Page 17 of The Legend Next Door
That was different.
It felt good. Really good. It was pleasure without a price to pay later. It was the first time in a long time that coming made me feel good. Only good. Not good followed immediately by sad.
I almost forgot what that’s like.
13
Jeremiah Blake
Boy,wasIright.Hockey isdefinitelythe game for me. It’s been two weeks since I became a fan, and let’s just say, I am hooked. What a game. It has everything you could ever want in a sport. Excitement, suspense, eye candy, violence, and intrigue galore.
It’s all very exciting.
I’ve learned so much since I started watching. A whole new world has opened up for me.
I’ve learned there are a hell of a lot of teams in the NHL, so in a roundabout way, I was right about that too. There are thirty-two teams, to be exact, and a hell of a lot of players on each team, twenty per game. Or is it twenty-three?
Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ll need to google that.
I am sure there’s an incredible amount of organization and coordination involved in the game, though, which I wasn’t expecting at all. I always thought it was a bit of a bun fight where everyone just did their best to get close enough to the puck to whack it, but no, there’s so much more to it. Each player has a set function. Defense or offense. And there are lines of players, which are like little mini teams within the bigger team. Each line comes onto the ice, plays for a while, and then goes off again. They do it to ensure everyone gets a turn with the puck, which I think is very sweet.
I also know all about the Stanley Cup now. It’s a very big deal, and there’s a lot more to it than simply being an oversized water bottle, believe me.
I’m at the point now where I know so much about hockey that I start cheering at exactly the same time as the crowd on the screen, and what a feeling that is. It gives me a real sense of community. Of connection. Honestly, I’m starting to understand why straight men love sports so much.
I’ve done an incredible amount of research, and yes, I did have a little lie down when I discovered communal showers are a real thing. I thought they only happened in porn. And I had to have another lie down when I realized jocks are an official part of hockey uniforms, but honestly, who could blame me for that? It’s enough to make anyone lightheaded.
If I absolutely have to find fault with the game, it would be in regard to the uniform. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a big deal or anything, but if I were designing a hockey uniform, I’d forgo the whole baggy shorts thing and just go with a football-style pant. You know, something fitted and compression-y. Compression helps recovery, and these are professional athletes, for heaven’s sake. They’ve spent an incredible amount of time training and honing their bodies. It must be so disheartening for them to be unable to show off their thighs. Or their butts.
Poor things. I feel for them.
My research didn’t stop there. As soon as I recovered from the communal showers, the jocks, and a brief deep dive into compression pants, I learned all about adorable things like hockey team nicknames, rituals, superstitions, goal songs, and pre-game performances.
I love all of it. I really do. I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much of my life not watching this beautiful game.
I hit fast-forward on my remote and my TV screen blurs into white, red, and black squiggles as I rush through the next play at double speed.
Beside me, Marcus sweeps a hand heavily across his forehead and groans loudly. “For the love of God,” he says through his teeth. “If we’re going to suffer through this, can we please just watch the whole game?”
“But, but, why would we watch hockey if Ben’s not on the ice?” I ask.
“Because, Jeremiah, we’re normal. At least, I am.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Fortunately, my fast-forwarding worked because whatever needs to happen for Ben and the other center to go to the middle of the rink and fight over the puck has happened.
Yay.
I love this part.
Ben crouches low, eyeing the opposing player for three, maybe four seconds. It’s a look that could strip meat off a bone. His eyes move microscopically from left to right as he sizes the other player up. His gaze drops to the red dot between them, and before the puck drops from the ref’s hand, his mouth hitches up on one side. It’s a telling smile I’ve spent hours studying. It’s a smile he smiles when he knows the puck is as good as his.
He’s never wrong.
The other player is quick, but Ben’s quicker. In fact, Ben is so quick it hardly seems human. He taps the puck between the other player’s skates and hits him with his shoulder hard enough to see the poor guy sprawled out on the ice. Ben leaps over him and chases the puck like a missile. A homing missile with a target locked in. His stride is fast but loose enough to look graceful. He moves with a laid-back ease that’s deceptive. Far from being casual, when he moves like this, he’s lethal. He draws the first defenseman out and gets around him with a left and right tap of the puck that looks like a laugh. Like a joke. Like Ben’s a pro and everyone else on the ice is learning to play. He approaches the circle at blistering speed. The other defenseman is bricking it over to him, but he’s too slow. Ben has his eye on the prize, left corner, back of the net. He shoots and scores.
The crowd and I go wild. Marcus asks if we can watch something else.
