Page 75 of Playing the Player

Conor

There’s something different about game night, especially when it’s on home ice. The atmosphere buzzes long before the puck ever touches the ice. Friends and family fill the stands, a sea of red jerseys fill the stands, and the roar of the crowd rattles through the concrete before we even leave the locker room.

There’s added pressure when playing at home. Nobody wants to let their fans down. But that’s exactly what drives us to be better.

I would have to argue that we have the best fans in the NHL. It doesn’t matter if we’re sitting at the top of the league, or clawing our way out of a losing streak, they always show up. Every single time.

They don’t just watch the game. They become a part of it. When thousands of people are chanting your name, there’s no feeling quite like it.

If you would have told me at thirteen years old that I would be here right now, skating onto NHL ice wearing a Florida Flames jersey while an entire arena cheered for me, I would have laughed in your face.

Now? I still have to pinch myself. The feeling is surreal. It makes me feel alive.

“Listen up!” Coach’s voice cuts through the chatter in the locker room. “I need a solid sixty minutes tonight. Smart hockey. No sloppy passes, no stupid mistakes, no bullshit and no penalties.” His glare settles on Knight. “That means you.”

Knight raises both hands innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

A chorus of laughter fills the room. “You never do.” Knight is notorious for fighting with the opposing team, even though his only job is to stand in the goal and not let the puck in.

Coach shakes his head before stepping aside. “You know I’m not good at these pep talks so I’ll let your captain take it away.”

Josh stands from his seat on the bench, and just like that the room falls silent. That’s what makes him a great captain. He doesn’t have to demand respect. He’s already earned it from every man in here.

“We’ve all been watching this team play for a long time now.” He says, calm and confident. “They’re fast. They’re physical. But so are we.” He grips his stick tighter in his gloved hand. “They’ll try to drag us into their game. Cheap hits. Dirty plays. They’ll do whatever they can to get under our skin.” A few heads nod. “So don’t let them.” His voice hardens. “We play our hockey. Our game. We play together.” He raises his stick in the air. “And we fucking win!”

“Yes Cap!” The room erupts as sticks hammer against the floor. The sound echoes through my chest, settling deep.

Game time.

The second I step into the tunnel, everything else disappears. This is where my head clears. The crowd erupts as we step onto the ice, but instead of overwhelming me, it settles me.

During a game, I have to stay concentrated. If I let that focus slip even once, it could fuck up my entire play and I can’t let that happen. The whole team would suffer if I did. So I focus on the familiar things. The scrape of steel against the hard surface. The cold air filling my lungs. The vibration beneath my skates. The smell of the fresh ice.

Soon, everything else fades away.

Cap goes to the middle of ice to face off with the opposing team’s center. The linesman speaks to both players, explaining the rules as if we haven’t done this thousands of times before, and then drops the puck. Cap hits the puck first, sending it flying across the ice to Michaelson, and we’re off.

Michaelson is quickly intercepted by the team in blue, who pass the puck back up the ice to where Knight is waiting in the goal.

Johnson, our defenseman, easily swipes the puck off the other player, passing it to me. Control. Precision. That’s what is needed when I have the puck in my possession. Skating down the ice, a blue defenseman is on me, his shoulder smashing against mine and sending us both barreling into the boards but I’ve already passed the puck off to Woods. I shake off the hit, moving to the bench for the first line change.

Forty seconds and I’ll be back on the ice with my team and forty seconds to change the game.

Coach taps my shoulder and I’m vaulting over the boards, blades biting the fresh ice as I skate towards our end where the puck is being passed rapidly between players. Michaelson taps the puck behind the net. It bounces off the boards, falling into perfect line with Woods who scoops it up, snaps the shot and… pad save.

The rebound lands in my lap, I swing once and it’s in. My teammates are piling onto me before the buzzer even sounds. One step closer to the win and one step closer to the cup.

I knew this team was dirty playing bastards but I hadn’t anticipated how bad it would get. Shoving our team any chance they get, boarding our players, constantly off-side. These refs must be blind as shit if they can’t see any of this going on. Not one player in that team has got a penalty and our team has had multiple for stupid shit.

We’re in the third period and down by one point. The blue team is getting defensive, not letting us get anywhere near their net. They’re playing rougher than they did at the start, desperate for the win.

They have the puck now, passing it down the ice so fast that if you blink, you’ll miss it. This team is faster than us. That’s just one more thing we’ll need to add on the list to work on. Dammit, Sasha’s lists are rubbing off on me! I wonder where she is in the stands. Is she watching me right now or watching the puck? Get her out of your head, Matthews. Focus.

One of the players rounds the net, passing the puck off to a player at the front and he shoots it towards the goal and… Knight stops it. Thank fuck. What a save. I would argue that Knight is one of the best goalies in the league, but I might be a little biased.

Puck drop again, the blue team wins it this time. Hopping off the bench, I skate to center ice. The second Johnson swipes the puck off the other team, I’m gone. Three hard strides up the boards, stick on the ice. Their defenseman glances at me for half a second and that’s all Woods needs to cut through the middle, stealing the puck and charging towards the goal. He passes it to Michaelson, who shoots it towards the goal, and-

FUCK!