Miracles Exist

Costume Parties and Diners

Skates gliding over the ice-filled my ears as I held the hockey stick in my hands. Racing towards the net I pushed the puck with my stick, always keeping contact with it. Raising the stick back, I swung it forward, slamming the puck and shooting it into the top left corner of the net. Making my way to the center of the ice, I winced at the sharp pain in my knee. It still hasn't fully recovered yet and it's pissing me off so much. Exhaling deeply, I watched the fog that escaped my mouth before slowly disappearing. I lined up a couple of pucks before shooting them all into the net. 

Once that was done I started doing slow laps around the rink, trying to exercise my knee a little more, forcing it to bend and stretch. Thirty minutes later and I was off the ice. Looking down at my knees, through my leggings you could see one was completely swollen. After ripping my gloves off and unlacing my skates, they ended a few feet in front of me after being thrown in frustration. My heavy breathing was all that could be heard in the silent arena.

"Everything alright Alyssa?" Sighing, my eyes met those of my father, Herb Brooks. 

"Yeah, everything is fine. Just have to go home and ice this up," He nodded understandingly. Concern filled his eyes, he knew how much this accident actually affected me, given since he too was denied the opportunity of playing in the 1960's Olympics. If it wasn't for this accident, I would've qualified for this years' team. But now I can't and I have to get over it. Dad sat by me and handed me my knee brace. Grateful for stability, I thanked him and slipped it on. Feeling that sort of pressure, the reassurance of stabilization, given that the knee still wasn't strong enough to handle my weight, was a relaxing feeling.

My legs were burning and aching due to the fact that after the surgery I started slacking off. It has strengthened faster than most knees that undergo this surgery, but it's only because I'm always on the ice and at the gym training with some of the players, just not fast enough.

"When are you meeting with Colorado?" Looking over at me, he was silent for a second before replying. 

"I'm flying out there tomorrow." 

Nerves and excitement bubbled in my stomach since I desperately wanted dad and me to coach this years' Olympic team. It's been my dad's dream ever since he stopped playing and it's been mine ever since I too stopped playing. 

"You're getting that job, I'm sure of it," He gave me a pat on the shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"Let's hope you're right," After my shoes were tied and my skates and gloves were in my bag, we made our way out of the rink and onto the warm, Minnesota weather. Shoving my bag and stick into the trunk, I slid into the passenger seat before dad drove out of the parking lot and towards home.

- - - - -

"Hey," Glancing away from the Coneheads on t.v., I saw that mom was talking to dad who just walked in through the front door. His coat was drenched in water, from the pouring rain outside. 

"It's coming down out there," He made a gesture towards outside before shrugging off his coat. Positioning myself on the couch, my knees were on the seat, my hands holding onto the back of the couch as I leaned forward eagerly. He walked through the hallway and glanced around.

"Hey, where are the kids?" I looked over at mom who made her way over to him. 

"Oh, I gave them away," I stifled a giggle at her overly used joke. 

"How was it?" He glanced at both of us before heading into the kitchen. 

"Eh...I'm not their guy. You know the only reason they had me come up there was because two other coaches already said no," My shoulders slumped and I sat back on the couch in a normal manner. I was absolutely gutted, this has been his dream for as long as I can remember. Grabbing a cup from the cupboard and some water from the fridge, he shut the door and looked at us.