Page 2 of A Scoring Chance

Murphy and I stare at each other for a few moments before he sighs in defeat. “Fine, but the minute that buzzer sounds, you’re on your way to the hospital. I’m going to call in a favorand see if we can get you scheduled for surgery in the next few days, just in case. It could be something else, an MCL tear or your patellar tendon.”

“Deal. Now help me up and back to the bench.”

Murphy goes to my left side, and the assistant trainer goes to my right. It takes a little effort, but between the three of us, I get off the ice and slowly make my way back toward the bench. No one says a word as I wince, trying to move my right knee as little as possible. I plop down on the bench, my right leg outstretched as Murph hands me a bag of ice.

“Ice on there until we get to the hospital. And take these. It won't get rid of the pain, but it should help with swelling.” He leaves no room for argument as I take off my gloves, and he drops two tiny pills into my hand. I pop them into my mouth and take a swig of water from a bottle as he gets to work, using an ACE bandage to secure a bag of ice to my knee.

The whistle blows, and a few moments later, the game is over. We’ve won the Western Conference Championship for the third time in three years and are on our way to the Stanley Cup Final.

I have faith that my team can win the Cup for the fourth time, but I won’t be out on the ice with them. However, I have the next six months to make sure I’m ready for a shot at the Cup again next year.

Chapter One

Cooper

Six Months Later

“Motherfucker,” I growl into the phone as I slam on the brakes, my truck coming to a screeching stop a few feet away from its possible annihilation. I hear a loud moo and a chuffing sound from the Highland cow standing in the middle of the street as if chastising me for cutting it so close. If I were anywhere else in the world, it’d surprise me to see a fold of Scottish Highland cows crossing the street on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, but in Redwood Falls, this is a regular occurrence.

“What happened? Did you get in an accident? Hurt your knee? What’s going on, Coop?”

“Calm the fuck down, Remy.” I chuckle, throwing my truck into park and stretching out my leg. I wince slightly as I reach down and palm my knee. “I almost hit a cow.”

“A cow? Like with black spots and they produce milk?”

“No. One with horns and a long, tan shaggy coat,” I deadpan. I want nothing more than to finish this conversation and get out of this truck. It’s only a little over an hour’s drive from the cityto Redwood Falls, but to say my knee isn’t happy at being stuck at a ninety-degree angle for so long would be an understatement.

“When in Hicksville, I guess,” Remy scoffs before getting back to his earlier lecture. “But, Coop, there’s no need to be so dramatic. This isn’t a banishment. The team thought this would give you more time to rehab your knee and think about their offer.”

Remy is the last person who should talk shit about Redwood Falls because he’s from here, just like me. Even though he’s a few years older than me, we spent almost all our time together growing up. The drawback of being raised in a small town is your parents’ friends’ kids are your friends. Thankfully, we had a lot in common, and he loved hockey just as much as I did. However, instead of going pro like me, he went to college. It’s been almost a decade since he last stepped foot in this town, but that’s a story for a different day.

“What’s there to think about? I either retire or get traded to some no-name team in Timbuktu to spend the rest of my days rotting on the bench.”

The last thing I expected when Coach called me into his office last week was this: an ultimatum. I’ve been playing for the Portland Timberwolves since I was drafted right out of high school. We’ve won the Stanley Cup three times and countless Western Conference Championships while I’ve been on the ice for this team. I’ve been captain for the last three years. I’ve done everything they’ve asked of me, but‌ it’s not enough for them anymore. A healthy hockey player is worth more to them than loyalty. The team is solid right now, but I need one more season. One more chance at the Stanley Cup. One last chance to pull my family back together.

“Coop, you're thirty years old.” I try to interject, but he cuts me off. “Thirty is old for a professional hockey player.” Remy sighs loudly into the phone. “You tore your ACL inthe conference championship and have been in rehab for six months. Did you honestly believe Murphy was just going to sign off on you coming back to the team? The last thing any of us want is for you to re-injure your knee so quickly after surgery. He didn’t think you were ready. Can you honestly tell me you’re back to 100 percent?”

I don’t respond because, deep down, I know he’s right. When I went down during the conference finals last April, I knew what that indescribable pain meant. It meant that the end was closing in. That the next injury could mean the end of my career and life as I knew it. Ever since my meeting with Coach, that little voice keeps getting louder, reminding me that this is all I’ve ever known. If I’m not a Timberwolf, who am I? I never went to college like I tried to force my younger brothers to do. I don’t have a career or a degree to fall back on. Hockey is all I know. It’s all I’m good at. It’s the only way I know how to take care of all of them.

“I’m not naïve enough to believe your silence means anything other than you’re done talking about this.”

“And the last thing anyone would call you is naïve, Remy.”

“Exactly. Right now, all you need to focus on is continuing your rehab to make sure Murphy has no choice but to sign off on you getting back on the ice and leading this team.”

The team. Shit, I almost forgot. I had originally thought I could rehab for a few more months at home and then be back with the team before the playoffs, but the team is all about optics. What would be a better way to give me “time to think,”—their phrasing, not mine—than to coach a team with the Portland Timberwolves Hockey Club back in my hometown? Everyone knows about my injury at the end of last season, so this is the best option to cover their asses and explain why I’m not on the ice with my team at the start of the season. A nice sound bitefor the team about their star player giving back to his community while he recuperates.

Everything was taken care of before I even stepped foot into that office. But I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had said no to this whole charade. Not like that would’ve happened. I’ve always put what is best for the team first. This time is no different.

“Easier said than done, Remy.”

“True. But if there is anyone in the world that could get it done, it’s you,” Remy says before hanging up the phone.

“Bye to you, too,” I mumble into the empty cab of my truck as I stare out the window, wishing for this line of cattle to end so I can get moving.

You’d think they’d have found some other way to get from one pasture to the other as the town expanded around it, but no such luck. Just like almost everyone else in this town, the cows are set in their ways. Not even an act of God will get them to find another route, not that Mr. Matthison has tried.“If it’s not broken, don’t fix it”has been his mentality since I was a teenager working on his farm, and I doubt it’s changed one bit.

I lay on the horn before sticking my head out the window and shouting, “Can you move a little faster? Some of us have places to be.”

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