Hayes (A Carolina Cyclones Story)

35.

Hayes

I've always loved the moments before a game. Especially a game as big as this. The adrenaline coursing through my veins, my teammates bouncing nearby, everyone tuning themselves in however they go about that.

As team captain it's in these moments that my role is really necessary. They need encouragement, they need inspiration, tonight they need to believe that the win needed to send up to the cup is ours for the taking. Because it fucking is. This is our year. It's what I've preached in here since training camp and my message today won't waver from that.

"Last summer we walked in here hungry. For five years I've watched as this team has earned its stripes and grown into the fucking force we are now. We've spent the whole season waiting for this moment. Waiting to be here. Here on the cusp of moving forward, of taking the first step to what might as well be our damn destiny. Tonight we can take that step boys. Tonight we win. Tonight we move to the second round. One step closer to bringing the cup home to Charleston. Are you with me?"

A chorus of "fuck yeah" and "damn right" and variants echo back to me as my teammates high five and head for the hallway to wait our announcement on to the ice.

I bounce on my skate blades, trying to shake off my nerves. The announcer calls out for us and we move, like a moth to a flame we rush towards the ice, skating out one after the other until our whole team floods the surface of the ice, letting every cheer and chant from our fans wash over us. Prepare us for this moment.

Inadvertently my eyes immediately begin to scan the crowd, it doesn't take long for me to find the section where all of our friends and family are sitting. They're rowdy and my heart damn near doubles in size when I spot Maggie among them, she's screaming her heart out, blowing me a kiss as I wave like a dork from the ice. My number is painted on her face in teal and black paint which all the significant others seemed to have done and I love that. From the moment I met her I knew she was perfect, that she'd fit right in to the little family we've created since the Cyclones came to be. Seeing it in person confirms it.

"You know she's way out of your league right?" Jax says with a chuckle as he skates by me  as we head to the faceoff circle for puck drop.

"Fuck you." I laugh, shoving him.

"I'm just saying, sure she's happy with you now. But wait until she gets a good look at all this."

He's joking. Or at least...I'm pretty sure he is. The way he says it though, or maybe it's my own insecurities coming out coupled with his notorious reputation, but something about that comment rubs me the wrong way and I find myself thankful that it's only a moment later that the ref releases the puck and the most important game of our season begins.

New York is a good team. They're big and fast and mean. The bad news for them is that so are we.

The game is physical from the start. The other team is desperate, a loss for them tonight means the end of their season. Desperate teams do desperate things and tonight that proves true, their undisciplined with their sticks and we're less than five minutes and a few shifts in when they get called for their first penalty for slashing on Storm, one of our newly acquired players, who heads to the bench to staunch the bleeding from the fresh cut on his cheek while the player from the other team heads to the penalty box, putting us on the power play.

The man advantage has treated us kindly lately, thankfully and I don't plan to let that end here. Our unit filters on and Wesley finds an opening quickly. We're less than thirty seconds in to the powerplay when he peels off on a breakaway and I scramble after him to provide support. Not that he needs it though. He beats the penalty killers down the ice and finds himself in a one-on-one with New York's goalie. That's more bad news for New York. Wes fires off a perfectly placed slap shot and finds room top shelf, giving us the first lead of the game.

*

"WE GETTING LITTY TONIGHT!" Jax yells through the locker room. A rousing chorus of cheers of agreement bouncing off the walls. We shut out New York to seal this round of playoffs and cement our place in the next round. A four to nothing win is nothing to be shy about and we've all definitely earned a night out.

I, however, have a hard time cheering with Jax, his comments from before the game still don't sit right with me. I also don't really love the idea of our party boy, who's supposed to be keeping a low profile, going out to get shitfaced.

Maybe I should say something. I probably should say something. But I'm not sure it would be the right thing and I'm quite enjoying the top of the world feeling that win gave me and there's only one person I'm thinking about celebrating with. And if she's held true to her word she'll be waiting for me at home, in nothing but the jersey I gave her, with my name spread across her back the way I want my hands to be shortly.

So when the guys turn to me to ask if I'll be joining in for the team celly I tell them to go ahead, the kind of celebration I'm picturing in my mind, involves me, Maggie, and as few clothing items as possible.

I think my idea of celebrating sounds a hell of a lot better than the bar.