Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
What the actual fuck was that?
Extra Credit
Maven
Am I crazy?
Those were the words on repeat in my mind as I loaded up onto the bus with the team. They grew even louder when we arrived at the stadium, the guys much more subdued now than they were on the plane ride or even during the morning skate. Now, they were all quiet and focused like Daddy P had been, whether they were taping their sticks or watching film or stretching in the corner of the locker room.
Meanwhile, I was pretending to focus while my brain turned over what had happened in Vince’s room.
I should report that, I thought. But that notion only lasted for a split second before the more pressing one took its place.
That shouldn’t have turned me on.
I knew it was true, and yet, my body was still tense in the most exhilarating way from the exchange. I could close my eyes on a blink and see the whole scene play out again — him standing over me, his hand gripping my chin tightly, his eyes hard on mine before they fell to my mouth.
I shivered, and then my skin crawled like a cold front had just blown in. I looked across the room at where Vince was taping his stick.
His hands were at work, but his eyes were on me.
He watched me for a long pause before he tore his gaze away, his jaw tight, and continued working on his stick.
That was the last time he looked at me the entire game.
It wasn’t my first time watching an NHL game, but it was my first time watching one live. And, to be honest, it was my first time where I actually paid attention. Hockey was big in Tampa. As a life-long resident, it was impossible to escape the big playoff parties hosted all around the city. I’d gone with friends or even watched with my dad a time or two, but the games were mostly background noise while I talked to my friends or scrolled on my phone.
Tonight, I was standing behind the glass at the mouth of the tunnel, right next to where the players lined the bench. I had chills lining my arms and my phone clamped in shaky hands.
The rush of adrenaline I felt was like riding a rollercoaster without a seatbelt.
From the moment the puck dropped, I was in a trance, taking photos and videos while also frantically writing out notes in my phone — and questions. So many questions I wanted to ask Vince later, like how they were able to change lines so seamlessly, how they were able to skate so hard for minutes at a time, how they were able to catch their breath before being put back on the ice. Also, what were those salts they smelled? And why did they do it? Why was tripping a penalty, but being shoved hard into the boards was seemingly fine?
The energy from the crowd only amped up my buzz more, and this was an away game. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like at home, and I couldn’t wait to find out.
At the end of the first period, no one had scored, but it wasn’t because the teams weren’t playing well. It was the opposite, actually, Boston and Tampa duking it out like they’d sooner get nut tapped than let the other one score.
In the locker room, Coach McCabe gave a few words of encouragement, telling the guys to keep doing what they were doing but to fight harder.
“You want this,” he reminded them. “But so do they. Wanting it isn’t enough. You’ve got to need it. You’ve got to need that win so badly you will fight like it’s win or die.”
Coach let me sit at the edge of the bench the next period after I’d begged him for a glass-free video. I had a helmet strapped to my head, just in case.
As the puck was dropped, I thought about what Coach had said to me yesterday, about how they had a real shot this season. I knew Vince Tanev was a big part of why he believed that, and when Vince scored a goal within the first minute of the second period, I understood why.
He was a beast.
Or, as I heard a couple of guys on the bench call him, a beaut.
That one goal seemed like a match that lit his fuse, and he went off like a bomb after that. He had an assist to the center in his line, bringing them up by two, and then when Boston caught up and the game was tied in the third period with just four minutes left to play, he scored again, rendering the arena completely silent while he and the team celebrated.
It was after that goal that he finally looked at me.