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Shooting practice today. You need skates that protect your feet better.
It was stupid. This was stupid. I was a professional ice-skater.
You were a professional ice-skater.
Shut up. Inner voices sucked sometimes.
They were skates. Nothing scary about them.
Except they didn’t have a toe pick.
Toe pick wasn’t just a line from the greatest movie of all time. It was about that instant stop.
It was about control. I didn’t realize until just this moment that I had a thing about control. In that I really, really liked it. Needed it.
If I got hit in the ankle by a puck slapped by one of the Bruisers, I’d be in a cast. So, hockey skates made total sense. Perfect sense. Nothing to be scared about.
I changed into my gear and headed down to the ice where some of the guys were already doing their porn stretches.
The skates felt weird on my feet, but so would any skates that I hadn’t broken in yet. I held onto the boards and let my feet glide back and forth, trying to get the feel of them. Ankle mobility was shit, but that was the sacrifice for protection.
“Hey, you good?”
I lifted my head and saw Coach McKay making his way toward me. Instantly, I let go of the boards and pushed myself forward to meet him.
Yes, this was fine. I could do this, even on strange skates. There was nothing to be worried about.
Smiling, McKay pointed at the guys. “Look what you’ve done.”
Out there in front of the home net, half the guys were doing the foot work routine from yesterday, passing the puck. Smith was singing the song off-key and at the top of his lungs.
It was awful.
It was amazing.
Novek sprinted across center ice to steal a puck from O’Rourke. They scrambled for a second and Dillon swooped in and peeled it off Novek.
“Come on, I want you to work on some speed drills,” McKay said.
“With you?” I asked. I hadn’t been incorporated into the main practice. This was new.
“That’s how it works,” McKay said, and blew his whistle, gathering the team.
“What’s next,” Novek said. “More dancing?”
McKay ignored him and split the team. He took the forwards. I took defense.
Which meant I had Ron and Skalsberg.
I was fine on these skates. I had no problem with them. They were already starting to feel like extensions of my feet.
What if I can’t stop?
Stupid. Of course I could stop. I knew how to use an edge. This was old nervous shit bubbling up to the surface. Like after the accident, when I started walking again for the first time and I would wonder if my legs would hold me up.
Of course, they would.
“Hey, Coach!”
