Page 23 of Hockey 101

Professional hockey does, but not college hockey, Joy replies.

Phew. Not only for the sake of Jack’s handsome profile, but because it’s bad enough that I have to write about hockey without adding boxing too.

I’ve decided to take a crack at writing about tonight’s game myself. Since it’s exhibition, I figure that not that many people will read it.

Luckily, there aren’t that many goals to keep track of. And there are breaks that allow me to decipher my notes and start drafting my story. The Mustangs win, 2-1, and everyone in the arena seems happy.

Are you going to the dressing room to do interviews now? Emily asks with an eagerness that suggests she’d like to come along.

I wrinkle my nose. Good Lord, no. Why would I do that?

Hockey stories usually have quotes from the players. Stuff like how they played, the importance of the game, how their goals happened, Joy says.

Walking into a room full of post-exertion jocks is as appealing as entering one of Dante’s circles of hell. I imagine the foul body odours and even fouler language, and shudder.

Then an even worse thought occurs to me. Would they even be dressed?

We can always hope. Emily raises crossed fingers.

That seems…improper. Hopefully, I can avoid doing that all season, I say. Let’s go. I need to write this up and post it tonight.

However, once I start writing, there’s not enough content. I’m using previous hockey stories as a template, but I’m still not knowledgeable enough to really describe the details that went into each goal. Besides, I barely saw what happened, and only wrote down who scored and who helped. Ugh. I’m going to have to do some background research to flesh out this stupid story.

8

ATHLETIC PROTECTOR

JACK

WINNING OUR EXHIBITION game was a good start. Then, we had to wait a week until the first game of the regular season. Portage College rolled into town and spanked us 7-2. It sucks big time, and the mood in the dressing room afterwards is tense. Our team hasn’t gelled yet. Players are trying too hard to be the hero rather than trusting their linemates. It’ll come, it always does. But the faster we can learn to play as a team, the better.

There’s a reporter from the Messenger who wants permission to come in and do post-game interviews, Coach Greene announces. Did you want time to cool down first?

Some guys groan. Nobody wants to talk about what went wrong tonight.

Ethan scowls. Why the fuck is he even asking? Last year he just walked in.

Wait. Grant Schmidt, one of our alternate captains, holds up a hand. Is this the guy that wrote about last week’s game? That was the worst piece of shit I’ve ever read.

He pulls out his phone. It was like he’d never even seen a game before. He started out with a history of the fucking arena. Like, who gives a shit? Schmidty shakes his head in disgust. He barely described the plays leading up to each goal. Also, get this, he called one goal a score, for fuck’s sake. And he said the game was divided into quarters, instead of three periods. It’s straight-up disrespectful to find someone who knows fuck-all about hockey and give them the most important reporting assignment in the whole college.

Schmidty yanks off his chest protector and crosses his arms over his massive chest. Yeah, send that idiot in. I want a few words with him.

Some of the guys laugh nastily. This is going to be a show.

Coach Greene smirks and nods. Okay, boys. Get ready.

I pull off my hockey pants and put on my slides. No reporter is going to want to talk to me. Losses get handled by the leadership group of the team, and I’m just a newbie. Besides, I played better than last week, when I was still sweating alcohol out of my pores.

I’m towelling off my neck when I hear a weird noise, like the yip of a dog that’s had its tail stepped on.

The whole room goes eerily quiet.

Schmidty’s voice is an octave higher than normal. You’re Andy Robson?

Oh, shit. I turn quickly and see her standing in the middle of a room full of naked and semi-naked guys. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes dart around the room. I step towards her instantly.

Hold up guys. I put an arm around Andy and guide her back out. I yell over my shoulder, Ten minutes for everyone to get decent.

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