Chapter Thirty-Five
November
Liam
I like having a pre-game routine. Every sports person has their own way to get into the zone. I don’t think I have been in the zone once this season. No matter if I eat my lucky eggs or if I put my phone away it just hasn’t worked.
My heart won’t listen to my head and focus. It wants to be at home. The first away game of the season is in Carolina, too far away from my family. Too damn far. Instead of having my phone in my locker where it usually is, it’s in my hand playing a cheesy slideshow of pictures of Charlotte, as well as pictures from Jack’s birthday party at the rink back home.
My team depend on me to be on the ball, to have the puck, and right now I don’t even know which end of the stick is which.
“Ruin! My office now,” Coach’s voice bellows. It’s not a surprise that Coach Mitch wants to talk to me. I barely look up as I trudge to his makeshift office down the corridor. Despite being a grown man and father in my thirties, being screamed at by my coach renders me straight back to my teenage years.
“Have a seat, Ruin.” His tone carries contempt and simmering anger. His eyes look bloodshot as they glare at me.
“Liam, I am going to talk and you’re going to listen. You’re a mess. I have seen better skating from damn children. You are going to get your head on the ice or you will be warming the bench,” he states with conviction. Ice floods my veins at the thought of being benched. I might not be in it 100 per cent, but there is no damn way I am giving up the first away game for some new kid that’s still wet behind the ears. Not a chance in hell.
“I don’t know what to do Coach – my head isn’t fully in it, but you know I am a damn good player,” I argue. I know he knows. I am trying to remind myself .
Coach shakes his head. “Look, the new kid is chomping at the bit to get out there, so either you show me the Ruin I know or Michelson goes out for you.”
Shit. Micah Michelson is not taking my spot. I knew I was in trouble when they signed a new forward, but knowing I was retiring soon made me feel safe, as though they wouldn’t sub me knowing the number of games I have are limited.
“Thanks, Coach.” There is nothing else to say and we both know it. My face must look like thunder when I walk back into the locker room. All of the boys whisper in my direction as I all but stomp to my stuff.
“Rookie you might want to do some extra stretches, Ruin might be warming the bench.” Edge nudges Michelson, but his joking tone hides the question he wants to ask. He wants to know if I have been benched. Not yet I haven’t, and I won’t be if I have any control over it.
“Fuck you, Edge,” I say as Jonas interrupts:
“Wait, but I’m the rookie, eh?”
“No Jonas, you’re just Jonas now. Micah is the rookie this season.” Edge delivers the bad news with a shit-eating grin, Rook just opens and closes his mouth in shock.
“No way! That’s my damn nickname, eh,” he protests.
“Shut up, Jonas,” I tell him. I am going to get in the zone if it kills me. Or if I have to kill him .
I take the next half-hour to force my routine. I sit silently letting any adrenalin build. Anders keeps eyeing me from across the room, but I pretend not to see him. I’m not in the mood for his motivational crap right now. All I want is to get on the ice and feel the cheers of the crowd. At home games, it’s been the only thing that has managed to calm my mind so here’s hoping it will work tonight.
In the tunnel, we wait to skate out and the crowd is rowdy. I can already hear them slapping the glass and stomping their feet, I just know they are a few beers deep and the puck hasn’t even dropped yet.
I need to feel that noise and atmosphere in my blood, it has always been my favourite part of playing hockey. Instead of calm focus coming over me, the crowd makes me feel feral. Like every one of their jeers seeps into me and flows down through to my skates. I feel like a rabid dog waiting for some prey as Anders skates to the centre of the ice for the face-off.
The game is carnage, I think every player is feeling as out of sorts as me, or at least I hope so. I can’t be in this alone. Every nerve ending is firing on a hundred cylinders.
Not three minutes pass before my world is rocked.
A dirty check has me flying into the boards, but worse than that, he follows me over crushing me harder against the glass. Even with my helmet I feel the pressure against my skull from his weight against my back.
I snap.
The minute his weight is leveraged off me my fists are swinging. My stick lays forgotten on the ice, I throw my gloves beside it as I swing at the red shirt-wearing asshole.
This is what I have been feeling, my body knew there would be a fight, I just don’t think it expected it so soon. I have his jersey bundled in one hand as the other swings at him until he falls. I can’t seem to stop. I watch myself straddle him and watch his helmet fly off his head, his face is covered in blood as I feel his nose crunch under my fist.
It feels as though we fight for hours; him still getting some good hits in even from his disadvantaged position. I feel tugging on the back of my jersey as I am all but lifted off his body by Anders. The ref is sending me to the box but my adrenalin seems to evaporate all at once when I see a camera following me.
All at once I remember that Ellis and Jack will be watching at home. My sweet boy will have watched me beat a man for nothing more than a shove. It makes me sick.
His face would be looking up at me with confusion behind his eyes and I know Ellis will be disappointed that I didn’t keep my cool. In the past, she rarely ever sat right at the glass because if someone got checked in front of her she would hate it.
Now, here I am breaking some guy’s nose just because he is a dirty player. I have played against worse with way less reaction but tonight I let everyone I care about down. The first thing on my to-do list when I do get home is to tell Jack that violence shouldn’t be the answer, the kid looks up to me and the team like idols since we came into his life, what kind of legacy am I creating for him and Charlotte?
My few minutes are over quickly and I am allowed back on the ice but by now it is already two nil to Carolina and I know my stupid playing is part of the reason why. I am going to play good clean hockey and make my family proud.
That lasts less than two minutes.
Edge gets the puck off the baby-faced Carolinian and shoots it to me, I am open and free and yet my arms are not quick enough. My skates feel like sandbags holding me back as the puck sails past. It was an easy puck, no blocking players, nobody pulling me back and I missed it.
I miss it completely, losing us our first chance at a goal. Edge looks like I pissed in his cereal and I don’t blame him, Anders just looks confused as Carolina manage to make it three nil by the end of the first period.
The minute I am off the ice for a break I know I am staying off it. I was given one chance to show my coach I could get myself in check and I didn’t. Coach Mitch barely even looks at me before he shakes his head and juts his chin towards the bench as he turns to Michelson.
The guys are giving me a wide birth, all scared I will go to attack mode with them but I don’t even have that fight in me. Micah keeps glancing at me, I’m happy for the guy. Well, not quite happy, but I remember my first rookie game in New York when I wasn’t really a part of the team yet: the same way he is now. Just on the outskirts waiting for your chance, but knowing someone is going to get traded or retire for that to happen.
Plus, it’s my own fault. Coach told me to get my head in the game but it’s my heart that isn’t in it right now. My heart is at home, and I have to be across the country knowing I could miss a million things over the three days before I get home.
My priorities just don’t include hockey as high as it used to. I have been a professional hockey player for a damn decade and have played for three teams that I have loved. I’ve done it all. Won cups and medals and admiration.
I don’t need any more of them. I wanted one last season, one last blaze of glory but what if me staying here and playing this season is going to make the team worse? Could I forgive myself if the newer boys had a shitty season all because I wish I was cuddling my little girl instead of scoring goals?
The game comes to an end with us being all but obliterated out there: four one to them.
Waiting until the end of the season might not be beneficial for any of us. I guess another thing on my to-do list at home is going to be talking to Ellis about if I should hang up my skates now instead of in seven or eight months’ time.