Page 3 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

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 myshoulders, 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.

Chapter 5

As I zip up my suitcase, my hands tremble ever so slightly, betraying the nervous energy that courses through my veins. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead, yet another example of my inner feelings betraying my calm exterior. My heart pounds in my chest, thumping so loudly that I can almost hear it echoing in my ears.

With a deep breath, I try to control my racing thoughts, reminding myself of the countless hours I’ve spent preparing for this moment. The meticulous packing, the extensive research, and the carefully crafted notes are all evidence of my dedication to making my first solo broadcast a success.

Yet, despite my thorough preparations, doubt creeps in, whispering in the back of my mind. What if I stumble over my words? What if I forget an important detail? The weight of the responsibility feels heavy, threatening to overwhelm me.

In between battling my apprehension and nerves, a flicker of excitement shines through. Arizona awaits my arrival. I know it will be nothing less than perfect. Arizona is an amazing place of untapped stories and potential opportunities. The sense of adventure stirs within me at a rapid rate. The opportunity to become more than the sad, single girl working a job not meant for her. I can be anyone, the person I am meant to be. The prospect of being on air and sharing these stories with an audience fills me with a sense of purpose again.

As I glance one last time at my packed bags, I remind myself that no detail is too small to overlook. Every piece of equipment, everything I've prepared for this trip, is essential to capturing the essence of all things hockey and delivering a compelling broadcast. I find comfort in the fact that I’ve done everything within my power to be as prepared as possible.

With a renewed sense of determination, I grab my bags and head toward the door. The nervous energy still lingers, but it’s now accompanied, maybe even overshadowed by, a glimmer of hope. I am ready to face the challenges and embrace the unknown, for this solo broadcast is not just a test of my skills, but also an opportunity for personal growth and professional development–a chance to prove myself in the world of broadcasting.

I specifically picked a special set of carry-on notes for the plane ride. As the plane takes off, I immerse myself in my research, studying every detail about the players I am about to interview. My neurosis kicks into high gear, leaving no room for deviation from my perfectly prepared plan. I will be over prepared and maintain complete control throughout this broadcast. Even though I may consider this assignment beneath me, I refuse to let it show.

Of course, ACN didn’t swing to get me first class to Arizona. That would have been “excessive,” according to some guy who handles the travel plans. I’m stuck back here with the regular people. At least I have a window. Thank god I’m not in the middle. Although, I’m still stuck beside some middle-aged man, who keeps looking at me like he’s got something to say. He better not start talking–now’s the time for the headphones. As I reach for my headphones, he opens his big trap. “Got a big assignment, huh?”

I give him a deadpan stare before briefly glancing down at my research, maintaining my composure. I nod. “Interviewing the players for a hockey league broadcast tomorrow.”

The man gives me something one might call an encouraging smile. “Impressive. You seem fully prepared.”

With a small, fake smile, “Sure am. I’ve done my homework. Can’t afford to miss any details.”

The man then proceeds to chuckle at me, “Well, sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”

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