“Thanks,” I say, stepping back as I pull up my suit sleeve to check my watch. “We should get going unless you want to surprise Brandon in the parking lot.”
Big Mike claps his hands together with one crisp impact. “Right. Let’s go! I can’t wait to see his face in the ice.”
Brandon
“You ready, son?” Coach Chris asks as I step out of the locker room and head towards the tunnel where my new teammates are waiting to get on the ice.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say. I can feel and hear my heart beating in my ears.
“One second!” Jules says. She lifts her camera up and starts recording. “Gonna post your rookie lap before the game starts.”
“Great,” I say, trying to give her my best smile. But judging bythe look she gives me, I probably look exactly how I feel. Like I’m going to throw up.
Coach Chris gives me a playful shove and I stumble forward. “Knock ’em dead, kid! Don’t trip!”
“We’re placing bets he does, Coach,” Ryan says, walking up behind Coach Chris wearing a playful, and distractingly handsome, grin. He places his hand on Coach Chris’s shoulder and asks, “You want in?”
I flip Ryan off, and he has the nerve to wink at me before he says, “I’m kidding. No one is betting on you tripping.” One side of his mouth lifts higher than the other, turning his grin into a smirk. “Throwing up, on the other hand, we all have some money on that.”
“He is looking a little green around the gills,” Coach Chris says, gesturing towards my jaw and neck area.
I want to argue, but the truth is, I am feeling a bit queasy.And I’ve been known to throw up before big games in the past.
“Alright,” Danton Foley says, coming over. “Leave Baby alone.” He pats my helmet with his hand, then removes it and holds it up high. He shakes his head. “No bucket.”
“I need that!” I reach and try to grab my helmet out of his hands, but he throws it behind himself, and Ryan catches it.
“It’s only for warmies,” Ryan says.
“Yeah,” Danton says. “We’ll give it back to you before the game starts.”
“Besides,” Ryan says as he tugs at my hair. I reach up and grab the strand he just pulled. It’s been ages since I got my hair cut, but now after getting called up, it’s staying. I’ll shave it all off after I get sent back down. “You gotta let the fans experience this flow.”
“Yeah,” Clemmers agrees. “Let the fans see the flow blowing in the wind. The ladies will love it.”
I try to reach for my helmet again. But Ryan keeps it out of reach by passing it to Ivanov, who’s pushing his way to the front of the line.
“No bucky for Baby,” he says. “Is tradition.”
“Yeah,” Ryan, Roysy, O’Shea, Clemmers, and Danton all say in unison. “It’s tradition!”
“And it’s lucky,” Ryan says, looking right at me.
“Damn it,” I mutter. I’ll never say no to something that can give us an edge, especially a superstitious one.
He gives me a playful shove, pushing me forward. “Front of the line, Baby!”
“You lead us out!” Danton yells, clearing the way for me to walk forward past the rest of my teammates.
As I go, they all find an opportunity to knock me around on my way to the front of the line. There are fist taps to my shoulders, gentle bumps onto the top of my head, pats with a stick onto my backside. It all feels familiar, yet also strikingly like the first time. Which is strange as this is the last time I’ll ever experience a milestone in my career of this size. This is the NHL. There’s no greater league above this to make it to and debut in.
“If possible,” Ivanov says from behind me as I wait at the end of the tunnel for the team to be announced. “Try to throw up in other team’s garbage can.”
Shaking my head, and laughing slightly, I tell him, “Thanks for the tip.”
As the lights dim, I quickly check both of my skates to make sure I don’t have a blade guard on or anything else that would cause me to slam immediately down on my ass out there. They’re clear, in perfect condition. I made sure of that back in the locker room before I put them on. But of course, my superstitious brain never believes that some malevolent mythical rink menace didn’t sabotage me when I wasn’t looking.
Everything is as it should be. There’s no reason to trip and now that I’m facing the ice, breathing in the crisp air, I no longer feel like I’m going to throw up. I take a deep breath. This is it. I only get one rookie lap and I can already hear my new teammates chanting my name.
