The Crosby Life

Oh, the fabulous Playoffs. The best time of the year, and this will be my first time playing all the way through them considering I’ve had injuries plaguing me pretty much since my second season.

Game One:
I kicked so much ass in game one that I had all my teammates trying to buy me drinks afterwards just out of pure happiness. I blocked more shots than my dear Niklas Hjalmarsson blocks (which is saying something since he pretty much leads the league in blocked shots) and I assisted on two of the three goals by my boys.
I was proud.
Marc had to keep the dogs away. The dogs being my teammates. But once we had some quiet time to ourselves at home, he spoiled me with kisses.
“You rocked today, ma chérie,” he whispered in my ear as we laid on our bed together.
I smiled and looked into his dark eyes. “Merci,” I mumbled, pressing my lips to his as I played with his silky hair.
“Ever heard of closing the door?!” Nealer yelled as he walked by, slamming the door shut on his way to the guest room where he has been saying since he got here. He’s waiting to see if he’s staying for next year before buying a place.
I laughed as Riley whimpered at the door. “And that’s why we don’t.”
Marc-Andre laughed and suddenly flipped me over so he was leaning over me, and showered me with kisses.
“Je t’aime,” I mumbled to him.
“Je t’aime aussi ma chérie.”

Game Two:
Oh, don’t even get me started. This game was a complete 180 from my game just a couple games ago.
I was on the ice for the first two goals the Lightning scored before I suffered a bit of a set-back.
I dashed for the puck in my own zone, eyeing the young Stamkos behind me. I evaded him and passed the puck to Brooksy before I got hit by St. Louis. I growled and pushed away from him, only to have Stamkos’ large body slam into mine.
We both went down together, and all I felt was his one hundred and eighty eight pounds on my left leg.
The twenty-one year old got up quickly, but I just laid on the ice, groaning in pain as I clutched my leg.
Marc grabbed the refs attention and our athletic trainer jumped on the ice. “Hip?”
It’s my left hip that Asham fell on and I had surgery on a few years ago, and since Stamkos fell awkwardly on my left leg, our A.T must have thought it was my hip. “Fine. My leg,” I said through closed teeth.
I was helped to my feet by Z and he helped guide me to the runway. I felt the nervous stares of my teammates as well as the fans as I limped to the locker room.
I shrugged off my shin guards and padding on my left leg and let our Doc examine it. I could tell from the look on his face that he was picturing Geno’s injury all over again.
But, unlike my Russian, I’m fine. Just an awkward fall with a sting. For the second intermission, the guys all piled into the locker room, staring right at me. I gave them a thumbs up and a wide smile as I pulled my gear on once again.
Marc kissed my forehead. “Nothing can keep you down,” he whispered before heading off once again.

Game Three:
To Tampa!
I wore shorts the whole time we were in Tampa, because Pittsburgh has been unusually chilly. And Florida is warm. Oh so warm!
After our 3-2 win however, back at the hotel, I realized that someone was missing from the pack. “Where the hell is Emelie?” I growled, looking around at my startled teammates. They immediately began to look around, noticing that she wasn’t with us in the hotel lobby.
Martin looked at me. “I think I saw her leave with some of the Lightning players,” he said slowly, as if waiting for me to explode.
I didn’t explode. Nope. I just became really worried.
“SIDNEY?!”
“Hrm?” he said, looking at me.
“Phone.”
My twin brother threw me his phone and I quickly found the number I was looking for. My old teammate who I still love to death picked up on the fourth win. “Howdy doody, Captain Crosby.”
“Wrong Crosby, Ryan,” I said with a smile. Ryan Malone is one of the funniest people who can meet in this world. After Burish and Steeger though.
“Sierra! My love!” We laughed. He used to call me that all the time. “What’s up?”
“What’s the most popular bar or club around here?”
Ryan hesitated. “Why?”
“Emelie is missing.”
“Oh God,” he said with a sigh. He was here the first year that Emelie broke into the league. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go find her, ok?”
“Ok.”
“I’m coming to,” Max said suddenly behind me.
I turned to face him, blinking in surprise. The whole room was silent because we all know how stressful things have been between the two. “Got that, Ryan?”
“I’m on it, angel. Be there in a few.”
We did end up finding Emelie with some of Ryan’s teammates. He was livid, yelling at them, while I screamed at Emelie for wandering off in a city we don’t know with the players from the team we are playing in the Playoffs... WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE.
She was also so drunk that Max had to carry her. And he wasn’t happy.

