One Shift

One shift can make all the difference.

In a game.

In a career.

“Fifty-six seconds left in the third. The centers are settling in for the drop of the puck. Worthington is on the bench, so it’ll be six-on-four for the Aces as they try to tie this game!”

This was not a situation I would ever find myself playing in. No one needed to tell me that though, I already knew it. I knew my role, just as the other guys who wouldn’t be leaving the bench knew theirs.

We needed our best out on the ice in a moment like this.

Even though this is the best league in the world, and anyone would tell you that I’ve earned the right to play in it….. I am not the best.

I am nowhere near to being the best player in the league.

I’m not even close to being the best player on my team.

So this was the kind of shift I assumed I would always watch.

Honestly, I was happy and proud of who I was. I wore my limited duty like a badge of honour, and my teammates appreciated that about me. Many of them had told me so.

There was still a part of me that wished I could be the one to be counted on though. I worked as hard as I could every game, every practice, to prove that I was reliable.

My body just didn’t seem to be capable of making the game-breaking plays my mind was capable of seeing. Plays my brain desperately wanted to make. Plays that would mean I was helping my team in the biggest ways…. in the biggest moments.

I felt a tap on the back of my shoulder.

Just one of the boys shifting to get a better view of the ice…. The bench is a crowded place.

I felt the tap again, harder this time.

“DAGGER!”

Was Coach shouting at me? I turned my head to glance back.

He stared down at me from his perch behind the thick slice of recycled plastic we all sat on.

My eyebrows lifted to ask him the question my mouth couldn’t.

“YA you! You think you can get that puck out of our zone?”

The shock of what was happening prevented me from responding with words. I nodded my head, almost imperceptibly, eyebrows still questioning.

I didn’t know if he really believed I could do it.

I didn’t even know if I believed I could do it.

“Then go do it!” He barked, waving his hand towards the ice.

I leapt over the boards and skated towards the right-side dot in our zone. A mix of adrenaline and terror waged war inside of my chest.

I could hear Farley screaming “GO F*CKING GET ‘EM DAGGER!” from behind me.

Deaner and Mack, our Dee, both drifted towards the dot to check in. Neill just nodded a show of faith and kept jawing with the Aces’ winger beside him.

“What’s the play?” Mack asked.

“It’s coming straight back, just fire it out. If not, I’m going high, you two clog the slot.”

“Alright Dag.” Deaner acknowledged the orders without hesitation, tapping my shin-pads with his stick. Whether they believed in me or not, it felt like they did.

“Yours Dagger!” Neiller called, giving me another nod.

I wheeled around to take the draw, pressing my stick into my thighs just above my shin-pads. The dull pinch was calming. It was a ‘hockey habit’ thing. Like goalies talking to their posts. It didn’t really make me better, I knew that, but I couldn’t take the draw without doing it.

“With just under 30 seconds to go, David Grant comes out to take the draw for the Thunder. They’ll try to hold on to this one-goal lead for their first win of the year.”

“Grant, I want your stick first, then the puck is dropping boys. Clean or I send one of ya’s out.”

I nodded at the linesman’s instructions without looking away from the dot, or looking up at my opponent.

“No shot Grant!”

Their center spat the chirp at me.

“I’m top 5 in the league. Don’t even bother putting your f*cking stick down.”

He was right. He was third in faceoff percentage in the entire league. I was….. not even close to that.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t beat him one time.

I lowered my stick and touched the red of the dot gently. Like the snowy surface was delicate, made of glass.

The puck smashed onto the ice and popped up into the air.

I swiped furiously at it, but my stick found nothing there. I watched the puck streak back towards their defender.

Deaner and Mack scrambled to the front of the net.

Neill was wearing that winger like their jerseys were sewn together.

All of the doubt. All of the planning. Everything I had wanted, or wished for, or thought I could or couldn’t do…. Vanished.

This was my favourite part about the game. Once you were playing, that was the only thing you were doing.

There was no chatter in my brain wondering “Am I good enough?”

There were no training sessions, no meetings, no obligations to make sure I was available or on time for.

There were no arguments with family, friends, or teammates to reconcile.

No difficult situations or tragic events to navigate.

I only thought of the moment. I only felt the moment.

I raced out towards the man at the top of the umbrella as he wound up to unleash a one-timer.

I knew what was coming, and braced myself for the impact.

“OHHH WHAT A BLOCK BY GRANT! He is REALLY struggling. That HAD to hurt him!”

FIRE AND LIGHTNING surged through my left ankle and up into my leg, but things were happening too quickly for me to care about whether anything was broken.

“Grant is HOBBLED but that puck is still moving around in the Thunder’s zone! We are under 20 seconds now.…”

I knew we were close, but there was no way to count the seconds. I was using every ounce of energy to keep my eyes on the puck, and to stay on my feet. The score clock might as well have not even existed.

“The Aces work it around the outside. It’s basically a 6-on-3 at this point. Grant can barely move out there! Tourle looking for a passing seam somewhere. It’s back to the point. 15 seconds to go, Aces need a shot!”

“They want Grayer to shoot” I told myself. “He always shoots.”

I drifted towards Grayer’s side of the ice in anticipation of the play. The puck worked it’s way around their umbrella, and then….

THERE!

I sprawled out onto the ice and braced one more time for what I knew was coming.

“MY GOODNESS GRANT HAS BLOCKED ANOTHER SHOT! HE MUST BE IN AGONY!”

EXCRUCIATING, MIND-NUMBING, ALL-ENCOMPASSING FLAMES. — There are no words for this kind of pain. Yet, despite the voices in my head screaming at me to just stay down, all I knew was that the buzzer had not gone…. We were not done yet.

I had fallen to the ice after taking this one, dropping my stick on the way down. I couldn’t help it, the pain was too much.

As I opened eyes that had snapped shut in reaction to the brutal impact of the second shot, I saw the puck ricochet back towards me. In desperation, I frantically dragged myself in its direction.

A monster in an Aces uniform, fully-upright and still possessing two functioning feet, hustled towards me from the blue line.

I swatted recklessly with my arms, intending to clear the puck from our zone, or, at the very least, take out the feet of this beast in black-and-white.

Even if I took a penalty now…. The play would stop. I could get off the ice.

The Aces player lunged with his stick to knock the puck out of my reach, but it wasn’t enough to miss my outstretched arms.

The puck fell in front of me and I batted it with everything I had left.

“ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE! GRANT JUST WILL NOT GIVE UP! HE’S CLEARED THE PUCK AS THE FINAL SECONDS TICK DOWN!!!!! ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDING WIN HERE TONIGHT! THE ACES WILL BE DEVASTATED TO BE THE TEAM THAT HAS GIVEN THE THUNDER THEIR FIRST WIN OF THE YEAR!”

The buzzer sounded and I stopped moving.

Grimacing to myself on my elbows and knees, I thanked the Hockey Gods it was over.

My left foot was throbbing…. The thumping almost drowning out the cacophony of noise around me.

Faint shouting from my teammates.

A dull roar from our fans. Thrilled that we had finally won.

Mack and Deaner were on either side of me, but I couldn’t focus on what they were asking.

All I could think was, “We did it. I did it. Was that enough? Have I earned another shift…..”