyes as big as saucers. I remember my first call-up. I was a combo of excited and sick to my stomach. This kid looks like he’s experiencing similar emotions.
Inez catches my eye, and I give her a slight nod of my head. She walks toward Wade and me with Ryker in tow.
“Camden, Wade, this is your new linemate, Ryker.”
“Hey,” Ryker says, and holds out his hand. I shake it. The kid has a firm handshake, and he looks me straight in the eye. He turns to Wade, and they also shake.
“Let us know if you have questions or need anything. You’re in good hands with these two.” Inez’s gaze lands on me. “May I have a word with you, Cam?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I clomp into the hallway behind her.
“Hey, I know I don’t have to tell you this, but if you could take this kid under your wing and help him out, it’d be greatly appreciated.”
“I can do that. You know me, the ultimate team player.” My last sentence has an edge of bitterness, which isn’t lost on Inez.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I try to temper my irritation with a smile. “You?”
“I’m feeling heat for our goalie choice. The coaches didn’t agree, but Brian did. I hope it doesn’t blow up in my face.”
“It won’t. We have solid reasons why he’s the right pick.”
“I hope you’re right.” Her brow furrows in the cutest way, and I see the worry etched on her beautiful face.
I’m not the only one worried about their job. Inez is in as tough a situation as I. We both have something to prove.
“Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.”
She hesitates as if she wants to say more but decides against it. We stare at each other. No words are necessary. I see the same longing in her eyes she must see in mine. I regret that we can’t explore this thing between us, assuming there is a thing between us, but I know better. My crush on Inez will be unrequited. Inez worries at her lower lip before turning and walking away.
I watch her go and wish our hockey careers weren’t standing between us, but they are. It’s been a long time since I’ve met a woman who intrigued me like Inez. Of course, I have to pick someone who’s technically my boss, and therefore, a huge relationship no.
“You’ve got a problem, my man.” Someone claps me on the shoulder, and I turn quickly. Kirby watches me with interest.
“Which of my many problems would that be?” I hope I’m wrong, and he’s not referring to who I think he is.
Kirby’s gaze tracks the path Inez took before he turns back to me. “You’re on babysitting duty tonight.”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it out. I swore he saw something between Inez and me, but I’m wrong. Kirby’s probably the most perceptive guy on the team, along with being the most mysterious and hard to figure out. If he had an inkling…Kirby is known for his relentless pursuit of the puck on the ice. The last thing I’d want is his single-minded purpose focused on Inez and me, not that there is an Inez and me. Why the fuck am I feeling so guilty about something that hasn’t happened yet?
“I need a favor.” Kirby watches me intently.
“A favor?”
“Keep your ears open for any signs of a disturbance on the team.”
“You think there’s a problem?” I’d just been waived by a team that had major strife in the locker room. I’ve seen very little of that on this team.
“Not necessarily. But how did Aria know Drakos was present in the bar that night unless one of our guys told her?”
I haven’t thought about that, but now that he brings it up, Aria seems to know a lot about Drakos’s comings and goings. “Why do you think I might hear something?”
“Because the guys will talk in front of you when they won’t talk in front of one of our captains for fear of management finding out.”
“Of course.” I want to ask him if he has any players in mind, but I decide against it. Kirby is secretive and closemouthed. He won’t tell me what his suspicions are. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own issues, I haven’t considered we might have an actual player feeding Aria information. What would be the advantage of giving her dirt on the very team you play for? I can’t think of one. She’s the most disliked person in the Icehawks locker room. I can’t imagine any of these guys undermining the team this way. I’ve only been on the team a short time, so maybe I’m missing something.
Kirby looks me up and down as if to assess if I’m ready for the task. “This is between us. You can’t tell anyone, especially Inez or Brian, until we know for certain.”
I start to protest not telling Inez, then decide better of it. The less I involve Inez, the better. This is one mess she doesn’t need occupying her time. Coach would be better equipped to handle the offender, whoever that might be if there is one.
The game isn’t going our way, but somehow, we’ve managed to keep the score close. By the end of the first period, we’re down one to zero. We’re sluggish and discombobulated. Our defense is faltering. Our forecheck is nonexistent. We can’t seem to get pucks into the danger zone near the net. Florida is ruthless. If it wasn’t for our goalie Roman, we wouldn’t be in this. He’s not only standing on his head, but he’s performing acrobatics worthy of Cirque du Soleil.
Coach breaks down the issues he’s seeing, then leaves us to our own devices in the locker room. I glance over at my rookie linemate. He’s sitting alone with his head in his hands. He’s getting the usual rookie persecution by our opponent. Florida is all over him, constantly chirping, hitting him hard, and slamming him against the boards. His confidence is clearly disintegrating.
I suspect there’ll be retaliation by the Icehawks next period. Briggs and Kirby are getting hotter and hotter about the roughness. As often happens in hockey, the other team will be delivered a message not to fuck with our guy.
Ryker catches me looking at him. He rises to his feet and sits down next to me. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing. They’re attacking. What we’re doing wrong is not capitalizing on their preoccupation with you. Once we do that, they’ll have to pay attention to the other four guys out there.”
He nods. “What can I do to improve? I feel lost. Everything moves so much faster than in the minors.”
“We all feel like that when we first come up. Know you’re not alone. The more you play, the more you find your zone where you can slow everything down in your head.”
“I need to find it soon.” His concern is palpable, and I appreciate his earnest sincerity to do better.
“Maddie, we’ve got your back.” Wade sits on the other side of him and clamps a hand on Ryker’s shoulder.
Ryker looks to him and back to me with gratitude. “I appreciate the support, guys.”
“We’re a team.”
Before we can say more, it’s time to head back to the ice for the second period. I feel renewed vigor. We aren’t out of this yet. I need to step up my aggressiveness. As soon as my line leaps over the boards to take the ice for our shift, a huge Florida defenseman slams into Ryker and sends the kid careening across the ice. It’s a clean hit, though rougher than necessary.
Ryker struggles to his feet a little shaken up but pushes himself to join the rest of his team streaking toward the other goal. The big defenseman angles across the ice, intent on giving Ryker another lesson on survival in the league.
Oh, fuck, no. Not this time .
I’m ready for him. I slam into him before he steals the puck from the kid, which opens up a shooting lane. Ryker sees it and seizes upon the opportunity with a wicked slap shot I’m envious of. The puck sails over the goalie’s head and into the net. Ryker raises his fist in the air to celebrate. The goal horn sounds, and the crowd is awake and rocking.
“Good job, kid,” I say as I reach him first. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Wade is next to join our group hug, followed by Kirby and Grady Jefferson.
“Way to lay out that asshole.” Kirby winks at me. We skate as a group toward the bench where it’s fist bumps all around before we go back to work.
“The timing was right.”
Kirby throws back his head and laughs.
The score remains tied until deep in the third quarter. I’m playing lights-out. I have one assist on Ryker’s goal, and I’m tuned in as I haven’t been in years. Ryker’s an enviably talented player. The kid can skate faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. He’s dangerous near the goal, and he’s also good at handling the puck. He’s made a few mistakes, which is to be expected.
Our line is buzzing. I pass across ice to Ryker. He does an impressive spin with the puck on his stick, then passes to Wade just as Wade crosses in front of the net. Wade fakes one way and shoots the other.
Score!
We’re ahead, two to one.
I’m having the time of my life. The crowd is with us, pushing us even further. Confidence is contagious, and we’re operating on all cylinders.
As I sit on the bench waiting for my shift, I’m struck by a realization.
Hockey is fun again.