Page 50 of Playmaker

Denver plays at Vancouver tonight, and Pittsburgh hosts the Seattle Winterhawks.

GENERATIONAL TALENTS MAKING THEIR MARK IN WOMEN’S LEAGUE

Ivy Tanneson on track for second 100-point season; hockey legend Doran McAvoy’s daughter leading spectacular power play in Pittsburgh

LOS ANGELES – On the eve of Thanksgiving—often a point at which the playoff picture begins to take shape—several WHPL players are standing out with exceptional performances.

First overall draft pick Ivy Tanneson has amassed 14 goals and 17 assists after just 25 games, putting the Los Angeles right winger on pace for her second 100-point season. Fans and analysts feared her disappointing rookie season—20 goals, 9assists—had been portentous for her career, but after corrective surgery on her wrist following the playoffs, Tanneson is back on her superstar trajectory.

A surprise talent is emerging in Montreal’s seventh round pick Noel Carter. Initially placed on the team’s bottom six to provide some depth scoring, Carter has soared to the top line. After 27 games, she leads her team in points (31) and assists (18), and she ranks fourth in the League for power play goals.

Montreal general manager Naomi Ouellette says Carter “has come into her own and found her stride, and she will have her name in the sport’s record books for sure.”

And in Pittsburgh, the McAvoy hockey dynasty continues to reign supreme. The daughter of the legendary Doran McAvoy and sister of St. Louis star Mark McAvoy, Sabrina McAvoy is living up to her name and her genes. She’s currently third in the Great Lakes division for goals and first in assists, and no one in the Eastern Conference has more points overall. Sabrina’s playing style has always been that of a playmaker, notching an impressive number of assists on her teammates’ goals. By contrast, her father was a record-setting goal scorer, but after just two seasons in the WHPL, Sabrina is on track to match or possibly surpass Doran’s point totals.

Of his sister, Mark McAvoy says, “I’m not at all surprised. I was there when she was tearing up the ice on a team of boys who were all older than her.” With a laugh, he adds, “If there’s any woman who’s going to make the jump from the women’s league to our league? It’s Sabrina. Guaranteed.”

Doran McAvoy did not respond to requests for comments on his daughter’s performance.

In the passenger seat, Zoe huffed sharply and put down her iPhone, where she’d been reading aloud the recent articles.“Are they ever going to be able to mention your name without bringing up Dad or Mark?”

I gave an irritated sniff and tapped my nails on the wheel. “They left Ty out this time, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

“The hell you can’t,” she muttered. “Funny how they never call Mark the ‘brother of women’s hockey star Sabrina McAvoy.’”

“Yeah.That’llbe the day.”

“Right?” she grumbled. “Ugh. They don’t even mention that you’re the captain or that your team’s power play is number one in the entire league. Don’t they ever get tired of gargling Dad’s balls?”

The laugh that burst out of me almost made me run off the road, and Zoe giggled behind her hand. I playfully smacked her arm. “You’re so gross!”

“I’m not wrong, though!” She gestured with her phone. “I mean, they can’t even talk about your stats without comparing them to his. Like, why not just say you’re probably going to set a points record in the League instead of saying… that?”

I pursed my lips as my humor died away. “Yeah. It’s annoying. On the bright side, Dad probably won’t see it and get pissed off about it since he doesn’t read articles about women’s hockey.” Good thing, too—he’d bristled at the idea that his son might eclipse some of his records. He wouldnotbe pleased about anyone suggesting hisdaughtercould do the same, especially since she was playing against women so it didn’t really count anyway.

“You never know,” my sister said. “He’s just narcissistic enough to Google himself.”

I groaned. “Ugh. True. Well, let’s hope he doesn’t read this one. That’s a phone call I don’t want to answer.”

“I don’t blame you. At least Mark has your back, though.”

At that, I laughed with more feeling. “He better. He knows if he’s a butthead, I’ll get into his league just to play against him and beat him.”

She giggled. “Those guys wouldn’t know what hit them.”

“Eh, some of them would. I’m pretty sure the guys I played with and against remember me.”

“Think any of them are still bitter over you beating them?”

I grinned. “Probably.”

We both laughed, and I continued driving. One guy from my U12 league had gone on to make the men’s league, and two more were in the minors. One of the two in the minors had been on a team that had threatened to forfeit a game rather than play against a girl. When it became clear that my coach wasn’t benching me, they’d grudgingly agreed to play. That kid had spent two minutes in the box for high-sticking me during the second period, and his coach had thrown such a tantrum over it—claiming it was impossiblenotto high stick a player as small as eight-year-old me—that he’d scored himself a bench penalty. In the resulting five-on-three power play, I’d scored, and the kid’s team had been apoplectic.

I wondered sometimes if that had been in the back of his mind that time in major juniors when he’d tried to fight my brother over something stupid. Like if he saw the name MCAVOY across Mark’s shoulders, and just sort of lost his mind. That, too, had cost his team a power play goal against. Scored by Mark, of course, since he hadn’t taken the bait and thus hadn’t taken a penalty.

The kid’s stick had been in four pieces when he’d emerged red-faced from the box.

Temper, temper,I thought, suppressing a laugh.

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