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Tony’s big body slams Cory into the boards. He takes back control. Mike taps the ice, letting him know that he’s there. He passes. Mike takes off towards the goal, fires, the puck sails through the legs of the goalie.
Mike punches the air as the guys celebrate around him.
“Don’t worry,” Tony says, coming up next to me. “You had some good shots.” He grins, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t let Coach get to you.” He takes off as Coach blows the whistle again.
I quirk a brow, watching Coach Tommy call practice and dismiss us.
I played like shit today. It certainly didn’t help that during practice, Coach Tommy scrutinized every move I made. It felt like he kept a keen eye on every shot on goal, frowning at every falter in my performance and scowling at any success.
I’m desperate to avoid him, but he catches up with me before I can escape to the showers.
“How you doing?” Coach asks. He crosses his arms against his chest, almost as if he already knows the answer to his own question. “Be honest.”
“I’m alright.” The words feel like a lie. I swallow it down. The nerves on the ice have begun to carry home, affecting everything about me. But that is not a conversation that I am ready to have.
“Yeah? I’ve noticed your shots on goal are still off during practice.”
I want to roll my eyes. It would’ve been hard to miss. This fact hasn’t gone unnoticed to me either. It is not like I’m thrilled with how today went. But hearing the words out loud makes me doubt my ability to play even more.
“You looked so good the other morning. more focused. But you were off today. Whatever you changed, whatever was different, don’t do it again. You looked like shit today, Daniels.” He looks me up and down. “You can’t wish your way out of a slump. You got to fix whatever it is that’s messing with your head.”
I nod my head, trying my best not to react one way or the other. It is one thing to play poorly, it’d be another to react. I have to keep my cool.
Whatever you changed, don’t do it again. I close my eyes briefly to figure out what changed and when. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong. I need to keep doing what I’m doing.
I’m avoiding runs with Astrid. Missing family dinners. Hell, I’m so far removed that my daughter’s teacher thinks Astrid is her mother. That can’t be the answer. Surely there is another way.
If Coach’s words weren’t enough, Matt comes up to me a moment later, echoing the same sentiments.
“You okay man?” he asks, clapping me on the back as we walk back into the locker room.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, barely believing my own words.
“You sure? You looked… lost out there today.”
Lost. That’s an understatement for how I’m feeling.
“Yeah, man.” I shake my head. “I was just overthinking it today.”
“Alright…” his voice trails off, but his eyes remain on me. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me. And I don’t blame him. I’d be nervous too if I were the goalie and my star forward was fucking up every attempt on goal. It is not a good sign. I’ll be the first to admit that.
But there is only so many times I can hear someone mention how good I looked one day and not the other before it starts fucking with my head.
I’m just as frustrated as they are. The contrast of today is glaring, a neon sign pointing to all the things going wrong with my life, both on and off the ice.
Something has changed since that first away game. It’s like I left and… I don’t know, everything feels different now. I can’t tell if it is me or her.
But I need to figure it out before I get put on the bench for good. Or worse.
Last night was a lapse in judgement. I was feeling a lot of things and Astrid is my light. Being with her feels good. But feeling good and playing good are going to result in very different outcomes.
Sure, Victoria makes a good living. A great living. But I want to be able to support my daughter too. If I can stay an active player in the NHL for five years, Violet will be financially set for life. Victoria and I could potentially start a trust fund for her.
And selfishly, I want my career. This has been my dream since I was five years old. I’m not sure that I can give that up for anyone.
Maybe Coach is right.
I hate myself.
