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Not today, not tomorrow, not in this lifetime.
Arden
“Dude, you have to quit beating yourself up over that shot,” Nils, my friend and linemate, says as he crosses his arms over his wide chest. “The playoffs are behind us now. Let’s just focus on next season.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” I grind out as I ready my stick to take a shot at a foam target in the lower-left corner of a practice net I have set up in my driveway.
Every day since our playoff run ended, I drag the net, a couple of sticks, and a few practice street hockey balls to use in place of pucks out of my garage.
I then set everything up so I can practice hitting shots from every distance and angle I can think of.
That adds up toa lotof shots.
Yeah, I’m not missing an easy one next time. I’ll be ready for anything the hockey gods can think to throw at me.
Like this shot I’m about to take.
Yeah, I’m a few feet out and to the right of the net. This one is different from the one I botched in game seven. I don’t like to practice that one too much, as I always seem to miss or, worse yet, hit the fucking post.
That, of course, just reminds me of my fuckup.
Angry about it now, I hit the ball with all I got, easily knocking back the target.
I raise my stick. “Yes, you fucker! Now that’s a goal!” Looking over at Nils, I add more quietly, “I didn’t miss that one, eh?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You are relentless, man. Quit torturing yourself.”
I blow out a breath. “You know what? You’re right.” I lean my stick against the net. “That’s enough for today. Let’s go around back and relax for a while. I just put up an umbrella over the table back there. That’ll keep us shaded from the sun.”
“Sounds good to me,” Nils says, looking relieved that I’m done practicing in the driveway.
I am too. It was nice of him to stop by. I don’t need to keep boring him by making him watch me take endless shots. Plus, it’s getting hot out, and I’m thirsty as fuck.
With the sun beating down on us, he has to be too.
“You want some water?” I ask him as we head around back.
He replies, “Yeah, sure.”
When we reach the stone table with the umbrella, Nils pulls out a cushioned chair.
Turning away, I say, “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, cool.”
While he takes a seat, I run into the house to grab two bottles of water.
When I return, I hand him one and sit down across from him.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Not a problem.”
Motioning with his water bottle beyond my expansive backyard to where the thick surrounding woods begin, he asks, “Is all that undeveloped property out there yours too?”
“Most of it is,” I share. “And where mine ends, Hayden and Addison’s property begins.”
“Ah, got it.” He nods. “That’s nice. So it’s just you guys out here, then?”
