Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

As soon as we walked into the arena it was crazy – Tanya, the kids, Lindsay, Mr. and Mrs. Staal, Jared, and Becka all headed towards their seats immediately, keeping out of the media’s vision as we were immediately bombarded by TV cameras, interviewers and voice recorders. They’d set up a bit of a ‘red carpet’, which meant we weren’t getting out of any interviews or answering questions.

“So, what’s it like to have a Staal split?” one asked, to which Jordan shrugged.

“It makes it more interesting – I mean, it’s not like we play on the same team during the regular season, so it’s pretty cool to even be on Eric’s team,” he answered, to which Eric agreed.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just leave out the ginger,” Marc sighed, rolling his eyes and getting a few laughs.

“They’re just jealous we’re on the same team,” I scoffed, earning a chuckle from him and a few others.

“Sounds like you’re pretty close with the Staals?” one asked, and I nodded.

“He’s basically family,” Marc told him, and my smile suddenly felt a little forced. I hated when one of the guys would say something like that and all I could think about was how awful it was to be lying to them.

“So really it’s a fair Staal split then,” one reporter chuckled, and all three boys nodded. We continued towards the locker rooms while Neal and Sid were interviewed, and wished each other good luck before splitting up. Marc and I headed towards the home team’s locker room, while Jordan and Eric went to the visitors. A few minutes later Sid walked in, and then Giroux – who’d taken it upon himself to be the DJ – turned on his iPod and cranked up some music.

“All right – you guys ready to kick some ass?” Tortorella asked, getting a loud and excited reply from the team. Alfie stood up, and cleared his throat as we all quieted down.

“It’s an honor to play with you guys today – you know I respect every one of you, and I just wanted to say that I’m also honored to be team Captain. Now let’s go kick some ass!” we all cheered once more before running out onto the ice. The crowd was insanely loud, and if it was possible the sound level increased as our entire team filed onto the ice.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise and remove your hats for the singing of our national anthem,” the announcer said, and we stood up on the bench as Javier Colon came onto the ice to sing the American anthem, and Marc, Sid, Toews, Stamkos, Nuge and I all sang along quietly as Lyndon Slewidge performed the Canadian anthem.

“All right! Here we go boys!” Tortorella yelled, and we watched as the game started. It only took me a minute to realize that Lupul and Hartnell were actually mic’ed up and wired in as they talked to the TV announcers both on and off the bench, which made me laugh.

“What?” Ryan asked, looking to see if he’d missed something.

“Lupul and Hartnell are doing play-by-play,” I grinned, and when he saw it he began to laugh too. As soon as Hartnell was back at the bench I had to ask him about it.

“Yeah, and I’m doing a good job too,” he chirped, before patting the top of my helmet. He sat down and continued his conversation with the guys doing the TV broadcast, which was hilarious for the rest of us, especially when both he and Lupul were having a TV conversation while sitting on the two separate benches in plain sight of each other.

My first shift came up; Ryan and I were playing with Michalek, and it was strange to be out on the ice for more than fifty seconds or a minute at a time, but at the same time it was so much better – I felt like I had way more time to actually do something out there rather than rushing and feeling like it had been a loss or failure.

“Good shift boys,” Tortorella commented as we got back to the bench, Marc and Shea Weber had just come off too, and we were all just a little out of breath.

“This is probably the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” Ryan admitted, watching the game with awe. I nodded, sure that I would remember every single second of this night.

It was strange to go out on the ice and know you had time to make something happen; the shifts were long, and the game was going nothing like I’d expected. While there was the same sense of fun and camaraderie, there was definitely some competitiveness out on the ice at the same time. And a lot of it was coming from the two Staals on the other team.

“Just watch, we’re gonna deke you out so bad; you’re gonna look like idiots while we skate circles around you,” Eric taunted as he and Jordan came down the ice toward me and Marc. Jordan had intercepted a pass and Eric had been hot on his heels heading towards our end of the rink, and I’d skated as fast as I could to catch them so Marc wasn’t stuck in a two-on-one.

“Oh really?” I asked, being careful to watch the puck and how he turned his feet, to see if he was going to pass to Jordan or go around me.

“Pft, you’re facing us Eric, you really think you’re gonna get away with anything? I mean, we are the more talented of the four of us,” Marc teased, and Eric let out a huff as he faked the shot and just as I’d suspected passed it to Jordan. I stuck my stick out and caught a bit of the puck, and when Jordan and Eric moved in for a trap left it behind me and Marc carried the puck far enough to pass it to Michalek.

“Told you,” we chorused, while Eric and Jordan both grumbled. Marc and I high fived, and I knew the rest of the Staals would be killing themselves laughing, especially after Ryan scored a goal just seconds later because of us.

“So Eric, what was that about deking us out so bad? Something about skating circles around us?” Marc asked as we skated off to the bench. Eric gave him a pointed look before grumbling something under his breath, and Jordan followed suit.

“Ha, that was awesome!” I admitted moments later, and Marc nodded.

“Oh yeah, it feels good to show them up,” he agreed as we sat down and began watching the next shift.