The Games We Play

Thursday finally arrived. Lacey woke up that morning actually feeling great--she and her team had won their game against Columbus on Tuesday and were edging their way towards first place in the league. It was still early in the season, but Lacey knew that it was important for them to be in the lead. She remembered that the Blackhawks were supposed to be coming to the campus for their soccer training camp, so she got up to get ready.

After breakfast in her pajamas, she decided to get dressed. Seeing as it was always windy in Chicago and the small chill that ran through the late March air wasn’t helping much, she put on a dry-fit white v-neck shirt and a thin Loyola pull-over hoodie paired with her white soccer shorts, shin pads and knee-high white socks. She put on a loose-fitting pair of Vans and carried her matching white soccer shoes as to not damage the cleats. Lacey hastily tied her long hair up in a messy bun and put on her white headband before grabbing a water bottle and heading out the door.

Lacey lived off-campus in an apartment building ten minutes away. The walk was always a good warm-up and got her blood circulating. It was still a little bit nippy outside, but after running around the field for a while, it always turned into comfortable soccer weather.

Lacey got there at ten fifty. Derek was already there, tying up his laces and doing some active stretches.

“Morning,” she waved, plopping down on the bench to get her shoes on.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” Derek saluted. He and Lacey had always pretended to flirt with one another, but they were strictly just friends. Derek had a girlfriend living in Peoria and Lacey felt like she was doomed to a life of eternal loneliness. “Excited?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure I will be when they get here,” Lacey nodded.

“I heard you won the game on Tuesday,” Derek grinned. “Does that mean you brought your happy face?”

Lacey laughed and nodded again. “Yes, Der. I brought my happy face.”

“Good,” Derek smirked. “Because here they come.”

Lacey had just finished lacing up her shoes when the guys started filing onto the field. They looked around at the stadium, some of them nodding in approval and some others looking like they didn’t want to be there at all. A man in a black Chicago Blackhawks windbreaker with a thick gray mustache and matching slicked back gray hair waved at the two.

“Hi, I’m Joel Quenneville,” he greeted, extending a hand to shake with both of them. “Thanks again for volunteering to help out with this.”

“Absolutely,” Derek grinned. “I’m a big hockey fan. Wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like this.”

Joel looked over at Lacey. “What about you, young lady? Hockey fan?”

Lacey smiled politely but shrugged. “Soccer’s more my thing.”

“Understandable,” Joel chuckled. “Well, come meet the team.” Lacey and Derek looked and listened as the coach started naming off people, each of them waving as they heard their names being called. Lacey caught a few of them sending her looks, but she decided to ignore it. Her focus was starting to wander until Joel said, “...And this is the team captain, Jonathan Toews.”

Lacey glanced over at the tall man standing off to her left. He looked at her with a certain intensity in his deep brown eyes. His lips twitched into a tiny smile as he bowed his head a little bit in acknowledgement.

“Boys,” Joel continued. “Meet your trainers.”

Derek gave a friendly wave and a big smile. “I’m Derek Summers and this is Lacey Larsen. I’m captain of the men’s team here at Loyola, and she’s captain of the women’s. So, today we thought we’d focus on...”

Lacey’s attention started cutting in and out of whatever Derek was saying. She walked over to the giant bag of soccer balls that Derek had brought along with him and started dumping them out while he was still talking. The guys all had soccer cleats on and seemed to be ready to start.

“Hey, Lace?” Derek called, craning his neck behind him to see what she was doing. “Do you want to start them off with a few laps around the field?”

“Sure,” Lacey nodded, abandoning the balls and tugging at the tops of her white socks. She turned to the guys. “Follow me.”

Lacey started to jog and the rest of the team followed suit. She kept a reasonable pace, calling out to them that they’d be doing three laps around the entire field without stopping. She heard a few groans coming from the back of the pack, but just let out a laugh.

“Come on. You guys are pro athletes, the best of the best. You should be able to outrun me no problem.”

“We skate, we don’t run,” the guy she recognized as Patrick Kane announced from just behind her. “And besides, running on the treadmill is just a little different than running on actual turf.”

“One more lap,” Lacey called, starting to break a sweat. “Remember, breathe.”

After they had finished running their laps, the guys were panting and reaching for their water bottles. Derek had run one lap with them after he finished setting up the drills. Derek called the guys over and helped them stretch out their muscles before proceeding further. Lacey shed her hoodie and adjusted her shirt that started to ride up before going to join in the stretch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the team captain staring at her intently. When she fully turned her head to look at him, he was looking away back at Derek. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at him curiously.

Derek decided to start off with simple drills like weaving the ball through orange pylons without losing control of the ball or knocking anything over. Lacey demonstrated, going from one end to the other and back.

“Try to only use the inside of your foot,” she advised. “Small, short passes from one side to the other. Go.” Halfway through the drill, the guys decided to start having races for who could finish faster. Derek set up more pylons and set the guys up into teams. Lacey watched in amusement as the full-grown men turned into little kids right before her eyes. She was surprised by how well they were doing though. Surprised, and impressed.

“Let’s do all the captains against each other!” Patrick Sharp yelled out. “Come on! Captain versus captain versus captain! Show ‘em who’s boss, Tazer!”

Jonathan’s cheeks reddened slightly. “You know they’ll beat me. What’s the point?”

“Come on, dude,” Sharpie prodded. “You’ve been doing the best out of everyone so far. You can beat ‘em.”

Jonathan looked over at Lacey and Derek. “You okay with this?”

“I am,” Derek nodded. He turned to Lacey. “How about you?”

Lacey grinned. “How could I say no?”

The guys cheered as the three of them got set up at their starting marks. Lacey shook out each foot and loosened her shoulders as Joel counted off.

“On your mark...get set...go!”

Lacey went off like a bullet, but so did both Jonathan and Derek. From her peripheral vision, she saw Derek weaving in and out of his set of pylons with a practiced ease. Jonathan was doing fairly well in keeping up, though he did brush against a pylon and it slowed him down a little bit. The three were pretty much neck-in-neck at the home stretch, but in a sudden burst of speed, Lacey maneuvered her way to through the pylons and finished in first place. Derek came second, and as expected, Jonathan came in third.

“Holy crap, you’re fast,” Patrick (Kane) breathed. “We should suit you up in hockey gear and have you play for our team.”

Lacey smiled and took a sip of water. Turning to Derek, she said, “You know what we should do? Play an actual game.”

Derek’s face lit up. “Yeah! Do you think you guys are up for it?”

The majority of the guys were in agreement, but some of the others decided to be spectators instead. Derek and Lacey were on opposite teams. Lacey had been put on the team with both Patricks (Patrick Sharp had told her just to call him Sharpie to avoid confusion) and Derek was on the team with Jonathan and Brent Seabrook.

“We call being skins,” Patrick immediately said, sending a suggestive look over to Lacey. She laughed out loud and comically pinched the bridge of her nose as all of the guys on her side started to remove their shirts

“Fine,” she finally declared as the guys started to whoop. She pulled off her white v-neck so that she was only wearing her white sports bra with the rest of her gear. Patrick let out a low whistle, which she chose to ignore. “Less talking, more playing,” she ordered, making her way to her position. “Let’s win this. I am not playing shirtless for nothing.”