Page 147 of Unrivaled Love
My parents slow dancing by the tree.
The kids playing with their gifts.
My family and hers grinning at the camera; looking rosy cheeked and wind burnt after a day of skiing.
My bones ache with a longing to be there with them. This is the most unbearable pain of this sport. Yes our bodies are bruised and sore for two thirds of the year. Yes, we push ourselves to our physical limit for 60 minutes every game. But what hurts the most, I’m realizing, is seeing non-hockey life continue without you.
I hold a breath in my chest as I scroll through the images again.
Jo is radiating happiness. Her smile is wide. Her posture looks relaxed. Selfishly, it hurts not to share it with her, with all of them, but, unselfishly, I am so glad she got this timewith the family.
***
“Do I have to?” Crosby whines.
“Yes!” A few guys cheer.
“Absolutely.” Duncan says, punctuating the word by slamming his fist into his palm.
“C’mon Crocs.” I loop an arm over his shoulder. “You lost, fair and square.”
“Betting over Slap Jack shouldn’t count.”
“You were the one who raised the bet when you thought you had me!” Duncan taunts. “And then I staged the most epic comeback in the history of the game.”
“And nowyouhave to wear the tighty whities.” I tell him as I hold out the double XL pair we made Luke go pick up at the superstore.
A few of the guys in the locker room snicker. The bet was whoever lost the game would have to wear the offending underwear somewhere on their person during warmups tonight. It must be visible to the naked eye and when asked about it they must say the other person is the undisputed King of Slap Jack.
Crosby grumbles about it but he’s a good sport as he goes for the kill and steps into the undies and slides them up over his pants. I have to admit, this is a new one for me. In all my years of hockey I haven’t seen a grown man in full gear with bright white briefs over the top. He looks ridiculous.
The only saving grace is we’re in our away whites tonight so at first glance it kind of looks like his jersey is too long.
And looped between his legs.
Crosby walks past us down the hall to get to the ice and the snickers from the boys make this more than worth it. We let him head out for warmups first and give him a few laps before the rest of the team joins him on the ice. I can only imagine what type of retaliation he’s plotting.
But the team vibes are high. The group feels good. And win, or lose, this is a core memory for everyone who witnesses it.
***
“You gotta get to the front of the net when we’re cycling.” Coach Bradford tells me over my shoulder. I nod and slide over as E.T. crashes over the boards.
“Fuck they’re locked in tonight.” He says breathless. “I keep trying to get the near side defense to collapse but they’re keeping their zone coverage strong.”
“I know.” I nod as I use a towel to wipe my visor and face before handing it back over my shoulder to Luke. “Coach said I need to crash the net.”
“You’re thinking of a dirty goal?” E.T. asks and we slide over again to let Felix onto the bench.
“Boys, we gotta crack them.” He says as he looks up at the scoreboard. Eight minutes left in the third. A lifetime in a hockey game. We’re tied one each and with the stalemate we’ve been in against Denver tonight I think the next goal wins it.
Crosby and Duncan switch and slide in. The five of us will be out together for the next shift. I fucking love when our top D line and top O line hit the ice as one. It’s like a goddamn ballet or flash mob or perfectly executed social media dance.
Poetry in motion.
“Go!” Coach Bradford yells out and my eyes snap to the ice. Johnny is coming in for a switch and that means I’m up.
I stand, hop over the boards and glide out to join the team. Seconds later Felix and Emmett join me and we get into position to bring the puck into the zone.
