Page 125 of One Good Puck
The ref announces the penalties for both Del and McCoy. When he gives Del more time for initiating the fight, I shake my head, pissed off.
“Are you blind, ref? McCoy started this whole thing by hooking my player. You just gonna ignore that?” I holler at the official when he skates by our bench.
The players I’m standing behind turn to look at me. I’m not the kind of coach who starts shit with the officials. If Ihave an issue with their calls, I speak with them respectfully. I get heated sometimes, but I manage to keep it under control. Not after all the bullshit I’ve observed tonight though.
The ref skids to a stop, then turns to me, glaring. “I’m gonna let that one slide since you don’t normally give us attitude. But if you keep that up, Coach, I’m tossing you out of here.”
Jason lays a hand on my shoulder. “Easy.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw aching with how hard I’m biting down. This is fucking infuriating.
I turn around and see Abby sitting behind the Bashers bench, looking concerned as she watches the game with Bella and Maya.
When she looks at me, her expression eases. “The refs suck,” she mouths to me. I let a small smile break free, and the tension in my muscles eases a bit.
Play resumes with two minutes left in the second period. The score is three to two with us down a goal.
After scuffling with a Calgary defenseman, Ryker takes possession of the puck and heads for their net. Another defenseman checks him, throwing him off balance, but Ryker recovers and manages to keep the puck. A second later, McCoy comes up behind him and checks him with his stick. Ryker falls forward, losing his balance. He falls head-first into the boards, his neck landing at a weird angle.
He lies flat on the ice, his face twisted in pain. The refs blow the whistle.
“What the hell was that?” I holler.
Theo goes after McCoy, tossing his gloves off, grabbing his jersey, and punching him. Another Calgary player tries to go after Theo, but Del tackles him. A full-on brawl breaks out between all the players on the ice. The officialsstruggle to break it up, but after a couple of minutes, they finally separate everyone.
The trainers from our team rush out to help Ryker, who’s still lying on the ice, groaning.
My heart pounds as I hold my breath. The way his neck took the brunt of that hit looked brutal. This could be a serious injury.
The trainers help Ryker to his feet. When I see him skating on his own toward our bench, I let out a breath. It’s a good sign that he’s moving okay. That means it’s probably not a spinal injury. He’s still cradling the side of his neck though.
Ryker sits at the end of the bench while one of the physical therapists examines him. Ryker winces as the PT presses around.
“You need to see the team doctor,” he trainer says.
“I’m fine. My neck’s just a little sore.”
The trainer shakes his head. “We don’t mess around with neck injuries, St. George. You need to see Dr. Porter.”
“Fine,” Ryker mutters before walking down the tunnel toward the medical room.
One of the refs heads to center ice and announces that McCoy has been thrown out of the game.
“Fucking finally,” I mutter.
When the second period ends, both teams make their way down the tunnel and through the hall to their respective locker rooms.
I walk by the visitor locker room and see McCoy standing in the open doorway.
“Hey, Coach Porter. How’d you like my performance out there on the ice? A little rough, huh?” He smirks.
I don’t say anything in response. I just glare at him and keep walking, flanked by my players.
“Will you tell your girlfriend hi for me?” I stop walking and turn back to look at him. Every muscle in my body twitches with the urge to kick the shit out of him.
He just laughs. “Actually, why don’t you give her a kiss for me?”
In a split second, I clear the space between us and slam my arm against his throat, pinning him to the wall, then punch him in the gut with my other fist. He falls to the floor with a groan.
