Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Wow, I think to myself. I rub my playoff beard and try not to roll my eyes. “Um.” I fold my arms in front of me. “Lots went wrong. We were in a good spot, being up three to one. They won the power play every time, and we had trouble with the power kill. It gave them the lifeline they needed, and at the end of the day, the better team won.” I shrug. There is nothing else I can say. There is a fuck ton I’m thinking, but nothing I’m going to say out loud, especially not to reporters.
I’ve been here before. It’s been the same story for the past seven fucking years. And every single year, I hope it’s different. I hope that whatever fucking monkey is on the team is thrown off.
The next question is for Leo, and he does the same thing as me. Scratching his face, he looks at the reporter. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says. “I don’t know. We needed to be better, and we weren’t.”
“Dylan, the playoffs can be brutal. It seems that every year you come up empty-handed, even though you were the leading scorer of the whole season. Actually, for the past five years the two of you were either one and two. How frustrating is it?”
“Yeah,” I say, and although I want to tell them to fuck off, I can hear my father in my head and also my grandfather. Whatever you do, never ever let them know they got to you. I swallow. “Obviously, it’s unfortunate. It’s something we have to take in and sit down over the next couple of days and discuss what we can do going forward.” I look at the reporters and then look over at Leo. “It’s one thing to be the top scorer in the league. It’s another thing to play in the playoffs. It’s the best of seven games, and no matter how many times you ask me or Leo or anyone else on the team, we lost, period. There is no right or wrong way to say it. The other team was better.” My tone never goes up or down. “They won. We lost. You can spin the questions, and you can change the words, but that is the only answer we have.” I tap my finger on the table. “It’s been a long night, guys.” I get up, and Leo follows my moves. “I’m sure we don’t have the answers to all the questions you have. At the end of the night, we lost. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m sure there will be more questions.” I tuck my chair in. “So let’s get some rest, and we can answer all the questions in the next couple of days.” I look over at Leo. “Night, boys,” I say, and we walk out of the room.
“I don’t know why they can’t just take us outside and kick us in the balls,” Leo says, and I slap his shoulder.
“That would be too easy,” I reply and can hear music coming from the small locker room where Edmonton is partying. “It sucks to lose,” I observe, walking back to our lockers. “It sucks even more when you lose in your own house.” I slap his shoulder and squeeze it. “It is always a pleasure playing with you,” I say, and he just nods at me. I’m sure he wants to ask me what I mean, and I have to admit that all I need to do is get out of here before I say something I’ll regret. I walk back into the room and can hear the other team celebrating as I grab my wallet, phone, and keys. Leo looks at me and nods as I walk out, not saying anything to anyone.
I get into the car, and it takes me fifteen minutes to get out of the parking lot of the arena and in front of my driveway. The phone in my hand pings every five seconds, but I don’t even have the energy to answer anyone. The phone rings in my hand, and I walk up the first two steps. I stop on the third step when I see the brown bag in front of my door with the M logo on it.
My heart speeds up in my chest while I grab the bag and walk into the empty house. Every single light is off, and the silence is almost deafening. I bring the bag up to my bedroom, the phone beeping in my hand yet again.
I look down and see that I have over fifty text messages, no doubt from my family, but the one from Alex is on the top. Alexandra, the spitfire, and also my best friend. I mean, when she’s not telling me to fuck off, which lately has been happening more and more.