Page 37 of Facing the Line

Cooper gets low, stick at the ready, and Evan and I flank him. Everything freezes until the ref drops the puck, and then it happens in fast-forward.

The rapid pace is something I love about hockey. It forces my brain to focus on the game play and nothing else, no distractions have time to creep in. It’s like working in the emergency room or dealing with a crisis—it requires my all and lights me up inside.

I’m having trouble with my attention tonight, though. I played in the National Championship game last year, but I wasn’t stressed. Why has the pressure intensified? Is it the game? Or is it me?

I never thought playing this game was something that could be my career. Would I still love it as much if it were my job? If I was traded and suddenly playing with strangers? Do I want to give up nursing for it? My course load is heavy, it might take me five years at Harrison as it is. If I decide to go pro, I will still get my degree, but I won’t take the time to study for the HESI exam right now. Could I go pro? Just because scouts are looking doesn’t guarantee I’d make it out of the minor leagues. Hunter was drafted, but who knows what will happen there. It should be him out here, not me. Should I?—

A whoop from Coach snaps me out of my thoughts. Cooper gets the puck and moves down the ice. I elbow the Bobcat forward guarding me and race after him, scanning the space for an opening.

There. Cooper and Evan move to the right, distracting the goalie. He lets himself get pulled out of the net because it looks like Cooper is going to shoot.

But instead, Cooper passes to me, like we practiced. Elation fills my chest, the tension lifting from my shoulders. I can see it all play out. This is going to be epic.

My stick connects with the puck from Cooper, and I send it towards the open net. I hold my breath, and the whole stadium pauses with me.

I’m poised to celebrate?—

But the puck glances off the left post and goes flying into the boards. How could I have missed that shot? It was wide open. I knew exactly what needed to happen, and we had gone over the moves a million times.

My heart sinks as the Bobcats take the puck and skate towards their goal. The buzzer sounds to end the period before they can do anything, but I’m still in shock.

That shot was supposed to go in. End the game and the pressure.

Cooper skates up to me and pats my shoulder. “Tough break, man, but you’re doing awesome.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. That was an easy shot. A peewee player could have put the biscuit in the basket after that pass you dished up. I could have?—”

“Nope, we’re not doing that. No regrets, leave everything out here.” He gazes into my eyes. “We give one hundred percent and do our best. That’s all anyone can ask. And it’s not over yet.”

We huddle around the bench, and Hunter—unable to play but still with us—gives a pep talk and some great pointers. I try not to zone out, but my hands shake with nerves inside my gloves.

Overtime hockey is three-on-three for five minutes. It’s considered sudden death, so we play until someone scores. If we’re still tied when the clock runs out, then we’d go into a shootout. But I want to end this as soon as possible.

Coach Russell stares from Cooper, to me, to Evan. “Are you too tired to go back out there? Because you damn well better be honest if you are.”

We all shake our heads. I’m too amped up to be tired.

“Adam?” He asks, looking at our goalie “You good?”

“Yep, Coach. A brick wall back there.” He smirks, and his cockiness helps take the edge off. Yeah, we can do this. Confidence swells behind my sternum.

After putting our sticks in and cheering our name, we skate back out for the face off. I smile at the forward across the circle from me.

Bring it, Bobcats. We can handle whatever you put out.

I stare down the Quinnipiac player across from me during the face off. We jostle for position, and freeze. Everything comes to a halt in the entire stadium as we wait for the ref to drop the puck. I take a breath, ready and in the zone. The snap of Cooper’s stick echoes as he scrambles with the Bobcat forward, both trying to gain purchase. I keep my eyes glued to the action, low in my skates.

After fighting for it, Cooper wins the puck drop and passes to me. I glance around my periphery, but I’m hemmed in, no opening to the net. Orange flashes in my vision and I pass to Evan—but he’s not there. The puck soars wide, and I miss him by at least a foot. The Bobcat player I was grinning at earlier swipes it, sends it soaring to another player, and he shoots it into the net before it registers. It all happens so fast, it takes my brain a second to catch up.

Adam falls trying to get it, but he’s a day late and a dollar short. I’m stuck in place as the Quinnipiac players throw off their helmets and hug each other on center ice.

That’s it. That’s the game. Overtime only lasted ten seconds.

Evan tugs me to the boards, out of the way, and it’s all too much at once. I slump, landing on my butt, legs splayed out in front of me. Through my pants and padding, the cold seeps in. He stares at me, his eyes reflecting the despair and disbelief that I feel.

“We’re gonna be okay. Somehow. But you need to get up. We’re Griffins, and we can handle this.”

“But—that shot I missed…” I whisper, but he still hears me in the roaring arena.

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