Page 16 of Offside

I suppose she has a point. Each player is required to attend a mandatory number of team functions for PR purposes throughout the year. Last year, our PR team sent several to the cancer ward at the local children’s hospital, there was an event for an animal shelter, and they even found a holiday-themed Santa sleigh ride for foster kids.

A charity gala to raise funds for the heart association is part of the call. This way, I can be accompanied by someone who isn’t an actual date. No potential for a romantic entanglement, No other expectations on either side beyond food and good company. Plus, icing on the cake, it would give me the opportunity to get to know one of the players a little more in depth.

The alternative of showing up alone and spending my birthday by myself is too depressing for words. Now I just need to determine who has an open schedule to attend with me. I send Christine a quick text and give her the details of what I need done.

Christine:On it, boss.

7

Ballas - September

Day one of training camp is and always will be the hardest.

But today it’s especially brutal.

After eighteen seasons with the league, my body screams,this is it. It’s the most grueling day on and off the ice I’ve ever experienced.

Or maybe you’re just old as fuck and a fool to keep pushing yourself.

The entire roster of players, including those of us returning to the team, the new rookies, some prospects from the minor league, and a handful of hopefuls, are all here this week to prove their mettle. The camp is a chance for the boys to dust off the skates after a summer of travel and downtime, and for the coaching staff and management to assess where everyone’s at.

We go through fitness evaluations and full physicals, then skills evaluations led by the coaching staff. After all that, Coach Thomas divides us into two groups to break up our practice and scrimmage time on the ice and our strength training. My group is second on the ice, and I’m already sucking wind.

I have no concerns about how I’ll perform with my skills or my stickwork, but damn if my fitness ability and speed isn’t put to the test out here. A guy my age and no longer in his prime going up against these kids who barely shave regularly is going to have it rough.

For the three-on-three, I’m teamed up with Cale and Ax, with Soren Wolfenspiel between the pipes, his practice helmet covered with the Vikings logo and an image of a wolf with silver eyes. It seems fitting since he’s very much a loner from what I hear. He’s new to us this year after our previous goalie got injured and then ended up claimed off waivers by Denver.

Honestly, if they used today’s skate as the sole indicator of my success on the ice this year, I just might be benched for good. At one point, right after a three-on-three scrimmage, Coach Thomas even joked about my “slow legs.” Fuck me. That’s rich coming from a fifty-eight-year-old. But I couldn’t argue because his comment was on point and valid. Guys were skating around me like I was in the slow lane on the highway.

I toss my gear in the bins next to the equipment manager on my way into the locker rooms, wondering if I wouldn’t be better off being tortured and waterboarded in a remote prison rather than going through the taxing skate and endurance trials we were put through today.

I scan the locker room to see if anyone else is out of breath or looks as beat as me. Much to my relief, I notice a few of the guys still panting and dripping with sweat so I know I’m not alone. Fortunately, we’ll get a short rest after showering before we head into the team meeting room for a coaching strategy session and pep talk.

In other words, you guys suck and better work harder.

Nils Lundren, a new forward on the team but a guy I’ve played against in previous seasons, pops a squat on the bench across from me. He tears off his sweat-soaked compression shirt, his chest still heaving from the workout.

“Yo, Lundy. You feeling it as much as I am?” I ask with a forced chuckle.

His eyes pop to mine and dishes it back at me in a deeply Swedish-accented voice. “Not for the same reasons you are. My exhaustion is because I have a new baby who won’t sleep through the night. What’s your excuse?”

Laughing at the ease in his tone and good humor, I cock my thumb and finger at him. “No joke, bro. We all know I’m the decrepit one on the team.”

I stand and grab my shower items, stretching to each side to get the kinks out, and wrap the towel around my waist as Nils walks at my side.

“New baby, huh? That must be hard. You got other kids?”

“Ingrid is the newborn and Elsa is our 2-year-old.” Nils throws his towel up on a hook and steps into the shower stall. “The wife was not happy with the timing of our move.”

I make a face. “Ouch. Yeah, that sucks. But we’re glad you’re here. I think we’ve got a solid chance.”

Nils lifts his brows, turning his head over his shoulder. “As long as I can stay awake and you can keep up.”

I flip him off and finish my shower.

* * *

“Okay boys,settle down and let’s get to it,” Coach Thomas says from his platform at the front of the sloped auditorium-like conference room. “Last year was a dismal way to end the season. I know those on the team fought hard through injuries and the devastating situation with Marvin Spurlock, but this year we need to mobilize and capitalize on our God-given talents so we bring home the Cup for Vancouver. Let’s go, boys. Let’s do it this year!”

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