Page 13 of Drop the Gloves
Strange how quickly things had changed.They hadn’t played a real game yet (he didn’t know people besides his momwatchedpre-season games anymore), but Barczyk had gone from Enemy Number One to Team Heartthrob.Which, fine, he was objectively attractive even if his mohawk/undercut combo was a bit much, and he needed to find a new tailor to make sure his clothes actually fit.Still, it irked Evan how easily everyone forgot Barczyk was a fucking menace on the ice.
Maybe not so much forgot but were willing to overlook it.He was on their side now, after all, and this seemed to be another thing Riley Barczyk was very good at: putting on a show for the crowd.
When Barczyk spotted him, Evan had to resist the urge to run away.He stood there at the entrance like a good linemate, even held the door open for Barczyk, and followed him into the arena.
“Love the energy out there,” Barczyk said.“Youse really know how to hype up a team with this shit.”
“Yinz,” he corrected.When he saw Barczyk’s confusion, he added, “They don’t sayyouseory’allaround here.It’syinz.”Then he started heading to the player area and away from the madness outside.Even through the doors, he could hear the fans shouting as someone new arrived.
“Oh.”Barczyk rushed to catch up to Evan, falling into step beside him.“Well,yinzreally know how to do opening night.Makes a guy feel special, y’know?”He smiled up at Evan, his missing tooth a mini-void in his mouth.He’d apparently lost it in a fight his rookie year and refused to get it fixed until he retired.Practical, since his face did seem to get hit a lot; he’d just break the replacement.
“The fans do love us,” Evan agreed.This time it was Barczyk who held the door for him as they arrived at the player zone, free from fans and reporters.Enough of the team had already arrived that Evan was able to weasel away from Barczyk without seeming rude, and he enjoyed a pre-game meal with Winchester, Dalton, and Pope.The three of them were the youngest on the team and tended to get stuck together whenever the other guys started talking about wives, girlfriends, and kids.
“You survived the gauntlet,” Dalton teased when Evan sat down at their table.They’d been road roommates last year when Evan was still on his entry contract, so he knew how much opening night messed with Evan’s nerves.
“Somehow,” he agreed.“You guys ready to score some goals tonight?”
The team had a tradition of buying a new watch for whoever scored the first goal of the season, and every year Evan hoped it would be him.He was also terrified of it, because the last thing he needed was an expensive watch to break.That didn’t make him want the honor any less, though.
“Always,” Winchester said.
“I score two goals a season,” Pope grumbled into his meal.He always ate the same thing before a game: a bowl of cereal.The type didn’t matter, only that it was nearly overflowing and soggy.Evan assumed it was some superstition that’d lasted since childhood, but he never asked.No point in asking a hockey player about their routine: there either was no answer or a really stupid one.
“You’re a defenseman,” Evan pointed out.“You do just fine.”
“Did you see him check Zelly during that practice with Coach Mel?”Winchester asked.“I think I dislocated my shoulder just watching him.”
Pope shrugged like he didn’t care, but he had an almost-smile.“Hitting people’s fun.”
Hitting people was not fun, in Evan’s opinion.He’d almost forgotten about Coach Mel’s homework assignment, and now his stomach twisted itself into fresh knots.Evan tried to visualize himself pushing people off the pucks, bodying people in the corners, and hitting people in open ice.If he pictured it enough, maybe he’d do it by accident during the game.
The trick worked.During the first period, someone on the Militia broke off from his defender.He was wheeling out of the left corner, completely open with all the time in the world to make a pass or take a shot.Evan was the closest to him, so he raced over.Without letting himself think about it, he skated through him, their chests colliding and the other guy spinning like a top before going down.The puck bounced harmlessly into the neutral zone.
“Nice work, kid!”Kates called.He’d been the defender who’d gotten burned, and his relief that nothing had happened was palpable.“Now go score or something!”
Evan’s heart pounded, and his skin buzzed.He’d done it!Surely one good physical play early would be enough to call the experiment a success.But any hope he had of coach Mel forgetting about his homework assignment was short-lived.
While she stood at the far end of the bench during the game and never glanced towards him or the rest of the offense, she came by his stall after the first intermission.“Looking better out there,” she said, arms crossed as she stopped in front of him.Like all the coaches, she wore a suit during games.Unlike the other coaches, hers was green to match the Riveters’ home jerseys.“Only one hit so far and no goals.Looks like you owe me four more.”
“Yes, Coach.”He hoped no one heard, and he really hoped he wasn’t blushing too badly.
“Way to cover for Kates,” she continued.She smacked his head with her clipboard, then turned toward the corner where a few defensemen had their stalls.“Kates, you turned the puck over three times that period.Which team you playing for tonight?”she yelled as she walked away.
As soon as she was gone, Barczyk slid over.With their linemate Vassilev off for an interview, there was no buffer between them.“You owe the Coach hits?”he asked with a crooked smile that revealed a dimple.Evan’s eye snagged on the dimple before he looked away in annoyance.
“Something like that,” he grumbled.“Look, I?—”
“You should focus on Number 52.He’s the biggest guy they've got on defense.You two match up pretty well size-wise, but you’re faster.You nudge him a little, get him worked up, and he’ll give you all the space you need to score.”
Evan blinked at him.“It’s just that easy?”
“Yeah, kinda.I mean, he’s a veteran player.You roughing him up won’t get him pissy, but if you run your mouth a little it will.Hehatesit when young guys get the better of him.Call him old man or some shit like that.Just be ready to have a shoving match in front of the crease if you do.”
“Oh.”He wasn’t sure he wanted any of the things Barczyk had said, but he was right about them being the same size.Maybe Evan could use that to meet his check quota.And if Barczyk was right, maybe it would give them some scoring opportunities.“I’ll keep that in mind.”Then begrudgingly, “Thanks.”
Barczyk winked at him and slid back over to his own stall.“Any time, liney.”
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