“Maybe you should switch up the power play teams,” I suggest lightly, running my fingernail over a seam on the sleeveof my jersey.
The table goes quiet. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“What do you mean?” Rory asks. “We put our best guys on the power plays.”
There’s a clunk of nerves in my stomach. When I’m wrong, I’mreallywrong, and it can have disastrous consequences, but there’s a lingering feeling that I’m right about this.
“Swapping out players changes the scoring probability,” I blurt out, pulse picking up. I should shut up and stop talking. I swallow hard.
Jamie leans in, watching me with focus. “How do you know this?”
“She has a statistics degree,” Hayden says confidently.
I shoot him a hard look. “Um.” Under everyone’s watchful, curious eyes, I can’t get a full breath. I’m not used to being the center of attention like this. “I build statistical hockey models.”
Silence.
“For fun,” I add. Oh god. They probably think I’m so weird. “Anyway?—”
“Do you have the models with you?” Rory asks.
“They’re on my laptop.” I brought it with me to the office when I headed in late in the morning, and I came straight to the game from work.
Hayden’s eyes spark with interest. “Show us, Darce.”
This is getting real, so I scramble for an excuse. “I’m not going to pull my laptop out at the bar like a dork.”
Hayden holds my gaze as his hand drifts toward his jacket zip, and I cough out a laugh. He grins, wiggling his eyebrows, making the message clear.
Show us the models or I’ll show them the picture of you on my shirt.
“Okay,” I say quickly, laughing. “I’ll show you, but don’t put too much stock into them. I’m just playing around.”
Jamie shrugs. “It can’t hurt.”
It could, if I’m wrong. No one’s checked my work. I’m just plugging numbers in and analyzing patterns, but they’re not proven. And if I’m wrong? It could backfire on the team. The other team could score a goal. The Storm could lose the game. In professional sports, every goal counts and every game matters.
The guys huddle around my laptop as I load my power play model.
“Your power play percentage as of tonight is”—I adjust the model for the two they had during the game—“just over 20 percent. It isn’t the worst in the league, but it’s not great, either.”
The guys sit in silence, listening.
“Your first power play line has Alexei on defense, but if you swap him out for another defenseman like Jayden, and swap Rory for one of your second-line forwards, say Dylan Lockwood,” I make the changes to the model, and it spits out a new number, “your chance of scoring on the power play goes up to 27 percent. One of the highest in the league,” I add, starting to feel self-conscious. “I know that seems unbelievable, and it’s probably wrong because no one’s verified this?—”
“Are you a wizard?” Rory asks, crooking a surprised smile at me.
“No.” I chuckle. “Just a dork, I guess.”
“This is incredible.” He leans in to read over the results on my screen again.
“Right?” Hayden nods at Rory. “She’s always been good at this stuff.”
My heart does a silly leap in my chest as warm, happy feelings bubble through me.
Alexei studies me with a serious expression. “Why do you think the scoring percentage goes up when I’m not on the power play team?”
“You’re already on the ice so much during games.” My forehead wrinkles as I think about the different iterations I did. “Players who have less ice time in that period sometimes perform better during the two minutes of a power play. It could also be that you’re more of a defensive defenseman, you know? Whereas if we swap out a defenseman who plays a bit of offense, it increases the chance of getting the puck to the other end of the ice.” I shrug. “I’m not sure. There’s probably a great explanation, but I haven’t found it yet.”