The Joys of Hockey

I have my first official practice with the team today. The veterans here crowded around us rookies and began to interrogate us for a reason so incomprehensibly stupid that it would make anyone facepalm: to give us nicknames. They questioned mostly about favorite movies, bands and television series; our hometown; how long we've been playing hockey and, strangely enough, whether or not we liked Pokémon.

One of the Sedin twins (I'm just going to assume it's Daniel, because I'm incapable of telling them apart at the moment) grinned maliciously when I admitted I was a fan of Star Trek. He caught the attention of his twin brother to whisper something in his ear. Henrik let out a low chuckle, patted his brother's back and then said something to him in Swedish. Daniel merely grinned in return.

I really hoped they weren't planning something mischievous. When I questioned them about it, they merely waved a stray hand at me and skittered off to meet our coach, who had arrived seconds earlier. With a sense of impending doom cast upon me, I skated toward our coach as well, and decided it was a good idea to stay very far away from the Sedin twins for the time being.

Coach sent the defensemen off to mess around while he discussed tactics with the forwards, then defense and offense switched roles. I listened intently to what he had to say. I was silently hoping the entire time that my short term memory wouldn't fail me. Otherwise, I'd be screwed.

After this, we did some suicides to warm up. I was perfectly content with this. In high school and college, suicides were a common staple for stamina training, so we were forced to do them quite often. Because of this, I had no trouble keeping up with my more seasoned teammates. The suicides, combined with the long practice game following them, was effective in tiring me out and making me smell much like a large rugby team after a long game.

Once in the locker room, I peeled my practice jersey off and threw it lazily in the duffel bag at my feet. As I brought a bottle of Gatorade to my lips, the Sedin twins approached me with matching grins plastered on each of their faces. I took a long drink before acknowledging them.

"Tribble!" Daniel (again, I'm only assuming) cried with much zeal.

I stared up at him blankly, totally speechless. Why did he just scream "tribble" at me?

"We give everyone nicknames, kid," Henrik explained. "Yours is Tribble."

'Of all the nicknames...," I thought, pinching the bridge of my nose.