Page 45 of Riding Pine
Our home opener is finally here.
Not only is it my debut as captain, but it’s Ben’s debut as the mascot at a game. I’m not sure whether I’m more nervous for him or for me.
“Hey, Piney!” Youngblood plunks across from me in the dressing room, wearing nothing but his jock.
“How come you’re not dressed yet? We go on in fifteen minutes forwarm-up.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. Nervous shits. That ever happen to you?”
Burnsy laughs under his breath next to me, and I try to find the right words to reply to the kid. “Well, if it did, I wouldn’t announce it. Just make sure you’re not late.”
“Really? I played with a guy in college who legit described his entire bathroom experience before each game.”
Youngblood opens his mouth to say more, but I cut him off.
“Please never do that.” Good god, what are young players doing these days? When I was younger, it was sex jokes and stories about games you played on the backyard rink. Now they talk about bowel movements? Maybe it’s a good thing I’m almost out of the game.
“Is Ben coming tonight?” Burnsy asks as I turn to my locker and pull my jersey on.
“Yeah, he should be here.”
“Is he sitting with the spouses? I’ll ask Sarah to watch for him.”
He might, but not as Ben.
“He didn’t say. I think he actually has his own ticket, but I told him about the section.”
Not a lie. For the past week, Ben has barely left my apartment. We’ve talked a lot about the first home game and how to handle it. I mentioned the WAG box—wives and girlfriends of players—and how Burnsy and Soupy would expect him to sit there if he came to a game.
Ben, of course, can’t sit there, but he knows he can go there in costume at least. At this level of play, the boxes aren’t that glamorous, but everyone sits together, and it has a semi-private bathroom, which seems to be the most popular reason to spend the game in those seats.
“Well, I hope he can greet you properly after the game at least.”
I just smile and slap my helmet on. I know Ben will greet me properly. Just not at the rink. That would be too risky for him.
“Get out there, boys! Let’s show Bloomburg we’re a different team this year and we’re here to win!”
A chorus of whoops and yells answers me as we all exit the dressing room down the hallway to the ice. It’s only warm-ups, and the arena is half full. Not exactly what I’d hoped, but we’re fighting to win the crowd over. A sellout would be nice, and I know people are late to their seats all the time, but it’s the home opener. I was hoping for more early fans.
The cutting of skate blades and the clacking of pucks on sticks fill the ice surface as we do our pregame routine. Some of us stretch to the side, and some of us run drills, but all of us carry a nervous anticipation of what’s coming.
The first puck drop of a fresh season. A new page in this team’s history is about to start.
Even the loudmouthed Evans is unusually quiet. This is a big deal, and until now, I didn’t notice how much nervous energy I carried. I bet Ben is just as nervous.
“Piney…the warm-up is over, man.”
Burnsy elbows me as he skates by, and I’m still leaning on the boards looking for answers on the rubber-lined floors.
“Yeah, I was just waiting for you,” I lie, and we both laugh.
“We don’t need a huge speech, Lukas. Just enough to get us excited and instill your role.” He taps his stick on my shins, and I follow him down the hall.
We enter the dressing room; chatter sounds among the guys as they talk about literally everything. Random piecesof conversation float around, and I inhale before calling their attention.
“Hey, boys! It’s our first game, and this is a new season. Not just any season. It’s our season!” A chorus of ‘hell-yeahs’ sounds, and I continue. “We can do something that no player before us could do. We can bring home a title to the new ownership in its first year!” More resounding cheers and even Evans nods in affirmation. “I believe in every single one of you here.” When Evans meets my gaze, I nod. Even him. We’re a team, even if I don’t like him. “Let’s play clean and smart. Their goalie is weak when you shoot high, so aim for that top shelf all night, boys! Let’s win game one!”
Feet thump and random calls of support sound as I sink into my stall next to Burnsy.
