Page 31 of Icing on the Cake

With the new season upon us, the boys are back on the ice and looking to defend their title. Practices are in full swing, and let metell you, the sound of skates cutting through ice is sweeter than a pumpkin spice latte.

Speaking of sweet, some of you may remember my first blog post of the semester: “Gerard Gunnarson’s Butt: A Cheeky Appreciation Post.” Who knew that one little homage to the most famous derrière on campus would cause such a stir?

So, how has our humble hero handled all this publicity? According to not only my sources but also the man himself, Gerard has taken it all in stride—much like he takes everything else—with that trademark Gunnarson grace. But that doesn’t mean he’s escaped unscathed. The locker room banter has been especially brutal—and by brutal, I mean hilarious.

It all started this afternoon when the team arrived at Infinity Arena. They peeled off their clothes, ready to don the blue and white for tonight’s season opener. Gerard was sitting at his locker, fiddling with his jockstrap, when Drew Larney strolled over with his phone in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yo, G-man. Have you seen the latest comments on the Ice Queen’s blog? Someone started a petition to get your ass its own zip code.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and smiled. “Fiddlesticks. I thought they were going to name a state after it.”

Kyle Graham chimed in from across the room. “Make sure you update your résumé, Gerard. ‘Professional Model for Yoga Pants’ is a solid backup career.”

Not to be left out, freshman defenseman Nathan Paisley—sporting his trademark pink hair—added his two cents. “I hearLululemon is desperate to sign you as their new brand ambassador.”

The ribbing continued, with various teammates offering unsolicited advice on squat techniques and protein intake, until Coach Donovan came in and told them to get their heads out of Gerard’s ass and into game mode. Quite frankly, I couldn’t have said it better myself.

While the attention on Gerard’s glorious glutes is all in good fun, they have to focus. There’ll be plenty of time after they win tonight to discuss whether Gerard’s hockey pants make his ass look big.

But if they desperately need an answer, they know who to ask!

Until next time.

Ice Queen skating off!

7

GERARD

There’s a reason why I’m considered one of the best NCAA Division I Men’s Ice Hockeypower forwards of the last decade. As I propel myself down the ice, I have the innate ability to keep one eye on every player and the other on the path ahead.

I’m so in tune with the game that I’m pretty sure I could do it with my eyes closed. But I won’t test that theory tonight. We’re only ten minutes into the first period, but I can already tell that this is going to be an extremely close game.

The team we’re up against tonight is the North Shore Academy Vikings. They’re no joke. Over the past few seasons, they’ve built a roster that’s deep with talent.

Guys like Landon Hayes and Connor Mills are starting to get the same kind of attention that Drew and I have been getting. Sportscasters are even predicting that a few of them might go pro straight out of college.

It ticks me off.

Not because they’re good—we respect good players—but because we worked our butts off to get here. The Barracudas have been an elite program for decades, and now these upstarts think they can waltz in and take our throne?

No way. Not on my watch.

I steal a glance at the scoreboard. Still 0-0. My legs are burning from the constant sprints, but there’s no time to let up. Every shift counts. Every play could be the one that breaks the game open.

Coach calls for a line change, and I glide over to the bench, tapping gloves with my teammates as I take a seat. Drew plops down next to me, breathing heavily and grinning like an idiot.

Back on the ice, our second line is grinding hard. Jordan Chase wins a face-off, and Will Dixon rips a shot from the point, but the Vikings’ goalie snags it with his glove. The kid’s hot tonight, and that’s trouble for us.

Five minutes later, the ref blows the whistle, and I’m back on my feet, stretching out my quads and cracking my neck side to side. Drew stands and adjusts his helmet.

“Let’s show these kids how it’s done, G-man.”

We hop over the boards as Jordan and Will take a seat. After the ref drops the puck, Drew snags it, passing it to me.

I take off down the ice like a missile, deking around two defenders before dishing it to Oliver. He gives us his best slapshot that ricochets off the post with a clang that echoes through the arena.

So close.

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