Chapter 4
I jolt awake as the morning sun pierces through the blinds of my house. It feels good to be back in Arizona. This space is a stark contrast to the biting cold I’m used to back in Montreal. It’s absurd waking up to this relentless heat, even in December. It’s still better than scraping ice off my car in the great white north, though. I slept in this morning, a much needed break after a late night. I might work hard and push myself to a certain standard of excellence, but, oh buddy, I play even harder. Going into a stretch of two days off, the very first thing I did was go out, get wrecked, and rage hard.
Now, in the harsh morning heat, I roll out of bed, feeling the sun already settling in my bones, and lace up my runners. Stepping outside, the dry air hits me like a furnace. Even hungover, I can’t help but revel in it. No frostbite, no snow drifts—just a clear, open road. As I jog through the neighborhood, each breath of desert life burns as I inhale. It’s a pain I’m used to. This is a feeling I can work with and build from. I find myself grinning like an idiot. Who knew this Canadian boy would be such a sucker for the scorched earth of Arizona?
I pound the pavement on my usual route, nodding at the other locals braving the heat. Some runners, some cyclists, all of us out here getting it done. I finish my loop, sweat pouring off me like a waterfall, and head back home. If I don't eat soon, I might lose my damned mind. It’s beyond time to refuel with my favorite off-day breakfast. Protein pancakes, fried eggs, and a handful of extra crispy bacon. Oh, and coffee—an absolute vat of it. I might have my very strict rituals that I keep to every day, but coffee isn’t one of them. Since I don’t have a game today, it’s totally fine to be zooted out of my mind on caffeine as long as I stay hydrated. Hydration equals success out here in the desert. Got to keep the muscles fed and the mind sharp.
As I sit on my porch, chugging water to counteract the desert heat, I notice that as painful as even the September heat may be, it’s wildly different from Canada. Back home, everyone’s bundled up and bracing against the cold, while here, people are in shorts year-round, always ready to soak up the sun. Everyone seems to have a much more laid-back vibe, so different from the no-nonsense Canadian grit. But the biggest difference? In Canada, you can’t throw a rock without hitting someone who plays hockey. The team I came from was nothing but locals looking to get called up. Not here. Our team is like a wide variety of dudes, with players from every corner of the world, each bringing their own wild personalities to the rink. It’s a co-mingling of cultures and personalities, and I love it. I treat all my boys like my brothers from back home—a habit that I’ll never break. It doesn’t matter if they’re from Sweden, Russia, or the U.S.—everyone’s a “Buddy” in my book. It’s that little piece of home I carry with me, no matter how far I am from it.
I roll into the local rink, my mind already buzzing with the need to sharpen my skills even on an off day. Living the life of a rink rat doesn’t bother me. I’m not the only one. By the time I get there, four of my boys are already there practicing. All this time we spend preparing will make a difference in the long run. No matter how I feel, the ice calls to me, and I can never resist. With my boys, I’m just Elliot, the guy who chats and jokes with teammates, building us up as a team. But the second I start protecting the net, I transform. Friendliness fades, replaced by an almost feral intensity. I become an unhinged beast, laser-focused on defending my territory. I maintain that mentality the entire time we practice and for the length of three periods and two intermissions. It never fails. It's second nature, but always after practice, I slip back into my easygoing self.
The few guys that were there for practice clean up and wehead out to grab lunch at a low-key burger joint. Over burgers and beers, we dissect the upcoming game and the team we are facing. Taking a huge bite of my burger before bringing it up, I ask, “Eh, boys, we’ve got the Cyclones coming up this Sunday. What’s the game plan, eh? Besides me standing on my head, obviously.”
My boy Ford, our current Captain, laughs, “You mean like you did last game? Gotta say those saves were unreal. I don’t know if that will be enough. Their offense is no joke. We need to be ready for those quick transitions.”
Oren nods his head. “Their wingers are fast as hell. We need to keep them on the boards and cut off their passing lanes. Defense needs to be tight, no room for them to maneuver.”
I interject, “Exactly, and I’ll be back there, ready to shut them down. But I need you guys to keep those rebounds out of their reach. Can’t have them getting second chances, eh?”
“You got it. And we just need to put some pressure on their goal. He’s been hot, but everyone has a breaking point. We just gotta find his.” Vlad smirks at me.
I lean in, deep in thought, before speaking. “We should target their weak spots. I noticed their defense cracks under sustained pressure. If we keep cycling the puck, we’ll force mistakes.”
Ford grins. “I love the strategy. And if we get under their skin a bit, it won’t hurt. Make them play frustrated, throw them off their game.”
Vlad raises his beer, “To taking down the Cyclones and securing our spot. We’ve got this, boys. Let’s show them who runs this division.”
I clink my mug with the boys and shout, “Hell yeah, buddy! This is our time, our year. Let’s bring the thunder to the Cyclones and make them regret ever stepping on our ice.”
Oren nods while finishing his drink, “Agreed. We stick to our game plan, keep our heads cool, and play smart. We’re taking home the win.”
Our time spent over practice and beer builds up our confidence, each of us feeling the electric tension of competition. I can feel my game-day madness starting to simmer just beneath the surface, ready to explode when the puck drops. The entire team is on my side, ready to run them up.
