Page 58 of The Trade Deadline
So Lars started coming up with a plan. A plan where he’d…he wasn’t sure, exactly, but he would do his best to prove to Ryan that he was absolutely worth it. That he was awesome and deserved the good things he wanted for himself. That he was a valuable human being and incredible hockey player and fuck whoever thought otherwise (even if that person was Ryan himself).
Now, if Ryan decided later on that Lars was the one not worth it, Lars could accept that and take the rejection as gracefully as he could.
Step one of his plan: boost Ryan’s hockey confidence. Lars had already been working on this all season. He felt he’d made decent strides in getting the Blue Crabs to see Ryan’s talent, and it annoyed him just a smidge that the only one it hadn’t worked on was Ryan.
“This game is going to be dull,” Lars said in the tunnel. They were about to play the Manitoba Aviators who’d, gently put, “hadn’t been doing well.” They sucked, unfortunately, and were riddled with injuries. They were near the bottom of the league and on the backend of a road trip that no doubt had left them exhausted as they’d been beaten by the Terrors, the Militia, and the Riveters in quick succession.
“Don’t you jinx us,” Bergsy said. It was both joking and stern. He was clearly concerned about the bad luck Lars was calling down upon them, and either didn’t want to appear concerned or didn’t think he could actually scold Lars about it.
“No such things as jinxes,” Vorny said, causing a stir of incredulous laughs and looks. Like all goaltenders, Vorny was notoriously superstitious. But one of his superstitions appeared to be not acknowledging his superstitions. Go figure.
While the rest of the team erupted in a cacophony of examples for and against luck existing, Lars pulled Ryan aside. “Let’s play a game.”
Ryan’s face scrunched in confusion. “A hockey game? Because I don’t know how to tell you that one’s about to start?—”
“No. Well, yes, but I meant we should play a game while we play.”
“A game within a game,” Ryan deadpanned. “Gameception?”
Now it was Lars’s turn to make a bewildered face. “What?”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll watch that movie on the next road trip. What game do you have in mind?”
Lars perked up, pleased that Ryan was not only on board for Lars’s idea, but that he was already planning out their in-flight entertainment for the upcoming weekend. “Let’s play Follow the Leader. I’m out first, so I’ll do something during my shift that I want you to try and duplicate.”
“So if you drop the gloves and fight some random guy, I gotta try to do the same on my shift?”
“Yes, exactly. Though I probably won’t fight anyone.”
“Anders hasn’t been traded to the Aviators, so it does seem unlikely.” Ryan hesitated. “And what if I can’t do whatever you did?”
Lars shrugged. “Then it’ll be your turn to do something and then I’ll try to match it. Just try not to block too many shots, I’m not good at that.”
Ryan considered a moment. “Are we keeping score…?”
“If you want to. It’s just for fun.” He tapped Ryan’s skate with the blade of his stick. “Like I said, this’ll be an easy game. We’re just trying to keep ourselves entertained.” He took off his right glove and offered his hand to Ryan. “Loser buys dinner?”
“There are easier ways to get a free meal,” Ryan joked, but he shook Lars’s hand. “Loser buys dinner. Don’t pick any place too fancy.”
In the first shift, Lars didn't get a chance to do much. He did a completely unnecessary between-the-legs move that let him get around someone and get a shot off. Ryan’s attempt wasn’t as successful—the puck didn’t quite make it through his feet—but Lars could tell it was more because Ryan had never tried it than because he wouldn’t be good at it.
Over the first period, Lars tried a few other flashy moves that were regular parts of his repertoire but that he knew Ryan shied away from. Despite Ryan’s complaints, they were relatively even. Lars wasn’t always successful on his own attempts, and sometimes Ryan pulled off a move better than he had.
The last shift of the period, Lars never got the puck, so it was Ryan’s turn to set the stage. He ended his shift by launching a shot right off the face-off that almost took the goalie by surprise.
“You won it to yourself,” Lars said with an exaggerated pout.
“And shot it.”
“You’ve seen my numbers. You could’ve just won it and that’d’ve been hard enough for me to do.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “You’re not that bad. You won, like, two today.”
“Ha! Did you just chirp me? Besides, I’ll have you know, I’ve won three of the seven I’ve taken.”
“Wow, that’s not bad.”
“You’ve won all of yours, haven’t you?”
