She Makes Me Wanna

Two Months Later

The roar of the crowd was unbelievable as I ran onto the ice, having been placed in front of Sidney for the entrance from the tunnel. My heart raced in my chest, and I was momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer size and volume of the Consol Energy Center. I was sweating bullets, having been placed on the first line with Sidney and Jack. It was my first professional ice hockey game, a preseason game against the Philadelphia Flyers. As we lined up for the national anthems, Sidney leaned over.

“You want to definitely watch out for Giroux…he may be a forward but he has an absolutely devastating checking ability and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of it,” he muttered, and I nodded in understanding, my eyes immediately locking onto number 28. Sidney had taken to feeding me bits of advice here and there, along with many of the other Penguins. I sang along quietly to the Star Spangled Banner, and Sidney sang to Oh Canada. Once the singing and opening traditions were over, I skated over to my place as left winger. Jack nodded reassuringly at me as we all bent down, getting ready for puck drop. Sidney won the faceoff, and the puck flew to my stick immediately. I bolted off towards the Flyers’ net, my heart racing as I saw that I was much faster than the Flyers defense had anticipated. Kimmo Timonen nearly caught up to me, but I deked quickly and found myself on a breakaway. Sergei Bobrovsky honed in on the puck, but another deke later, the puck rang off the cross bar and landed behind Bobrovsky and the crease line. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, disbelief ringing in my ears. Then I let out a triumphant scream and pumped my fist once. The Penguins on the ice collapsed in around me, patting me on the head and screaming things like “Fuck yeah rookie!” (I couldn’t see who said it, but I was almost positive that it was Letang.)

The game remained scoreless for the rest of the first period, and as I walked into the locker room everyone began clapping for me.

“Good job Vance!” Fleury called from his stall, while Gronk gave me a thumbs up. Cooke, who had taken to patting me on the head, did so as he walked past me to get to his stall.

“That was a fantastic goal,” Sidney said, walking up behind me. I spun around and beamed happily.

“Thanks Sid!” I said before walking over to my stall.

The second period was a lot more chaotic. The Flyers, who never seemed to come out of the locker room after being behind quite the same, were playing more aggressively than ever. I ignored the chirping from the guys on the ice, but it wasn’t until Max Talbot laid into me and slammed me into the boards that I got pissed.

“The fuck was that Talbot?” I roared, spinning around to face the ex-Penguin. The referee blew his whistle and motioned for a boarding call.

“Get back to the kitchen!” Talbot yelled as he was escorted to the box. I skated back to the bench steaming, and Jack slapped me on the back.

“He’s just pissed because a woman plays better hockey than him,” Jack said reassuringly, and I nodded but kept my lips clamped shut. Dan sent me out on the second line of the power play, and I once again found myself in a position to score. I raced past the penalty box, giving Talbot a one handed wave, before bearing down on the net once more. I slammed the puck in behind Bobrovsky’s foot, and the goal horn roared through the arena.

“Holy shit kid, that’ll show them to piss you off!” Cooke screamed, patting me on the head.

Unfortunately, the good feelings didn’t last long. By the end of the second the Flyers had caught up, and the aggressiveness was rising. Sidney was sent careening to the ice by Hartnell, and Staal toppled to the ice after a powerful hit by Giroux. The third period came, and with a minute and thirty five seconds left, we were getting desperate. None of us wanted to go into overtime, and most of us were battling the aches and pains that resulted from being the Flyers’ enemies of the night. Dan Bylsma decided to pull Flower, and I bit my lip nervously.

“Vance, get that mouth guard back in and get on that ice! You’re our extra man!” Dan barked, and I started.

“What?” I asked.

“Go!” he yelled, and I leapt over the boards and onto the ice. I saw that the puck was on the stick of Danny Briere, and I immediately raced towards him. He had used his speed to slip past our defense, but he didn’t see me coming and I laid him into the boards. The puck once again found itself on my stick, and I darted off towards the Flyers’ zone. I passed the puck to Sidney, who dished it up to Cooke, who flung it back to me. Bobrovsky dropped, expecting me to go for the five-hole, and I flipped the puck up top shelf. The puck flew into the net with such force that Bobrovsky’s water bottle flew out of its holder, and the crowd began to scream once more.

“I GOT A HAT TRICK!” I screamed, racing towards my teammates. The horn sounded, signaling the end of the game, and the team flooded the ice. I found myself at the bottom of an enormous dog pile, and when I was finally able to see the ice again, there were hats everywhere. I slowly made my way back towards the tunnel, but I bent down and picked up a tiny pink Penguins baseball hat as I went, a triumphant grin plastered to my face.

“You did great!” Sidney screamed as I walked into the locker room, having been interviewed as the first star of the game.

“Thanks. I tried my best,” I said, trying not to let my excitement get the best of me. Dan Bylsma nodded at me approvingly as I headed to my stall, and I let out a sigh of relief. I knew that with that performance, I wasn’t going to be sent down to the AHL just yet.

That night, as I was about to fall asleep, my phone went off.

Hey rookie, great job tonight. You’re going to do just fine here in Pittsburgh. ~Sidney I read the text over twice before laughing quietly to myself.

Thanks Sid. You did pretty damn well yourself. I replied before dozing off, a faint smile tracing my lips.