Leaving the restaurant, I head back to my house to unwind. Some much-needed time to do absolutely nothing. I kick back on the couch, flipping through channels until I find some mindlessly entertaining action film to watch. The evening drifts on, and before making dinner, I dial up my family back in Canada. It’s good to catch up with Ma, sharing stories of life in Arizona and the team’s progress. After hanging up, I head to the kitchen to prepare a healthy dinner—grilled chicken, quinoa, and a mountain of veggies. Nutrition is key to keeping my performance at its peak. My routines are vital; each meal is a step toward maintaining my edge on the ice. With every bite, I know I’m fueling not just my body but my determination to dominate.
After a well-spent off day, I hop in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and tension from my extra practice. Fresh and clean, I throw on a casual outfit and prepare to head out with the boys for a relaxed evening at a local bar. But deep down, I know it will never be just a relaxing night. Wherever we go, the attention follows—fans, locals, everyone wanting a piece of the action. It’s part of the job, part of the life we live. But tonight, I’m ready to take advantage, to enjoy what the lifestyle can provide me.
The bar is electric, and when our team is together like this, it's a recipe for a wild night. We kick things off calm and easy, exchanging quirky stories. With a group as diverse as us, anything can be an unforgettable moment. As the drinks keep coming, the vibe shifts. We are getting hammered, the music pounding through our veins, and the line between teammate and brother blurs. The night spirals into wild abandon—shots, dancing, and the inevitable flirting. My eyes lock with a stunning blonde across the bar, and with a cocky grin, I make my move. She is hooked, and soon enough, we are wrapped around each other, and partying with the boys takes a backseat. My night starts to take on a differentjourney than the boys’. Now it’s time for a different kind of adventure. As the night draws to a close, I whisper in her ear, and she giggles, following me out the door. With my arm around her waist, we stumble back to my place, ready to end the night with a bang.
I wake up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of last night's revelry pounding against my temples. Despite the discomfort, a surge of adrenaline kicks in—game day is upon us. The woman from last night is still sprawled across the bed, but I’m already on my feet, slipping into my joggers and pulling my shoes on tightly. “Time to go,” I mutter more to myself than to her, hoping she takes the hint without needing further prompting. She mumbles something incoherent, slowly gathering her belongings as I step out the door. The Arizona sun greets me with its relentless intensity, a harsh reminder of the day ahead. As I begin my jog, the familiar streets blur past, each step helping to clear the fog of the hangover and sharpen my focus for the game tonight.
I roll out of bed the next morning, feeling the weight of another night's mistakes. Immediately, I dive into my yoga routine, feeling each stretch revitalize my stiff muscles, preparing them for the exertion to come. After a solid session, I move to the kitchen to fuel up—a hearty breakfast of six eggs scrambled with fresh spinach, crisp bacon, and a toasted English muffin. I chug water relentlessly, my body absorbing every drop in preparation for the intense physical effort ahead.
My hockey gear is laid out with meticulous care, each piece inspected and arranged with almost surgical precision. Helmet, pads, and stick—I handle each as if greeting an old comrade, ensuring everything is primed for action. The quiet of my prep space buzzes with potential energy, a tangible anticipation hanging in the air. Finally equipped, I grab my bag and head out to the rink.
The drive to the rink is a blur of adrenaline and anticipation. My mind is laser-focused on the task at hand—taking down our opponent. Reflecting on my readiness, I feel the pressure and determination coursing through me. This is what I live for, the moments that define a career. I arrive at the rink, the familiar smell of ice and sweat hitting me like a jolt of electricity. “Let’s get it, Buddy!” I greet each teammate with a confident nod and slap on the back before moving on with the rest of my ritual. The pregame buzz is strong, but I’m a calm storm, every muscle and nerve in sync. As I gear up, the world fades away, and the ice becomes my constant. I feel prepared, focused, and more than ready to secure a win for the Phoenix Red Wolves. This game is ours, and I am the guardian of our victory.
My heart pounds in my chest, the rhythmic thumping echoing in my ears. The surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. My palms are slick with sweat, but my grip on my stick remains steady. The anticipation hangs in the air, electrifying every fiber of my being.
As I skate onto the ice, the cold seeps into my bones, awakening a primal energy within me. The blades of my skates slice through the ice with precision, creating a satisfying sound that drowns out the crowd’s roar. The familiar scent of the rink mixes with the intensity of competition, fueling my determination. With each passing moment, the outside world melts away, leaving only the ice beneath my feet. The arena becomes a blur of colors and sounds, but my focus remains unwavering. The weight of responsibility rests upon my shoulders, but I embrace it, knowing that I hold the key to our victory.
As the final moments of preparation unfold, I can feel my muscles tightening, coiling like a spring ready to be released. The tension in the air is palpable, but within me, there is a calmness, a sense of purpose. Every movement, every stride feels calculated, as if my body and mind are synchronized in perfect harmony.
The game is about to begin, and I am the guardian of our team’s hopes and dreams. The Phoenix Red Wolves rely on me, and I am determined to deliver. With a deep breath, I embrace the intensity of the moment, ready to leave everything on the ice. This is my stage, and I am prepared to seize it with unwavering focus and determination.