Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 7
Bain
The visiting team’s locker room in Ottawa emanates an aura of fierce competition. The walls are adorned with motivational quotes and pictures of their past victories, a definite rubbing of our noses. I sit on the bench in front of my cubby and put on my skates. My teammates are all getting their gear on as we prepare for this crucial game against the Cougars. The air is charged with anticipation as each player mentally prepares for the challenge that lies ahead.
Despite the loss the night before last, we’re closing the gap against Ottawa who stands at the top of the division. Only one point separates us and a win here tonight will propel us into first.
I take a moment to survey the room, my eyes flicking over the faces of my teammates. Some are deep in their pregame rituals, tapping their sticks against the floor or meditatively visualizing their plays. Others engage in light banter, trying to ease the tension that invariably accompanies such a high-stakes matchup.
I’ve got my own ritual. A routine I’ve been doing since I was a teenager. I have no clue if it puts me in a better place, but I’m afraid to not do the ritual at this point. I take my time lacing up my skates, meticulously pulling one string at a time to tighten them. With every tug, I imagine a skill that’s necessary to be at the top of my game and I visualize the perfection with which I must operate.
Tug. I must be agile and fast.
Tug. My defensive positioning must be fluid.
Tug. I must do everything in my power to disrupt my opponent’s play.
Tug. I must be accurate in my outlet passing.
Tug. I must be willing to sacrifice my body.
I don’t say the same things every time as there are hundreds of micro-skills I have to be perfect at. But the repeated affirmations of my job duties help to get my head in the right space. It helps me clear everything away that is not hockey.
Case in point would be Kiera McGinn. She’s been on my mind pretty much continuously since I first met her, but it’s become almost obsessive since she and I entered into this friends-with-benefits relationship. The last two nights I’ve been to her house and I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors heard us. We’re insatiable around each other and some furniture might have gotten broken. We go at it, once, twice, sometimes three times in an evening. But when we’re done, she says she needs to get to sleep because she has a lot of work to do, and I graciously make my exit since I have practice the next day. There’s no falling asleep in each other’s arms or cuddling. We fuck, we get off and then I get gone.
Exactly like we want it.
And now I’m irritated with myself that I let my brain lose focus. I banish thoughts of Kiera as I jerk my laces loose so I can start again.
Tug, tug, tug. I repeat my affirmations as I tighten my skates and when they’re double-knotted, I’m clear.
Coach West strides into the locker room, his presence commanding the attention of every player. His young face and affable smile belie the coaching genius that he is. His passion for the game is intense, but he’s so caring about his players and has forged deep bonds with all of us. I’ve only been with the Titans for two months, but I know I could go to him with any problem in the world and he’d help me figure it out.
“All right, listen up!” Coach West’s voice booms, instantly quieting the room. “This is a pivotal game for us. I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake, so I won’t bore you with statistics we all know. Ottawa is formidable, there’s no denying it,” Coach West continues, his voice laced with conviction. “But we’ve trained for this. We’ve poured sweat and blood on that ice to get to where we are today. This team has overcome all the odds to have a real shot at the championship. Now is not the time to rest on our laurels. We can’t assume our winning streak will continue and we need to lay our souls down on that ice every goddamn game.”
A roar of approval reverberates through the locker room, my teammates yelling affirmations of Coach’s words.
“Fucking right,” I yell, pounding my fist into the side of my thigh.
“We stick to our game plan, execute with precision and leave nothing to chance,” Coach West emphasizes, his eyes scanning the room, making sure his words reach every player. “This is our moment. Let’s seize it.”
The locker room erupts with a chorus of approval and hands slapping against cubbies. The collective energy surges, entering my body and lighting a fire within me. Every other player in here feels the same.