Game Four:
Another win where I assisted on Nealer’s winning goal. I literally jumped on my linemate as we both laughed happily before the rest of the guys on the ice at the time bombarded us.
James Neal and I have become extremely close since he came here. I helped him with his game, and since he’s been living with us, we’ve really bonded. He’s like another brother. Then again, the all of the boys are my brothers to me. Except my darling Marc-Andre. He’s only just the love of my life.

Game Five:
This is where things went sour.
I just couldn’t get my footing at all during the whole game. I fell down with every check and just couldn’t hold onto the puck for much longer than a few seconds.
Of course, my teammates were struggling just as bad as I was.
We lost 8-2 at home. Max is the only one who was actually playing well. He also didn’t give up, even when we were down 7-0. I’m proud of him, and I also think that he just has some anger with Emmy that’s feeding him.
I just hope it continues to the next game.
Just one more game. If we can just win one more, we will move on in the Playoffs...

Game Six:
But that isn’t happening.
And for the first time since I announced that I was retiring after this season, it was really setting in that game 7 may just be the last game in my career.
And that realization set me haywire.
After the game, I stormed off the ice, despite Ryan trying to call after me. In the locker room, I threw my stick against the wall and watched it snap into multiple pieces.
“Sierra.”
I whipped around to face my twin brother, and Sidney opened his arms to me. I felt the tears swell up in my eyes as I launched myself into my brother’s arms, sobbing into his chest. “I’m staring at the end of my career, Sid,” I sobbed as he played with my sweaty hair.
“It’ll be ok, Sierra. It’ll be ok,” he soothed.
We stayed like that until all of the guys made it into the locker room and started changing.
I said not a word the whole ride to the hotel.
In our hotel room, where Marc was in the shower and I was curled up on the bed, Max came barging in and threw something cold at me.
I stared down at the Frosty, my swollen eyes barely able to read it without my glasses or contacts. I looked up at my roommate. “A Frosty?”
He smiled. “To cheer you up a bit. We’ll win this Sierra. We all agree that we are now doing this for you.”
I teared up again, and Max came over to embrace me. “We love you, Erra. We don’t want your career to end just yet.”
“Merci,” I whispered, getting the plastic spoon out of the wrapper to eat my Frosty.

Game Seven:
My time has ended.
I stared blankly at nothing as the final horn went off to indicate our loss to the Lightning, and my loss of the NHL.
My teammates touched my head as we crowded around each other, but I felt nothing. As we lined up for the handshake line, I still felt nothing as I clasped the other teams’ hands. I felt absolutely empty.
“Ma chérie,” Marc asked, gliding up next to me. “Sierra, look at me.”
I turned to him, concern written all over his face. As well as guilt.
“It’s not your fault. You had no chance. No one would have been able to see that. It’s our fault for not getting it in.”
He nodded and reached for me, but I took a step away. I didn’t want to cry in front of the pact arena filled with our fans., and if he tried to console me, I’d start bawling.
I almost made it to the runway when the voice came over the jumbotron, stopping both teams, and fans in their tracks. “Pittsburgh’s loss in the Playoffs isn’t just the end of the season. It also marks the end of a career for our very own Sierra Crosby.” Some cheers went through the crowd. Let’s give a huge call out to our determined forward, who not only was in the top three in points of our team since beginning her career as a professional hockey player, but also the first female to step foot in a man’s league. The city of Pittsburgh and all her fans love you, Sierra. Now let’s show her some love!”
The roar of the crowd was absolutely deafening, and it wasn’t just the fans. Both teams cheered and roared for me, slamming their sticks against the ice.
The waterworks came pouring out of me.
Marc-Andre was the first to come up to me and hold me close as the cheers of the crowd didn’t stop. Jordan and James soon followed, with the rest of the team joining in to make a giant ball of hockey players with me in the center. I’ve never felt so much love before. And I knew then that I was special in every single one of their hearts.
But the love didn’t stop there. The Lightning started making an outer coat of the giant ball, starting with Ryan. He wrapped his arms around the outer ring of Penguins, and soon enough, the rest of the team, and the staff from both were joining in.
I only cried harder. It was then that I realized I had the whole entire league and every single fan hugging me along with the fifty-plus people in the group around me now.
“Thank you,” I choked out through the sobs, speaking not only to the men around me, but to every single person who ever cheered me on.
My hockey career has ended, but my life now has a new chapter as the Penguins A.T and soon to be wife of the love of my life. Hockey will forever be apart of my life. I just won’t be playing in professional games anymore.
But, now, it still hurts. I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember, and now that my career has ended, it feels like a part of me is being ripped out of my heart.
I suppose a part of me really is now gone...