Page 50 of Axe-identally Married
During the commercial break after an extremely challenging Potpourri category, we ran to the kitchen to load the dishwasher and clean up.
“How are the girls?”
“Brutal,” I admitted while I rinsed my plate. “They are fierce as hell.”
She held out her hand. “Is being back on the ice difficult?”
I shook my head and passed the dish to her to load. “No. It feels normal to be out there. The last year of my life was what felt abnormal. When I lost hockey,” I swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling choked up, “it was like losing a limb. I knew it was gone, but the phantom pain remained, nonetheless. I dreamed about hockey. My body still went through the motions, and my hands would itch to hold a stick.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s really powerful.”
Of all the talents I could have possessed, in Maine, hockey was one of the best. Up here, people loved the sport. And they loved hockey players.
Once I’d made a name for myself, things came easily. My high school teachers congratulated me on goals I’d scored, and I’d never paid for blueberry pie at the diner.
But then it all came crashing down.
TheJeopardytheme song started up, calling us back to the couch.
“This element has the highest atomic number that occurs naturally.”
“What is uranium,”Willa said casually, turning her attention back to me. “I’m happy that you enjoy it.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I said. “I love hockey so much. But I struggled to stay focused, to stay the course. I let my love for it and my ambivalence for everything else fuck me up and turn me into a person I didn’t recognize, only to then ruin any chance at a meaningful future.”
She elbowed me hard. “Stop that.”
We sat silently while the finalJeopardyquestion was read.
Often called the “voice box,” this organ in the human throat plays a crucial role in speech production.
“What is the larynx,” Willa called out before the contestants even began to write. “Now, back to the absurdity you were spewing. Radical honesty?” she asked, though she didn’t wait for me to respond before she gave it to me. “You did not ruin your future. I think you might be catastrophizing.”
I ran my hands through my hair and huffed a breath. Willa didn’t hesitate to call me out on my shit—radical honesty pact or not, I suspected. Often, it was refreshing, knowing she was speaking the truth. But between her and the girls on my hockey team, I did not get a break.
Lowering my focus to the table in front of me, I searched for a way to explain this to her. Why it all hurt so badly. “For most of the guys, hockey is a job. They’re focused and determined, and they push themselves every day.”
She nodded.
“But hockey was more for me. It was a friend, my sole source of self-esteem, the only constant during a chaotic childhood.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Like everything else I’ve ever loved, I pushed it away. I punished myself for loving it too much, and I fucked it all up.”
“That’s a lot to unpack,” she said. “First, let me state for the record that getting injured is not fucking things up. That’s amedical event and was probably outside of your control. Second, as your friend, I’m going to remind you that you have a lot to offer. Also, you have to know that if you want hockey in your life, you can choose to keep it.”
She was right, of course. She always was. It wasn’t the injury. I rubbed my hip absentmindedly. That was the result of not taking care of my body. Not investing in the kind of training, physical therapy, and nutrition required for the physicality of my job.
“I wasn’t strong enough. Mentally,” I admitted. The thing I wasn’t prepared for when I was drafted to the minors? The boredom. Bus rides, plane rides, endless practices, and weightlifting sessions.
And then the downtime. Sitting, waiting, playing video games in a strange, shitty hotel. The game was my life, and every part of my day was structured around it.
“In high school and the three years I spent in college, I lived and breathed hockey. But that was my choice. I still had to go to class, do homework and laundry, all the normal stuff. But back then, hockey was the bright spot in my day. The motivation I needed when I had to be out of bed at five a.m. to deadlift.”
“In Florida, though, I was bored out of my skull. Things were different in the minors. Every day, you’re up and you’re down. You’re traded and moved from place to place. It’s not worth getting attached to anyone or anything, because it’s all temporary. Mentally, it wore on me. Day after day, month after month.”
A long winter of travel, practice, weights, stretching, protein shake, game tape, repeat.
