Page 7 of Puck You
Grace
Where Boston College was gothic grandeur and perfectly manicured lawns, DU was understated charm.The campus was deeply entwined with the surrounding nature.Each and every building had been overtaken by plants; vines extended over the cluster of stone structures in multitudes, expanding across the grounds in a vast network of greenery.As fall approached, there came a shift: in a matter of days, the school transformed into an explosion of warm colors and fallen leaves, students strolling around in cozy sweaters as they made their way to class along pathways lined with red maples and white birch trees.I felt at ease here, being in such a familiar environment.It was a considerable difference from Boston, where people honked first and screamed second.Clearly, I hadn’t realized how homesick I was until I was back in the Midwest.Who needed the ocean when you had the Great Lakes?
In the first few weeks of school, I’d settled into a comfortable pattern with classes and my roommates.Despite being complete opposites, Lydia and Caroline complemented each other perfectly.Caroline was intense, organized, and carried a sense of urgency in everything she did, while Lydia exemplified the termlaid-back, spending her time drawing or scouring the local thrift shops for her next jackpot find.What amazed me most was their dynamic on the ice.It was as if they were capable of reading eachother’s thoughts from across the rink.
Meanwhile, it was nearly impossible to get a text back from my sister.Given that she’d spent most of the summer with her face glued to her phone screen, I assumed she was going out of her way to ignore me.I was lucky if I got a thumbs-up or a one-word response.No amount of update texts or funny TikToks seemed to pique her interest.
Feeling helpless in my effort to connect with her, I turned my full attention to the one thing with the power to distract me: hockey.I could lose myself in the sport.Being on the ice gave me the ability to tune out my racing thoughts, even without the help of my wireless headphones.But unfortunately, the replacement rink for the women’s hockey program was sorely lacking.Nothing could have prepared me for the state of our training facility.At first glance, it only seemed to be outdated.But after several weeks of practice, I’d uncovered a plethora of issues that made spending almost two hours there every day feel like an impossible task.Now, my one source of comfort left me more frustrated than relaxed.
The facility was located on the opposite side of campus, which happened to be a twenty-minute trek from where I lived in the Athletes’Village.While the earlier than expected wake-up call was manageable, at least for me (Lydia had to be dragged from bed every morningFreaky Fridaystyle), the mile-long walk in eerie darkness was bound to feel unpleasant once the air turned cold enough to hurt your face.I was also beginning to think that the facility was indeed haunted, despite Lydia and Caroline’s reassurances.McKinley Rink creaked and moaned like it was inhabited by noisy spirits, and there was a strange smell of must and something slightly spoiled that no amount ofair freshener could fix.Anyone who knew anything about ghosts knew that strange smells signified a malevolent presence.
Worst of all was the refrigeration system for the rink.Our first few days of practice, the ice had been so brittle it was nearly impossible to make a decent hockey stop.But after several days, the building started to grow humid, transforming the rink into a choppy mess of snow.Every morning when I arrived at practice, the fury inside me blazed a little bit hotter.Today was no exception.The ice was in a rough enough state that our scrimmage had devolved into chaos.I was convinced that either the thermostat had a mind of its own or the ghosts wanted us to suffer.
“Last shot!”Coach yelled, voice echoing across the rink.
Thankfully, Lydia took pity on us and slammed a shot that ricocheted off the side of the goal post.I had no doubt it would have gone in if the ice were in better condition.
“All right, ladies, let’s bring it in.”
All twenty-three players gathered around Coach Riley.She was a formidable woman built with lean muscle and teeming with endless hockey knowledge.Though I’d only known her for a few weeks, I liked her attitude and coaching style.We meshed well.
“We’re lifting heavy tomorrow.I want to see every single one of you with a foam roller before and after practice.Our first matchup is a week away, ladies, and I want us to be ready.”
My teammates were quiet as we set off toward the locker room to shower and change.Despite my growing anticipation for our first game, all I could focus on was the fact that we’d had another lackluster scrimmage due to the state of our rink.This team was great, but our training facility was holding us back.We needed the best conditions to prepare for our upcomingmatches.
“What’s that look on your face, new girl?”
Dena, who mainly went by Big D (I had yet to learn how she’d earned that particular nickname), was watching me from across the locker room, her right eyebrow raised in a questioning arch.At left wing, she made up the final part of the forward line.Caroline and a junior named Pearson served as our blueliners with Liv, another transfer student like me, likely to start at goalie.
“I’m struggling to wrap my head around the fact that we have to practice in this dump.How are we supposed to prepare for a game in these conditions?I’ve skated on ponds better than this rink.”
Mumbles of agreement broke out across the room.Clearly, I wasn’t the only one severely disappointed with our circumstances.
“I’ve already spoken to Coach about the issue.There’s nothing she can do,” said Caroline.
“I might go crazy if I don’t saysomething,” I admitted.
The look on Caroline’s face was clear; she knew exactly how the conversation would go and had little faith that it would do any good.
Lydia gave me an encouraging smile all the same.“Go easy on Coach, okay?It’s not her fault we’re stuck with this shitty rink.”
I waited for most of the girls to clear out before I knocked on the office door and entered.The windowless room felt more like a closet that an office, the fluorescent light above head flickering as I slipped inside the tiny space.Coach Riley motioned for me to sit down at the armchair in front of her desk.
“I don’t understand why we’re forced to practice here,” I said, the words spilling out of me before I could finish loweringmyself into the chair.“This place is a dump, and I’m not just talking about the ice quality; it’s the lifting equipment too.Those machines are a day away from crumbling into a pile of rust.”The minuscule weight room in the basement of the facility looked like it hadn’t been updated in over fifteen years.Most of us girls chose to train in the student gym that was accessible to non-athletes, even if it meant lifting at strange hours to avoid the crowds.
Coach Riley glanced down at her notepad, jotting something down on the paper.I couldn’t tell if it was related to my complaints or if she was artfully avoiding my gaze.After a few seconds of awkward silence, she finally met my eyes, her lips pressed together in a thin line.Her expression told me everything I needed to know: this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have.
“I’m sorry, Grace, but this facility is the best we have.”She spoke slowly, voice low.It made me think she was trying to keep her composure.
I refused to give up so easily.“It doesn’t make sense.The men have access to one of the best hockey facilities in the country, which also happens to havetworinks.Why can’t they share it with us?”
She let out a dejected sigh.“I understand your frustration, but this matter has already been discussed with the athletic director and Dean Adler.They have inspected this facility and ensured that it provides all the same amenities asDuLane Arena.”
“And the extra rink?”
“Is apparently used by more than just the men’s team.They host student classes there and open it up to the public some days.”
In other words, it was more important to give the public access than the school’sfemaleteam.
