Page 1 of Barn Burner
Part One
August
1
Brayden
I’m not the type of guy who runs away from my problems. I prefer to tackle them head-on. Nip it in the bud before it has time to fester and grow into something unmanageable.
But right now, that guy is nowhere to be seen. He seemed to have disappeared the second the buzzer sounded and declared Toronto the Stanley Cup Champions, leaving us to watch on as the rug was ripped from beneath our skates.
I’ve only ever been to the playoffs once before, but that time, we didn’t make it past the first round. I was gutted, and I’m not ashamed to admit I may have cried once or twice, but this season, we went all the way.
Final round. Game six.
It had been a tough slog throughout the series. The team was being hit with injury after injury, and our penalty minutes were stacking up higher than an epic game of Jenga.
I was so hopeful this was going to be our year. My chance at lifting the Cup above my head.
But like in any game of Jenga, the stack can come crashing down at any point, and man, did we crashhard.
Even now, six weeks on, I still can’t believe we fucking lost. The wound is still open. Sore and tender, no matter what I try and do to heal it.
I keep replaying it through my mind and watching the tape, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, but the simple thing is… our defense didn’t turn up, and as for us offensive players? We might as well have stayed in the locker room with our feet up, sipping on a tasty smoothie, because we had zero impact on the ice. Sure, we were dealing with so many injuries that our training staff was working overtime. We were battling for the win while running on empty, but in the end, our determination simply wasn’t enough.
And it fucking sucks.
I had that delicious, shiny carrot dangled in front of me, and I wanted itso bad. Only it was snatched away, and someone else got to enjoy the taste.
So now, instead of dealing with my heartbreak, I’m running into the wilderness.
I thought I was managing my emotions just fine. That I had squashed the devastation down deep enough that I could carry on and recharge my optimism for next season. It turns out I was putting on a brave face, because if I didn’t acknowledge my feelings, then they didn’t exist, right? Joke’s on me, though, because the second my brother, Jude, left to catch his flight back to England to prepare for the start of his Premier League season, I fell apart like a lousy piece of flat-pack furniture.
So instead of getting over it like any other grown-up professional athlete would do, I packed my car with some camping and hiking gear and decided the only way to shake off my disappointment was to get into nature. To touch some fucking grass and remind myself that there’s more to life than the game that I’ve dedicated my life to.
I find there’s something so grounding about being outside. Even as a kid, I would set up a tent in the back garden or create a makeshift den in the woods behind our house. If I wasn’t playing hockey, whether it be in the street or on the ice, I was outside. Rain or shine. Waking up to the sound of the birds singing or the low whistle of the wind against the sides of a tent. The crisp, fresh air filling my lungs with every breath, bringing me back down to earth.
Being on the ice or out on a hiking trail is the only time I feel like I can trulybreathe, and that’s why there’s now an endless stretch of Canadian countryside passing by my car window. Dense forestry lines the roads. Maybe spruce or pine. There are snow-capped mountains in the distance, providing a view outside of my windshield that I’ve only ever seen on a postcard. It’s gorgeous. Peaceful. But the further I travel away from the city, the more unsure I get. Coach Keller is going to kick my ass if he finds out what I’m about to do.
Fuck, am I really doing this?
It was a great idea this morning when the walls of my house felt like they were closing in. Now, I’m forty minutes heading southwest from Calgary, and I’ve not passed a single vehicle in at least ten minutes. I don’t really have a plan. I figured I would find some trails, then either set up camp or find a motel or some kind of lodge to stay in for the night before moving on. I don’t even know if I’ve packed everything I need, but I guess I can always stop at a store to buy more. Knowing me, I’ve probably packed fifty pairs of socks and only two pairs of pants. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“This is what you need,” I tell myself, tapping my fingers against the leather steering wheel. “An off-season adventure.”
This is what I wanted, after all. The real reason I signed with the Calgary Bobcats at the start of the season. Moving from the hustle and bustle of New York City, where I’ve livedsince I was drafted at eighteen to the more relaxed, very green Calgary. I’ve gone from views of skyscrapers and the Hudson to the picturesque landscape of the Rocky Mountains and being surrounded by national parks and lakes.
It’s my dream.
If only I could feel happy about it.
“Send a message to Jude,” I say to my built-in Bluetooth system.
“What would you like to send to Jude?”my car responds in its crisp automated tone.
“Hey, mate. If you don’t hear from me for a few days, just know I’m alright. I decided to finally go exploring, and I don’t know what the signal will be like.” I rub over my jaw before adding, “I just needed to get out the house, you know?”
The system reads it back to me, and I’m glad it can’t pick up the bleak tone of my voice. Once I give my approval to send, the sounding “whoosh” echoes through the otherwise quiet vehicle.
