Page 74 of His Big Bad Stick

Rhett puts someone into the boards with a thundering boom.

That gets the fans going.

Dax fights for the puck, wins, and sends it out front of the net.

As I start to move, a stick twists near my skates, throwing me off balance.

The refs don’t make the call (again) and that gets everyone even more worked up.

Boston’s goalie can only send the puck away.

That’s our fucking chance.

The momentum is in our favor.

We can’t let the puck out of the zone now.

Turner knows this.

He’s come up and he’s holding the line.

Dax goes for the puck and wins another battle.

He passes it to me.

I make a quick pass to Rhett on my left.

He fakes a shot and sends it my way.

Without hesitation, I toss the puck to Turner and he one-times the puck with so much force and speed that Boston’s goalie doesn’t even attempt to make a save until it’s buried in the net.

The arena roars with cheers.

As I turn to skate toward Turner to congratulate him on the goal, I feel something hit my back.

When I look over my shoulder…

“Fuck you,” I call out.

Peter Slinon (big, bad star hockey fighter) drops his stick and gloves.

He really wants to go, right now?

I’m not in the mood for this shit right now. In fact, I haven’t been in the mood for much of anything for a little while now. I’ve had this weird sense of a hangover hitting me. I actually got to the point where Coach Patty made me see the team doctor for some testing. They checked for things like mono… wondering if I had picked up some bug or virus or something.

I’m more miserable than usual.

I’m eager to fight anyone.

I’ve gotten in the hot seat more than once over snubbing reporters and fans after games.

Believe me, I’m not actively trying to be an asshole, but I’m not going to hide how I’m feeling.

And since Peter wants to do this…

I throw my gloves down and go for him.

The fans love this.

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