In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

TWENTY SIX

"Come on, Jack, what's wrong with you?" Toffoli asks, slightly out of breath.

I grab the water bottle in front of me and splash water on my jersey, avoiding his comment as I try to refocus on the game. Glancing up at the screen, I see that the Maple Leafs are currently in the lead with a score of 4 to 1.

Luke managed to score the first goal of the night in the first period, but since we entered the second period, things have taken a downturn.

Toffoli persists, giving me a little push on my arm. "Nothing Toff, let it go," I grunt. "I made a pass, and you skated right over it. Come on," he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

As the game progresses, frustration simmers among the team. The Maple Leafs maintain their lead, and Toffoli's insistence on questioning my play adds to the mounting pressure.

Toffoli shoots me a look, clearly perturbed. "We need to pick it up, Jack. This is not the time to let mistakes slide," he emphasizes, his competitive spirit evident.

I nod, acknowledging the need for improvement. The atmosphere in the locker room is tense, each player grappling with the challenge of turning the game around.

As we prepare to head back onto the ice for the next period, the determination to overcome the deficit hangs in the air. The second period hasn't been kind to us, but there's still time to make a comeback.

The tension in the locker room is palpable as we gear up for the next period. The coaching staff delivers a motivational talk, emphasizing the importance of regaining control on the ice.

Each missed opportunity, every failed attempt to intercept or score, feels like a personal failure. The frustration builds, not just from the scoreline but also from the internal struggle I'm grappling with. It's a delicate balance between personal issues and professional responsibility, and in this moment, it seems like the scales are tipping in the wrong direction.

Nico places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Look, we've all had off nights. What matters is how we come back from it. Channel that frustration into your plays. We need you focused out there, if not were we'll be far from doing the playoff." 

I run a hand through my hair, the weight of the game heavy on my shoulders. "I know, Nico. It's just... I can't seem to get my head in the game tonight. It's like I'm letting everyone down."

As we walk down the tunnel, heading back for the third period, Luke passes beside me. He gives me a reassuring tap on the back, a silent gesture of encouragement that speaks volumes.

 As I position myself at the face-off, the arena's deafening roar and the pressure of the game fade into the background. My focus narrows to the opponent in front of me, and a silent determination settles over me.

The tension becomes tangible as we await the drop of the puck. The moment it hits the ice, the clash of sticks reverberates, signaling the start of a critical play. With a swift move, I manage to win the puck, immediately passing it to Jasper Bratt.

Jasper Bratt skillfully maneuvers with the puck, weaving through the opposing players. The arena buzzes with anticipation as our team executes a coordinated offensive strategy. I position myself strategically, ready to receive a pass or make a play if the opportunity arises.

As Bratt approaches the opposing team's defense, a series of quick passes and slick maneuvers create openings. 

In a split-second decision, Bratt sees an opening and takes a shot on goal. The puck sails towards the net, and the collective breath of the arena seems to pause. Jones, the goaltender, reacts swiftly, making a dramatic save. The rebound, however, offers another chance.