Just A Hockey Player

About three months later, training camp started for the Rangers. Coach Tortorella called all the players, except one, together for a meeting. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that the Rangers had drafted a girl in the 1st round, even though it did take the other teams and the media a couple of minutes to figure it out. The move made headlines across the country and the world, and many people weren’t shy about letting everyone know that no way would a girl last in the NHL. Players, connected to the Rangers or not, were asked about playing with or against a girl. Ryan Davis was to attend training camp, and Glen Sather had given specific orders that she was not to be treated any differently than the other prospects and players.

“Alright, listen up!” Tortorella had to shout to be heard over the ruckus the Rangers’ players were making. “We all know who we drafted in the 1st round, and I have specific orders from Glen that Ryan Davis is to be treated no better or worse than anyone else on this team. She’s here for the same reason you all are: to try and become a part of the New York Rangers. So let’s just go about our business as usual.” Tortorella began to walk back to his office, then turned around and said “Bickel! Stepan! In my office!”

“Geez, Bick, we didn’t even start yet and we’re already in trouble,” joked Derek Stepan as he left his locker. Stepan, called Step by the guys, was the team’s second line center, a playmaker from Minnesota who played college hockey for Wisconsin with defenseman Ryan McDonagh, now known as Mac. Stu Bickel was a tough nosed defenseman who was undrafted and signed as a free agent with the Rangers. He played for the Greenville Road Warriors in the Eastern Coast Hockey League and the Connecticut Whale in the American Hockey League before being called up to the Rangers in the middle of last season because of a shortage of defenseman. Bick quickly became a fan favorite because of his hard work and willingness to defend teammates, especially against big rivals.

The two sat down across the desk from Coach Torts. They didn’t say anything, knowing that Tortorella would start the conversation when he was ready, and trying to rush him was only going to get you yelled at.

“Okay, gentlemen,” he finally began. Tortorella always began friendly conversations that way. When he started with a sigh before launching right into whatever he wanted to talk about, you knew you were in trouble. “You know the deal. No matter what I say, the guys are going to mess with Davis. I want you to test her in camp. Don’t hurt her, but make sure she can hang with the big boys. And if anyone tries to mess with her because she’s a girl, you need to take care of it. Whether it’s in the locker room,” Tortorella looked at Stepan, “or on the ice,” his gaze shifted to Bickel, “make sure she’s treated fairly. Got it? Good.” John Tortorella was not the sort of man to wait for a response.

Stepan and Bickel reentered the locker room just as Ryan Davis entered it for the first time. There was an awkward moment when everyone stared, and Ryan quickly walked to her locker, which was located across the room, with her head down. The talking picked up a bit after she sat down, but Ryan could hear name being mentioned all around the room, so she put in her earphones and listened to her traditional pre-practice song: Some Nights by Fun. Ryan pulled on her number 13 jersey. Even with the heavy fabric of the jersey covering her eyes, Ryan could feel everyone’s eyes on her. So she went out to the ice early.
Ryan felt the same feeling when she stepped onto the ice as the thousands of other times she had preformed tha same action: the familiar rush of adrenaline and suspense. It was just a little different this time seeing the Rangers logo on the ice and her jersey, even though it was only on the training rink ice and she was wearing a yellow practice jersey. Ryan knew she had a slim chance of making the team, and that being drafted was a dream come true. But, at the same time, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. The rest of the team filed on the ice, and Tortorella was not far behind.

“Gentlemen, on the blue line,” said Tortorella as he studied his clip board. There were a few raised eyebrows at the coach’s choice of words, but no one spoke up. There was the usual scraping of skates on ice as all the players, about fifty of them, lined up. “Since you’ll all be suffering through hell in the next couple of weeks,” continued Tortorella, “you might as well get to know each other. Who knows, you might end up together with the big club, or maybe down with the Whale. Or maybe both your games go to hell and you end up down in Greenville. Who knows? So get to know each other now so you have someone to complain with. So, just like kindergarten, say your name, what people usually call you, and where you’re from. You start, Cally.”

“I’m Ryan Callahan,” began the young captain. “The boys call me Cally and I’m from Rochester, New York.” Ryan knew Callahan well, not only as the captain of the Rangers, but as a local hero in Rochester. Callahan was older, so Ryan had never been on his team.
Carl Hagelin, or Hags, went next, speaking in his Swedish accent that Ryan found adorable, though she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. He was followed by Brian Boyle (Boyler), Rick Nash (Nasher), and Chris Kreider (Kreids) before Stepan went.

“I’m Derek Stepan,” he said, as his gaze fell on Ryan, “and you can call me anything but late for practice, because I hate skating punishment laps.” That earned a round of laughter, and Ryan caught Torts grinning at his clip board. The introductions continued. Most of the players Ryan knew, whether they were veterans she had admired since her days of high school hockey, like Henrik Lundqvist (Hank) and Marc Staal (Staalsie), or guys who were around her age and played in the minors, like Andrew Yogan (Yogs) and Jonathan Audy-Marchessault (JAM), who she had played with in Quebec for a year. But there were a few guys Ryan didn’t know, like Jesper Fasth, who played in Sweden, and Mike Vernace, guys who Ryan had never heard of. Finally, Ryan was the only one left.

“My name is—“ Ryan began, but she was interrupted.

“Why does it even matter? Why is she even here?” said someone in the back. It took a second before Ryan recognized him as Mike Vernace. She had known this was coming. No one wants to play on a team with a girl. Ryan saw that Tortorella was about to say something, but she knew she had to stand up for herself now, or she would become a doormat.

“I’m here to try and make the team,” Ryan retorted calmly. Vernace snorted in disbelief.

“Fine,” continued Ryan, more than a little annoyed, “Not only will I make the team, but I’ll take your spot too.” There was a moment’s silence, and Ryan was starting to lose some confidence, until she saw a smirk flit over Step’s face. Vernace looked ready to say something back, but she steamrolled on. “I’m Ryan Davis, from Rochester,” that earned her a slight nod of the head in acknowledgment from Cally. “Most people call me Davey.”

“Okay, enough chit-chat, let’s get started,” Torts seemed to want to avoid more bickering.

“There won’t be any pucks on the ice today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. As a matter of fact, there won’t be any pucks on the ice until the middle of next week.” Ryan’s heart sank. No pucks meant no fun. “You will be the most conditioned team in the league, no matter which league you end up in. I want you to be able to tire the team out. I want to be able to play a quadruple overtime game in April and not pass out from exhaustion. So, we’ll start with some suicides. You know the deal. Red line to blue line and back, then middle red line and back, then far blue line and back, and finally far red line and back. Go.”