Page 75 of In The Game

“Come on, boys, let’s push!” I shout to the line, running it up the boards. We’ve got five minutes left in the game.

My name gets called and I get back out there for whatever number shift this is of the night. Lonan does a stellar deke to Sully, and I get into position, my third attempt on goal is blocked.Goddamn it.Kucera sends it around the net, but the pass to Banks is intercepted.

We chase down the puck, but their rookie is carrying well and we’re struggling to gain possession. Banks gets in front of it, ready to capture and flip, but their D-man hooks his handle with his skate. We wait for the refs to call but it’s radio silence. What in the actual fuck is happening with these calls tonight? Coach is screaming from the bench.

“You pregnant, stripes? You’ve missed the last two fucking periods!” I shout. We’re getting railed by these refs.

Another shift change and we get a second to cool off and regain our focus.

“That’s bullshit. We need another official,” Coach shouts from behind me.

“Shake it off, bud,” I say to Banks when he slides next to me. He doesn’t say anything, he’s stewing. I can’t blame him.

When our line is back up, the first thing Banksy does is gun it for their defenseman and drop gloves.Shit.The rest of us grab a buddy player from the opposite side, as much as we all want to gang up on their guy Harris for his hooking, we need to keep it clean.

“Don’t go too far, man.”

Again, we wait for the refs to step in, but they are doing fuck all to break it up.

“Banks!” Sully shouts, he’s a little closer than I am. We drop our guys and go to pull Banks off the guy. If the refs aren’t gonna do their job, then we’ll do it for them. Half a second before we get to him, he knocks the guy’s helmet off and gets him right in the fucking teeth. Blood sprays onto the ice.

“Goddamn it!”

We yank him back, but it’s an automatic penalty. We’re fucked. I swear to Christ that was a setup.

Banks goes into the sin bin and we fight for our fucking lives on a power play. We dig deep but it’s not enough, with three minutes left, they get one on goal. The horn sounds and the Seattle fans lose their minds. Brush it off, brush it off. A lot can happen in the time left.

The next three minutes are hell on earth. We give it everything we have; I see it in the face of every guy on the ice. When the final buzzer sounds, we’re lifeless and defeated. It’s over. Round four is gone. I look at Sully and throw my arms around him. He looks rough. We played well tonight, but we went up against a solid team and some refs that need to be fined. I’m sure the Lakes will file for disciplinary action.

The team has the decency to give Sully a send-off. As the announcers give a synopsis of his career, I’m the one getting emotional. Fuck, I can’t believe the next game I play will be without him. We’ve been playing together a long ass time. I’ve been so busy thinking about how he will feel after his last game I didn’t take the time to prepare for not playing alongside him. He’s been my closest friend for years. The only one who understands the job and has been with me since my rookie days.

We go through the line, shaking hands, and Sully gets more hugs than handshakes from the opposing team. Lee Sullivan has gained a ton of respect during his career. He’s a powerful player, but an even more powerful leader. Every hockey stick clacks on the ice. He waves to the stands, thanks the fans, especially the ones that followed us here. Shortly after, they announce the retirement of number nine for the Lakes team.

“A true class act,” an announcer comments. He is. Normally when a player skates his last game, his family is in the box. But we’ve been Sully’s family. There’s no woman or kids in the box waiting to give him a hug when he comes off the ice. It’s us. Hockey has always been his focus, it’s his life. That dedication made him a hell of a captain. He’s a man of few words, so he hasn’t mentioned what his plans are. I think it’s because he doesn’t have any.

If Raleigh pushes me away, is this what my future looks like too? Playing my last game with no one in the stands for me to go home to? I don’t want it to be that way. There’s more to life than hockey. What comes after this stage in our lives is important too.

Sully and I aren’t that old, but we’re pushing forty. And while having an exceptional career in the NHL is the dream, it’s not everything. There’s likely another forty years left to live after retirement. I don’t want to spend them alone. There has to be more to life than hockey, somebody to share it with. If there’s no other love besides this sport in your life, then where does that leave you when it’s time to hang up your number?

TWENTY-NINE

“Wow, Mom. You look really pretty.”

I turn and cock my head to the side. “I look like I always do.”

“No, you look extra pretty today. It’s different than how you normally are.”

I double-check my reflection in the mirror. I don’t lookthatdifferent, but maybe I spent a little longer on my hair today, and I tried out a new mascara. I adjust the light wrap sweater, and twist to check my backside—at least my ass looks great.

“I always look pretty.” I nudge his shoulder with my hip. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup! I have my picture right here.” He holds out the drawing he made.

“Where’s your shoes?”

“I dunno.”

What is it with kids and fucking shoes? It’s like they repel each other.

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