The Cocky Hockey Captain

Chapter 20 ● Do As Canadians

"Ready?" Brian asked me. I put on my mouthguard and nodded. This time I was.

Our next game was at home, which seemed to infect all of us with a certain euphoria. We were surrounded by family and friends in our home rink, their cheers adding to the adrenaline that was certain to pump in our blood. I was in the bench, waiting for the puck to drop in the middle of the ice, and I joined my team mates as we banged the sideboard. The puck dropped and the action begun.

Dad was nowhere in sight.

I tried to focus on what was going on in the ice more than on who came and went in the bleachers. But I couldn't help myself. He'd promised to come tonight, and like a fool I'd believed him. I had to recall the same happening a year and a half ago, when I had my first amateur match at a juniors competition. He'd also promised to come watch, but inevitably something or the other kept him at work. Miguel had been the sole witness to my victory that day, and he treated me to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron at Universal.

As the first period came and went, and as I realized my dad's face was still not among the crowd, I became more and more agitated. It wasn't like I wanted my dad's approval for playing, but I did want to show him I was just as good as the boys, as fast, as aggressive. I wanted to show him it was a bad idea to underestimate me. He had to see that whatever the circumstances I was a fighter.

Because I sincerely doubted he understood that sometimes.

At the start of the third period I was pissed that I'd let him feed me false hopes again and like a fool I'd gobbled them up. I wondered when I'd learn my lesson as I skated as though my life depended on it during a particular play where the opponent had closed in on our Captain. Their D-men were stuck to him like velcro, elbowing him and using their sticks as a way to try to trip him. Too bad for them that Dean was as skilled a skater as an olympic figure skater. I saw him jump and do a ridiculous pirouette that freed him from their mark for a few precious seconds. Enough to score us a goal.

The entire arena roared with glee. We all piled up on our Captain in a big crunch of limbs. Play resumed amidst a chant of go, Bears, go, and it seemed like our opponents were raring for more violence. My role in the team became critical as I rammed into as many of our rivals as possible and even though it was freezing outside, I was going to have no option tonight but really submerge myself in a tub of ice. I looked at the crowd once more, wondering if dad had made it after all and if he'd force me to quit the team if I asked him to stop at the gas station before heading home so we could buy a few bags of ice.

It was as if life took a peak into my thoughts. I saw dad in the crowd then, clear as day, as though there was nobody else around. At the same time, the pain that I was already feeling became nothing as I was tackled from behind and rammed against the glass sideboard so hard that my head bounced off of it.

Everything went blank.

I woke up disoriented, thinking for a hot second that I was just opening my eyes after a long night of sleep. You know, like when your eyelids are so firmly glued together that it seems to take titanic effort to just lift them open. I blinked a couple of times, trying to get rid of the weird light that was blinding me until I realized it was just the overhead lamps. A shadow fell over me as someone peered down at me. The sounds started registering then. First a shout and then a hundred. More shadows fell over me and someone groaned. I think it might have been me. I attempted to sit up so I could look at what the big deal was that everybody was looking to.

Somebody clamped a vice on my shoulder that kept me pinned down.

"Don't move."

"What's going on?" I asked, and I was surprised that it sounded as though I had a ball of cotton in my mouth.