Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
With two minutes left on the clock, we had our best opportunity yet.
Ty stole the puck on a breakaway and went screaming down the right lane for the goal. I skated behind him, ready if he needed me. The low left corner was the goalie’s weak spot. On a one-on-one situation, he’d go right. I didn’t have to tell Ty. He was better at reading the opponent than anyone. He knew what he had to do.
The rink echoed with raucous cheering, and I’d bet big money every single person here was on their feet as Ty pulled his stick back and took his best shot. The puck ricocheted off the goalie’s pads and hit my stick.
Now it was all me. There was no time to think. I was surrounded on all sides. I flicked it in for a one-timer and hoped for the best—and boom! The lamp lit and baby, we had our first goal of the night!
My teammates whooped, tapping my helmet and my stick, cheering my name along with everyone in Smithton.
“Lang-ley, Lang-ley, Lang-ley…”
I hammed it up, skating the perimeter of the rink with my arms raised, soaking up the love. And if my grin got a little out of control when I got to Rafe’s section, well…that couldn’t be helped.
Sadly, my goal wasn’t enough to win it. We needed one more and we didn’t pull it off. Northwestern won the shoot-out and moved on to the next round.
Smithton’s season was officially over and I’d just played my final game as a college athlete.
I braced for a wave of panic, fear, or melancholy, very aware of my unmedicated state. I’d been sober for a month, dealing with everyday bullshit with a plastic smile and teeth clenched. Okay, lately it hadn’t been so bad, thanks to Rafe. But it was still an ongoing struggle, and I expected big feelings to unmoor my unsteady grip. Disappointment, devastation.
But I was okay.
I hugged my teammates, gave conciliatory shoulder rubs, and geared up to give a postgame pep talk. This couldn’t be my ordinary “win some, lose some, let’s get wrecked” spiel. After everything we’d been through, I owed it to them to put a little thought into my words. Hell, I owed it to myself.
Once everyone had gathered in the locker room in varying states of undress, I whistled to get their attention.
“Yo, listen up. That was a tough loss. I get it. I know we all wish this was our year to win the championship, and it’s hard knowing we came close,” I began, tugging at the towel draped around my neck.
“Aren’t you supposed to be making us feel better, Cap?” some smartass griped without heat.
I waited for the strained laughter to peter out. “I don’t know…maybe I am, but I think it’s more important to list a few facts. Some of you will be back next season, some of you will play while you’re stackin’ up another degree in grad school, and one of us is goin’ to the pros.”
“Go, Ty!”
I tossed my towel at Ty, chuckling as our teammates chanted his name, the smiles returning to their faces.
“Yo, dingdongs. I’m not done here.” I plucked at my sweat-stained jersey to give my hands something to do and continued. “For some of us, like me, this is it. Am I sad? Yeah, I wish I could stay at Smithton indefinitely. Fuck knows I’ve tried.”
“Captain for life!”
“Sounds sweet,” I admitted. “I think it’s time to pass the baton and move on. I don’t want to get too serious, but I want you to know that playing with you all has been a fucking honor. You’re good people, great teammates, and I’m damn lucky to call you my friends.”
“Lang-ley, Lang-ley, Lang-ley!”
I pumped a fist in the air, and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Bears on three!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
“Bears!”
We took the celebration…or commiseration party to Vincento’s. It seemed as if the entire town showed up for pizza, weak beer, and garlic balls. Vincento Junior and Senior personally greeted the hockey team, set us up with the best tables in the house, and treated us like kings.
I kept an eye out for Rafe while I revisited highlights from the game with my friends. I thought I spotted him at the front of the restaurant, but when I looked again, he was gone. That was okay. I had to be present tonight. I sipped Coke, ate my body weight in greasy pizza, and reveled in the sense of community.
Everyone in this town supported us. Everyone rooted for us. Everyone wished us well. Just being here felt like being showered in uncomplicated kindness.
That had to be why I’d stayed so long. Smithton felt like home.
Coach Beekman sidled next to me, clinking his glass to mine. “You had a good game tonight.”
“Thanks. I wish we could have sneaked in another couple of goals.”