Page 96 of Playoff

I chuckle. “It’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type.”

“Thatisa good thing because you’ll have to get used to me putting my hands on other men,” she deadpans, standing up.

“Doing my best,” I say, leaning over and popping a quick kiss on her cheek before heading out.

I should be in pre-game mode, but I’ve noticed that I don’t have any set rituals or superstitions. I show up, stretch, eat, stretch some more, do a little light cardio, and that’s it. Get on the ice and play my game. Soaking in an ice bath or doing exactlytwelve squats in exactly the same place, or whatever other thing some of the guys do, just isn’t for me.

Get in, get dressed, do my damnedest to score.

So that’s all I’m thinking about when the puck drops.

Ivan wins the faceoff and we’re off.

We know the Sidewinders are tough, and we were 1-1 in the regular season. Now we’re down 3-2, so we need this one.

And I want to be part of it.

I need to score.

Sometimes it’s like an itch that absolutely won’t be scratched until I see that little red light go off.

And tonight, I feel it.

That faintly uncomfortable sensation that heightens all my senses. Brings out something in me that I can’t replicate; it happens when it happens. Sometimes I can control how I deal with it, but usually I just have to get out there and push. I see the puck and know what it’ll take to get to it, even though it doesn’t always work out exactly the way I’m envisioning.

The first period is just a shit show of confusion.

We score first, but they fire right back.

Then they score again, and Canyon ties it up with a wrister that blows me away.That’swhy he’s the superstar on this team.

And yet, my own need—and ability—to score is brimming just beneath the surface, urging me on. I’m skating faster, stick handling better, and it’s like I’m one with the puck. I got the assist on Canyon’s goal, so I’m right in the thick of everything.

By the time we get to the third, we’re tied at three, and the burning need to get that puck in the net is almost physically painful. I can’t describe how it feels, but I know I have to make something happen.

“Put me in, Coach,” I mutter, even though that’s not how it works. I don’t even know if he heard me, but a minute later I feelthe tap, see Canyon throw his legs over the boards, and I’m right behind him.

My skates glide along the ice, and I tune out everything but the puck and the positions of my teammates.

I get the puck to start the play, so I get it into the zone on the wing and then curl back toward the boards to give Canyon and Ivan a chance to set up. The Sidewinders defenseman comes out to challenge me and leaves an opening that allows me to get closer to the net. As I skate around him, I take a quick glance at Canyon and see that his man is now coming to cover for the other d-man, leaving Canyon wide open.

I draw the defenseman in a little closer, then lift the pass over to Canyon, knowing he’s got the best shot at the net. Vegas is now in full scramble mode as everyone is trying to get between Canyon and the net—he is the superstar after all. He fires it through, nobody knows where it is, and all of a sudden, I see it gliding right toward me.

This is when instinct kicks in and it becomes a slow motion one-timer. Since no one else knows where it is, I move fast, because it won’t take long for them to figure it out. I wind up and it sails clean in, over the goalie’s shoulder.

My arms are in the air right as that red light goes off and chaos erupts. Before I have a chance to celebrate, one of the tough guys on the Sidewinders shoves Ivan backwards.

Big mistake.

The burly Russian isn’t a big fighter but look out when he does. He shoves the guy back, they drop the gloves and next thing I know, one of their defensemen has taken a swing at me.

Fuck.

I don’t want a penalty for fighting but I also can’t just stand here.

Andhestarted it.

So I give him a shove away from me, and he comes back, trying to get me in a headlock. I twist out of his grasp, and throw an undercut, catching him in the jaw and sending his helmet flying.

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