Page 17 of Slapshot
My gaze flits to Lex gliding across the ice, a look of determination and intense focus. It’s commendable, but it’s not enough. “He’d say there’s only so much of your own time you should waste helping a person before you cut them loose.”
Another family motto, the most important one, always prioritize what’s best for yourself first.
7
Lex
“Hey. Going for a run?” Tate asks Monday morning when I stumble into the kitchen before dawn. He and Maggie are standing hip to hip next to the sink, drinking coffee out of matching green mugs.
“Yeah. What are you guys doing?”
“Gotta go out to the farm this morning.” Tate’s a local. So is his girlfriend Maggie. They have neighboring family farms just outside of town.
“Will you be back before weightlifting?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Probably be back before you’re done with your run. How far are you going today?” He asks me and then looks to Maggie. “He ran six miles yesterday on our off day and then went to the rink to get in an extra practice.”
“I’m not going that far today.” I grab a glass of water and chug it to help me wake up. “Today I’m doing sprints.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard, rookie,” Tate calls after me as I go out the back door of the house.
I walk around to the front and stretch. Getting up early isn’t my favorite, but with classes all day, then practice, plus the extra sessions I get in with Paxton, this is the only time I have to work on speed training.
My speed is my biggest asset and I work my ass off to maintain it.
I start with some light step-ups using the steps off the front porch. The hockey house, where I live with some of my teammates, is an old Victorian. The wood floors creak, the windows are drafty, and it’s nearly always noisy. Even guys on the team that live elsewhere spend a lot of time here. I love being in the middle of the chaos. And my small room is way cheaper than what I’d be forking over to live in the dorms.
Once my muscles are warm and the cool air has shocked my system awake, I sprint down the middle of the road. It’s too early to worry about traffic, but I’m running faster than any car would be anyway.
I do a lot of variations. Sitting to sprint, split lunge to sprint. Hell, I even do some backward. My thighs are on fire and my throat burns from sucking in the cold air.
There’s something about pushing myself at this level that rids all negative thoughts. I’ve always been good at focusing one-hundred-percent at a single thing. I get shit from the guys for pushing so hard, but hockey is why I’m here. Vermont, Burlington University specifically, is my opportunity to make hockey more than a hobby.
I’m going to get a degree while I’m here but I already know that doing anything but hockey after graduation will feel like I’ve failed.
When I get to the dining hall for breakfast, the guys are already seated at our usual table.
I drop down next to Jonah. He has his phone out and tilts it where I can see. “Watch this! Watch this!”
It’s an old hockey clip. Burlington against Notre Dame. Shoveling in a bite of eggs, I ask, “What year is this?”
“Ninety-nine, I think. That’s Dalager when he played for Burlington.”
I watch as he takes the puck down the ice, dekes out a defender, and then makes a pass that surprises everyone. Even the guy it’s intended for. The guy fumbles it but he’s so wide open that extra second delay doesn’t matter. The goalie is still watching the wrong side of the ice and Moo U scores.
Jonah shakes his head. “He was incredible. Always knew where his teammates were and found a way to get them the puck.”
“Like Pax and Patrick,” I say, still watching the screen. Those two have this freaky ability to read each other’s thoughts. Some sort of twin psychic powers that make them damn hard to defend.
He sets his phone down. “Are you going to be dragging ass for practice today? Heard you were running sprints this morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. But I eat my weight in protein and healthy carbs just in case.
Kirk and Ash join us as I’m pushing back my plate.
“Rookie,” Kirk says with a grin. “Get any more beer poured on you?”
With a chuckle, I shake my head. “Nah.”
