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Camden
There have beencountless studies on the psychology of professional athletes. What is that extra “something” they have that propels them to elite status?
Sure, you must have talent, which needs to be developed, and you must have strength, which comes with hard work. But those two things alone, even if mastered, will never ensure your success.
For me, there’s something centered deep within that I have to tap into. It’s a layered well of confidence, ego, desire and pure determination to prove to myself that I’m the best I can be. I bring that mentality to every aspect of my life because being a professional hockey player isn’t just stepping out in front of adoring fans screaming my name. It’s every minute of every hour of every day. It’s the way I eat, sleep and work out. It’s the way I meditate and the care I extend to my body. It’s the loyalty to my teammates to play my best for them and it’s the fans you never want to let down.
Somewhere in this past year, I’ve lost something. This season hasn’t been my best, and Coach West has been trying to figure me out. There’s absolutely no physical reason I should be a second off a pass or allow someone to get the jump on me.
Which means it’s a mental issue, and there’s no doubt my psyche has taken a bit of a beating since the crash. My mistake was not giving my mental health the same care and hard work that I give the rest of myself as an elite athlete.
The mistake wasn’t made right off the bat. I did quite well when we built the new team and my play was excellent. In hindsight, that was a combination of pure adrenaline and a driving need to keep my mind occupied that led to my game play staying elevated. If I couldn’t think about the crash and what I’d lost, I could operate in a bubble. By hyperfocusing on the new team and my career, I shoved the dark tragedy down deep.
It worked until it didn’t.
Summer came, and without the hectic pace of an active season, I had time to think and that wasn’t such a good thing. I began to tabulate all the things I had truly lost. By the time our season rolled back around, I had gotten too much into my head, and it showed in my game performance. All of it culminated in me missing a practice, something that embarrasses me deeply. It also put me at a crossroads. I could continue as is, possibly ruining my career, or I could confront my demons. While I’m not averse to therapy, I’d rather not do it. That’s probably just some male jackassery, thinking myself tough enough to figure this out on my own.
Tonight as I step onto the ice for our game against the Carolina Cold Fury, I can tell I’ve got my mojo back. Physically, I feel stronger… faster. But honestly, I think that stems from the fact that my headspace has calmed. Everything seems on point, every pass I make crisp and on the money. My spirit seems connected to the game and I enjoy the feel of the nerves causing my stomach to flip and pitch. I’m hyped up to get the win. The game no longer seems oppressive but rather euphoric.
And it’s all because of Danica.
There’s absolutely no other explanation.
And I’m not talking about the amazing sex, although that does make me feel really good. But for the first time since the crash, I’ve opened up to someone about my feelings. She has made me feel so comfortable by acknowledging that I was allowed to be hurt by the loss. That I don’t have to be so strong and that it’s natural to have some guilt. I think one of the things that has helped me the most, though, is seeing how Danica has flourished despite her losses. Travis, too, for that matter. It’s not to say they’re not missing Mitch because I know they are.
But watching Danica reinvent her life has been an eye-opener for me. She had to learn to take care of herself and Travis financially. She had to make big decisions and let go of a lifestyle she was accustomed to. She gave up all her luxuries to keep her kid in a good school. She got a job without really knowing what she was doing or if she would be successful. Danica did all of this while mourning the loss of her husband. If she can be this strong, so can I.
I admire her so fucking much and I’m not an idiot. I know that part of the reason she’s been able to do the things she’s done is because she’s been open about her pain, embraced others in the same situation and she’s accepted help, care and love from like individuals. She had a support system that I didn’t take advantage of and I’m thinking it made all the difference.
Because I like her so much and because she’s such a genuine, down-to-earth woman, it’s not been difficult to talk with her about the crash. Granted, I’ve had to ease into it, but when I have a shitty day from a rush of survivor’s guilt, I can tell Danica without judgment. She doesn’t think me weak but rather self-aware, which is strength. At least that’s what she told me.
As I skate around the rink for our warm-up, I know I should be in full game mode, but I can’t help when my thoughts drift to Danica. She’s not here at the game because it’s a school night.
But she did tell me something that has me feeling like a strutting peacock. “All of my cheers tonight are for you.”
Those were her last words before she gave me a goodbye kiss and left my apartment yesterday. I know when that puck drops in fifteen minutes, she’ll be glued to her TV along with Travis. Knowing that I’ve got a personal cheerleader, someone who is going to be proud of my successes and supportive of my failures makes all the difference in the world out here on the ice. I know without a doubt I’m going to have a great game tonight.
♦
The crowd atMario’s is shoulder to shoulder. We defeated the Cold Fury 4–2 and yours truly had a goal and an assist. After the game, Coach West clapped me on the shoulder and said, “I don’t know what the fuck has changed in your life, but whatever it is, it’s working.”
It’s Danica, Coach. That’s what’s changed.
But I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell any of these people celebrating with me here tonight. I’m going to assume that if this thing continues with Danica, we’ll have to come out to others. We’re not there yet, and that’s only because all of this is so new. Danica, I’m sure, will have no problems but I’m still feeling a certain amount of guilt because of who Danica is.
A member of the Titans’ family before the crash.
Wife to a player.
Wife to my teammate, linemate and friend.
I’m confident there’s going to be judgment. I don’t know how much or who it will come from. And I don’t want to cause waves on this team. We’re going into the latter half of the season rolling like a locomotive, plowing down our opponents. We have momentum and a spirit within us that can make us contenders for the Cup this year. And if my team thinks it’s wrong of me to be with Danica and it hurts the team mentality because I dented the morality, I’ll never forgive myself for crushing everyone else’s dream.
Someone gives me a light punch to my biceps and I turn from the bar where I just ordered a beer.
It’s Bain, his hand held out. “What’s up, star of the game?” I grasp it sideways and he pulls me into a half hug. “You were on fire tonight.”
“It sure as shit felt good.” I grab my beer and follow Bain through the crowd.
