Shutout

Chapter 10 - Logan

It's a longer flight than I would have imagined to get from Indianapolis to St. Louis. My geography education has failed me because I thought they were relatively close together, but 3 hours and some change is not close to hockey standards. 

It's officially the middle of pre-season. We've already played three other games so far for shits and giggles and to access the rookies. There are only three rookies this year for the Cardinals. Two wings and a center, the wings coming up from the AHL and the center having only been recently drafted. It's always kind of wholesome to watch them play their first NHL game. You can tell how outlandishly nervous they are with all the stupid little mistakes they make once they're on the ice. But we've all been rookies at some point, and it's only the pre-season, so we slap them on the back and commend them for their effort. 

There is also one other trade other than me, Colt Fuller, who showed up a few days before the preseason began to be another defenseman. I haven't talked to him a whole lot as he stays usually with the defensemen, but he seems fine. We've both been played more than we likely will the rest of the season, just to see what we've got. But I'm proud to say that I've been performing pretty well. We've won two of the three games so far, which is decent. 

The night before our first game on the road, I stayed awake with unshakable anxiety. All I could think of was, what if they aren't comfortable changing or sleeping in a room with a gay guy? None of them have indicated any real discomfort being around me, but I can't help but think of the homophobic jokes I've heard throughout my life. What if they think I'm a perv and do something in my sleep? 

The next day when we actually began travel, I was exhausted to the point that our goalie coach said something about not getting to play if I looked as shit as I did. That night in the hotel room that I shared with defenseman Jason Becez, I struggled to keep my eyes open in case something happened. In the end, I fell asleep and awoke exactly as I had when I went to sleep. Nothing happened despite my fears. It was fine. Everything is fine. 

"You look like you're constipated."

Bad showed up out of nowhere in front of my stall to confront me about my face, which was not fine. But it is what it is, and I try to recover by scoffing. 

"Pot meet kettle."

Bac stared at me for a moment before announcing, "I don't know what that means, so I'm going to ignore it. Is something wrong?"

Porter, from the locker stall next to mine, glances at me as if suddenly interested in me. As another goaltender, I've said maybe ten words to the guy. I can't tell if it's because he stays to himself or he doesn't like me, but he hasn't been outwardly hostile in any way, so I've been trying to ignore it. 

"No? I guess that's just my face. Thanks for noticing."

Bac shrugs, already dressed in everything but his skates and helmet, "Maybe. Anyway, since we're staying the night here, do you want to go out with me and a couple of the guys after the game? We're going to go to a pub downtown that I found a couple of years ago."

I chew on my lip, still tightening my own skates. I'm honored to be invited, but part of me feels like it's a sympathy invite. Who honestly wants the gay guy following you around while you're trying to get drunk and pick up girls? But, at the same time, this is a perfect opportunity to get further ingrained in the culture of the team. And I like Bac and the guys he hangs out with, the other younger team members–the younger, unmarried members, to be specific. 

So I slowly nod my head, "Sure."

That makes Bac break out into a smile. He leans forward to roughly pat my shoulder, "Awesome. We'll drop our shit off at the hotel and take a couple of Ubers or something. Until then, protect our net."