Pre-game Rituals

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The rest of August and most of September passed quickly, and game day was upon us. Tonight we would play Detroit.

The energy level was high that morning inside the arena as the guys had their morning skate to prepare for the game. Johnston and I pretty much let them run practice themselves as we figured out which lines we wanted. He really wanted Sidney and Geno together, and because I was only the assistant coach, I didn't have much of a say. It turned out that they would be on the same line. I was not pleased with this, and, he said that Greiss would be goalie to start tonight, so I was also infuriated by that choice. Johnston said that this would be a "new era" and that we "couldn't" start it like we used to. This came from the man keeping Crosby and Malkin together, but whatever.

At the end of practice, the guys all walked past me into the locker room. They all seemed a bit nervous, even our veteran players. Bennett wasn't even trying to hide his nerves; he couldn't stop fidgeting. Crosby gave me a serious nod as he walked past and Malkin and Fleury both gave me tight smiles. Bortuzzo wasn't even wearing his trademark grin.

If they were a bit jittery, I was a nervous wreck. This would be my debut as an NHL coach, I had to do a good job. It didn't help that we were playing the Red Wings. I went and sat in my office to look over our plays and the plays and lines the Red Wings had used last year. I wanted to be ready.

A knock came from my outside my door and Crosby stuck his head in, "Hey, Coach."

"Oh, hey, Crosby. Come in," I replied, not looking up from the stuff on my desk.

He came around to my side of the desk to see what I was looking at. He wasn't in his practice jersey anymore. Instead, he was wearing a pair of jeans, a Penguins shirt, and baseball cap. Sidney studied the play book that had thrown up on my desk and laughed, "Come on, Coach! You can't spend every minute until puck drop staring at these! You'll go crazy if you do; trust me, I've done it. You need to get out and unwind a bit before the game."

"But this was always my pre-game ritual," I complained.

"You keep the same ritual from year to year?"

"Yes. Don't you?" I asked, getting defensive.

"No, I change it up with each new season. It's a fresh start. You have to do something new. Come on, we'll make a new ritual together," he pulled me to my feet and handed me my keys. I grabbed my hoodie and followed him out the door.

I started walking to my car. "Where are you going?" Sidney asked.

"To my car," I replied, confused.

"Nope. You always drive, so it's my turn," he dragged me over to his car and opened the door for me.

"How sweet," I teased.

"Shut up," he smirked.

"So where are we going?"

"Out to lunch," was all I got in response; he was being rather cryptic.

Sidney drove us to the outskirts of the city where we stopped at a small Italian restaurant. We sat at a booth in the back, flipping through menus. I was going to have Fettuccini Alfredo, but I had no idea what Sidney would be having.

When the waiter came to get drinks for us, Sidney ordered a water and I got a Shirley Temple, as usual. I saw Sidney grinning behind his menu. "What's so funny?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," he replied, still smiling.

"You're such a liar," I replied, but let it go. "What are you getting?"

"Pizza," he replied, setting his menu down on the table. I raised an eyebrow. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"

"You're having pizza on game day?"

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