Looking4Luv12: You’re up early. Does that mean you’re drinking coffee?
StickWhisperer95: Not yet. Still in bed
Looking4Luv12: Did I wake you with my message?
StickWhisperer95: Yeah but I needed to get up anyway
Looking4Luv12: Sorry about that. I get up this early for work
I wanted to ask what he did, but then that would lead to him asking me. I hesitated for a moment, thinking it through because even if I said I played hockey, he wouldn’t know who I was. Maybe this was the step I needed to start to be comfortable to come out to more than just my friends. So, I asked the question.
StickWhisperer95: What do you do?
Looking4Luv12: I’m a trauma nurse at St. Peter’s. You?
For a split second, I thought about Ford and how he’d just been in the hospital, and wondered if this guy had treated him. But Ford wasn’t there for trauma, or what I thought a trauma nurse handled. Did they do surgeries and tend to people with gunshots and car accidents? Stuff like that? But I didn’t want to lie either, given my history with Ford lying to me in the past.
StickWhisperer95: I play hockey
Several minutes passed as I waited to see if he would reply. I got out of bed, slipped on my pajama pants, and went to the bathroom to relieve myself. By the time I went to the kitchen to start a cup of coffee, he finally responded.
Looking4Luv12: Am I talking to a Bruins player?
I turned and leaned against the counter as I replied.
StickWhisperer95: I didn’t say that
Looking4Luv12: Fair enough. I have to get to work now. Have a great day and if you by chance have a game tonight, good luck!
StickWhisperer95: Have a great day as well
Walkinginto the locker room after the second period, we were down by two and I was pissed. Throughout the two periods, Toronto had been delivering cheap shots and coming after us hard. I got it. We were first in our division and they were fourth, but the way they were playing wasn’t the way to go.
“I’m saying it now. If Volkov slashes me one more time, I’m dropping my gloves,” Butcher bellowed as he took a seat in front of his locker.
Everyone nodded, and I was in full agreement. Toronto’s captain was being a dick too, and I wouldn’t mind going toe to toe with Harrison. In fact, we were in our arena and even though I wasn’t much of a fighter, I was going to pump my guys up.
Once back on the ice, we got into position for the puck drop. My eyes locked with Harrison’s and I narrowed mine.Yeah, fucker. It’s on.
As soon as the ref dropped the puck, I hit it away and then released my stick. My gloves were next, and Harrison did the same.
The crowd erupted as the two of us circled each other, adrenaline pumping through my veins. The referees stepped back, giving us the okay, and we took it.
Harrison lunged at me and threw the first punch, but I dodged it, feeling the rush of wind as his fist sailed past my face. I countered with a quick jab to his ribs. We traded blows, each punch connecting against the other person. He was no pushover; he retaliated with a powerful uppercut that grazed my chin. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but I pressed on.
I could hear my teammates from the bench as they shouted their encouragement, banging their sticks against the boards.
As the fight reached its peak, I landed a solid hook that sent Harrison staggering. He fell to the ice, and I didn’t hesitate as I lurched and threw my fist at his face again, delivering my final blow.
A referee stepped in, signaling the end of the fight. I stood up, panting, and I could taste the blood on my lip, but I was victorious.
Before I skated to the penalty box, Butcher clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s how you do it, Captain.”
As I watched from the box, it seemed my fight had the desired effect and motivated my teammates because they scored less than two minutes into the five-minute penalty.
Once I was back on the ice, I wasted no time, and within seconds, I scored the tying goal. Minutes later, I could still feel the adrenaline from the fight. As the seconds ticked down, I found Sexton as he was open and sent him the puck. He took the shot and the sound of the goal horn was music to my ears.
Once I was backin the locker room after doing the post-game interviews and stuff, I was still riding a high. It wasn’t just from the win or even from my fight. I felt different. More alive, even, and maybe that was why, once the thought entered my mind, I went with it.
