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Walking in through the back door of the arena feels different today. I’m psyched, but also feel like I might vomit from nerves. I enter the locker room and notice the change here too. There’s a big energy shift. I’m not the first one to arrive but not the last. I’m sure the rest of the boys will be here soon.
Our goalies are getting their eyes focused for the game—Kapucik is juggling tennis balls and Strassburg is bouncing them off the wall at close range. Ryan Bishop, one of our centers, is backed into a corner with his eyes closed, meditating. Jonesy and Banks, our wingers, are kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the hall. Barrett Conway and Lee Sullivan, the captains, are going through plays and talking with the coach. Everybody has their own thing.
I drop down to the seat in front of my stall and sit back to tape my stick heel-to-toe. As I wrap it, I think about all the drills we’ve run and try to manifest a win tonight. Imagining the sounds of goal horns and visualizing the puck. They wouldn’t be starting me tonight if I wasn’t ready. I’ve earned my sweater.
Lonan walks in shortly after on the phone. Conway tosses me a puck to scrape across my tape job.
“Nervous, bud?”
I furrow my eyebrows lightly. “Nah. I’m ready.”
“You’ll get out there and things will fall into place. The worst part is the build-up—especially since it’s your first one. Once the puck drops, everything will settle into place, and your instincts will take over. You got this.”
“Thanks, man.”
I grab the tape again to wrap the stick knob and then put on my gear and continue my visualizations. After Coach goes over some video clips of plays and gives a speech, it’s time to head out onto the ice for warm-ups.
The crowd is amped tonight. It feels nothing like the preseason games. This is wild. I mean, it’s the first official game of the season, so of course they are. The team turns a lot more easygoing during warm-ups—singing along to the music playing over the sound system and cracking jokes while we stretch. As soon as some of the guys start doing groin stretches there’s a whoop from female fans. I look out to the stands to see a bunch of camera phones recording and homemade signs unfolding, referencing “hardcore pucking” and “sticking it in their five-hole.” I cock my head at Conway and mouthwhat the fuckwhile gesturing to the crowd.
He shrugs. “Booktok. It’s a thing now.”
Jones explains there’s an entire romance book genre based on hockey players. What a time to be alive. We make a few laps and then Banks calls me in.
“Rook, you’re on pucks.”
I skate over the net and line them up next to Strassburg. We fist bump our gloves, and I snap pucks for them to shoot as they skate by, collecting the deflected ones on my stick. I wonder how many years I’ll be on puck duty. After a few dozen shots, Sully comes over and sends some out for me, and I get a couple in the net.
“Shit, Strass. Rookie might make you collect pucks next time,” Sully hollers.
I laugh it off, but that comment is the added confidence I need to start the night. Coach calls us back into the locker room. We get our speech from the staff and then it’s back out for the national anthem and puck drop. My knees are shaky, but I know I’ll be solid during my shift. Lonan and I are partners tonight, our shifts will swap with Dopson and Burmeister.
Banksy heads to center for the drop, and Strass scrapes up the ice behind me. Banks crouches down into position, mirroring the Phillies’ center. The ref leans over, and once the puck hits the ice, it’s on. Like Conway said, everything falls into place. First period, I skate my ass off and protect my corner. I’ve knocked it off the boards more times than I can count, and after many shift changes, twenty minutes pass like nothing. We head into the locker room, some guys gear down while others walk around or hit the bikes. Some are relaxing, but my adrenaline is way too high for that.
Second period we have a corner faceoff, Conway gets in front of it and snaps it to me, I backhand it to Sully, and he sends it in. The horn screams.Holy shit.We got a goal on the faceoff, and I made the assist. Even though Sully made the goal, the guys all slap my helmet too.
“Atta boy, Rook!”
“Kucera, baby!”
This is the greatest feeling.I love my job.
We finish out the period with no more goals, but I don’t let any pucks get past me.
By the third, I’m pouring sweat. Philly gets one in the net. It wasn’t my shift, but it easily could have been, they made a good play. Burmeister, the other left defenseman, skates toward the bench, and I’m back on the ice for another forty-five seconds of speed skating. And speed stopping.
The puck is back in my corner, and after fishing around with the other guys, I’m able to deke it back and send it up to Conway. He makes a few plays with the other forwards and snaps it in about halfway through third period. I shift out and keep Philly from getting any by me before the buzzer sounds. We won 2-1. It’s a great way to start the season. The energy in the arena is insane.
Making it back into the locker room, there’s a lot of celebration.
“You’re coming out tonight, Kucera! We’re celebrating that assist!” Jonesy hollers as he unties his skates.
I grin back at him as I work on my laces. “Yeah, okay.”
“Rookie’s finally coming out, boys!” There’s a few more hollers, and I use the rest of my strength to yank the skate off my foot. I pull my jersey over my head and untie my breezers. This must be the hockey player equivalent of taking a bra off. I jump on the stationary bike and pedal with low resistance to cool off from the game.
Lonan jumps on the one next to me and congratulates me on my assist. I had a blast playing defense with him tonight. I’m quieter than some of the rowdy guys, but everyone has made me feel welcome.
