Angst • #Panic

Angst • Contest Submission

Aller Anfang ist schwer.

Nothing is more true as my vision becomes lost in the countless suitcases drifting on the black conveyor belt, mimicking the possibilities in my mind:

"Welcome to the team," the general manager told me in a video call. "You're our top draft pick for a reason—and we're excited to see what you'll bring to the team."

The team that has another high draft pick on its roster. The team that is in the same division as the top superstars in the league. Their ability to read the opponents' next move, weave through the defensemen, sling pucks exactly where they want them to go—

And I find myself left behind. Even if I try to copy their moves, I would be so far behind in the statistics, the general manager would regret wasting his first pick on me.

What pulls my mind back to the baggage claim is my familiar hockey bag approaching me. I could let it go, along with my imminent failure. However, my team would still be disappointed. So, I grab the bag and swing it over my shoulder.

After collecting the rest of my luggage, I face the airport's exits, which pour sunlight through its glass doors. Beyond those doors is the beginning of my heaven or hell.

"We're looking forward to you joining us," the director of player engagement exclaimed in another video call. "In fact, two of our young guys offered to let you room with them. They'll pick you up when you arrive, if you take up their offer."

They trust me too since I am worth their space and time. They are most likely waiting for me, an expectation I can fulfill now. I nod, mustering up the courage to step outside.

And I do so, being greeted by the blinding sunlight and roaring cars. Vehicles park alongside the never-ending sidewalk; loud people stream around me. I find myself glued to the concrete as the scenery sucks all the air from me.

Bad idea. This was a bad idea—

"Grünberg?"

Clarity blinks inside my brain at my surname. I turn to spot a tall, young man approaching me. I recognize him as the team's other high draft pick. Instead of matching his confused tone, he wears an amicable expression.

"Hey." He holds a hand out. "Welcome to the big leagues."

I drop the bag from my right hand to shake it.

"Oh, lemme help ya with that." He scoops up my bag and pulls my suitcase into his other hand. "Sorry, that was kinda dumb to—"

"No, it's fine," I let out between chuckles.

"Okay, cool. C'mon." He pivots, yet keeps his eyes on me.

I step forward to align with him, and he resumes strolling. He stays by my side as he asks me about my flight and explains that the other roommate is guarding the car. Now, I find myself with a sense of belonging.

All beginnings are hard.

But all beginnings are not forever.