Just A Hockey Player

Ryan decided to focus on hockey instead of her social life after the fiasco at the bar. After all, she was a hockey player and the beginning of the regular season was fast approaching. Ryan poured her heart and soul into practice and training. She was the first one on the ice and the last one to leave. As the days and weeks past, the guys didn’t wait around for her after practice. To her surprise, Ryan enjoyed training alone. No one judged her. She wasn’t Davis, that crazy girl who thought she could play hockey with men. She was Ryan, number thirteen, a hockey player. It was just her and the ice.

Torts stayed true to his word. Ryan didn’t dress for another preseason game. She would watch from the press box, reluctantly dressed in the buisness casual attire that was required of the players who weren’t playing that night. Though, for the average player, that meant throwing on a suit. For Ryan, it involved a little more effort. Tessa had tried to take Ryan on another shopping trip but quickly gave up. Tessa knew her friend, and knew she couldn’t change who she was. She had never really wanted to change Ryan, just help her to realize she was more than a hockey player. But how do you convince someone that she isn’t just a hockey player when that was all she wanted to be, especially when that someone was as headstrong and determined as Ryan Davis.

Ryan awoke to the grating shrill of a siren. She groggily rubbed her eyes before realizing that it was her phone, placed strategically across her room, emitting the Ranger goal song, which she had set as her alarm. She dragged herself across the room and slammed her hand onto her phone, which she had to put across the room from her bed so she wouldn’t be tempted to fall back asleep after turning off her alarm. After all, Ryan was an eighteen year old girl, and what eighteen year old girl doesn’t like sleep?

But Ryan didn’t need any extra motivation to wake up today. Finally, her dreams were coming true. Final cuts had been made. Some had been sent to the AHL, disappointed, name tags ripped off their locker and jersey put into storage, until the day they returned. Some would come back, maybe to never leave, or maybe to be sent back down after a game or two. Some were constantly shuttled back and forth from Manhattan to Hartford based on injuries and other players’ performances. Still others would never return, traded in a minor deal that not many cared about, or left to toil in the minor leagues before they realized their dream would never come true. But, as Torts had promised, Ryan kept possession of her locker, the sticker bearing her name replaced with a more permanent plaque. Her jersey was placed in the equipment bags, in between Cally’s and Gabby’s, awaiting the train ride to Pittsburg, the home of bitter rivals the Penguins and the location of the first regular season game for Ryan and the rest of the Rangers.

Ryan had to leave the apartment in half an hour in order to be at the airport in time for takeoff. She threw on some clothes quickly before rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat for breakfast.

“I thought I was going to have to wake you up,” said Step from the breakfast bar, making Ryan jump.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Ryan, pouring the last bit of Lucky Charms into a bowl and finishing off the milk. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for this.” She sat down at the bar next to Step, eating the meal that had become a habit over her years of playing hockey. Every morning before a game, from pee-wee games to her time with the Ramparts, Ryan had Lucky Charms for breakfast. For lunch she had a rather peculiar meal that she was sure the guys would notice and never let her hear the end of.

“Are you kidding asked?” asked Step.

“What?” mumbled Ryan through a spoonful of cereal.

“I mean I knew you were NASCAR fan crazy, but not this crazy.” Ryan raised her eyebrows to indicate she had no idea what Step was rambling about. “You watch soccer?” He asked, indicating her tee-shirt. Ryan groaned inwardly. She had planned on keeping soccer as her guilty pleasure, knowing the abuse the sport and its players received from hockey players and fans alike. Ryan recognized that hockey looked more violent, but appreciated the different attributes needed to succeed in the sport known as ‘the beautiful game.’

“Yeah, since I was little,” Ryan admitted. “Big Manchester United fan.”

Step chuckled. “The guys are gonna love this.”

“Well, then I’ll just go change.”

“No time,” said Step, grabbing her empty bowl and tossing it in the sink. “Can’t miss the train.” Ryan didn’t put up a fight. He was right, after all. She grabbed her bag before heading out the door, making sure it was locked, knowing that Step had forgotten.