Page 6 of Power Play

“See you tonight,” he calls as the door swings shut behind him. I sigh.

Relaxing will be the last thing on my mind with Levi Buck back in town.

CHAPTERTHREE

levi

“There area lot of folks saying that the game against D.C. last month should have been the last for Levi Buck, left wing for the Spokane Storm,”says Denny Lee, one of my favorite sportscasters.

“There sure are,”chimes in Kenny Thompson, the other host ofKenny and Denny in the Morning.I really shouldn’t watch these. I never watch coverage on myself or the team. But it’s been different for the last few days.

“Buck is set to retire at the end of this season, which will be in just a few weeks. But sources say that Buck has been counseled by the team physician and league executives to consider retiring early. Following his last on-ice concussion, the fifth of his NHL career—many are calling for him to call it quits now,”says Kenny.

“But Buck says he’s finishing off the season. He’s currently on medical leave for the next seven weeks, and if he’s cleared, he’ll play his last game against the Drifters, the same team he played when he sustained the injury. What do you think of that, Kenny?”Denny asks.

But just before Denny goes on a rant about how I should quit while I’m ahead, a big, long hand slams my laptop shut.

“Stop listening to that shit, man,” Roy says. He plops down in the seat across from me. “This decision is between you and your doctors. Who gives a shit what a bunch of assholes in suits and ties, who’ve never stepped foot on the ice, have to say?”

I smile and nod. Roy is our goalie. He was traded to the Storm three years ago, and my happiest years on this team have been since he joined. I’ve been playing for Spokane since my rookie year, twelve years ago. Man, to have the knees of a twenty-year-old again.

But despite my creaky joints, I’m not mentally ready to hang up the skates.

My body—my head, mostly—has decided otherwise. I’ve had five concussions since I started my professional career—and many more than that in my lifetime. This last one, though…that was a doozy. Started with a cheap shot from Eric Leray, defenseman for the Drifters. We’ve been going at it since the beginning of time, and that game was no different.

Except that it could have killed me.

And effectively ended my career as I know it.

I’ve won the league MVP three out of my twelve years in the league. I’ll never forget the feeling of carrying that Hart Memorial trophy off the ice.

Now, it’ll never happen again.

I’ve seen the CT scans. I understand the risks.

But I can’t go out like this. Not on fucking Leray’s terms. I’m going out on my own. It’s one more game. And then I’ll figure out my next steps.

In fact, I already have some options.

“Look, man,” Roy says, nodding out the window. “You’re home.”

I look out over the wing of the jet to D.C. down below.

Home.

Well, actually, home is about forty miles north in Crooked Creek, Maryland—but close enough. I haven’t been back since we played the Drifters in D.C., which was last season. There’s something so healing about being near my hometown. The game is not for a few days, but I flew in a little early to meet with a few prospective employers. Like I said, I have some options for when the season is over. Plus, I can see my people. I haven’t gotten to do that in years.

Roy is flying in with me. He’s not from here, but he did meet a cute Drifters fan outside the arena last season, and he’s been tied down ever since. He has a few days off between games, so he’s sneaking a quick visit in before he flies back for our next game. I asked him once if he’d ever want to play for the Drifters so he could be closer to Lily. He scoffed and choked on his beer and shot me the dirtiest look I’d ever seen.

“Fuck no,” he said, and I had laughed. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be closer to Lily. He’s never been like this over a girl.

We both knew why.

It was because of Eric Leray.

A few minutes later, we’re touching down at Dulles, and he’s waving goodbye out of the window of Lily’s car. After a few pictures with some diehard fans, I get into my Lyft.

“Holy shit,” the driver says. “Are you Levi Buck?”

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