w 1 t n e s s

two

Game time. Finally. I watched Jon settle into the face off. I knew this game would be full of tension. The hit I'd taken had sparked an unfinished quarrel between the two teams. From my spot in a private box, I could zero in on everything that was happening. As much as I wanted to look for the angel, I couldn't take my eyes off the ice.

First a defenseman had the puck, taking it wide. My eyes flicked, following the small black circle. I predicting the movements of the Leafs players as if I was playing them myself. Pass up the left, intercepted by Olli Maatta. Pass from Adam to Jon. Jon trying to take it up the ice. Heavy check into the boards by a Leafs player. Leafs forward in possession, taking it right back down ice. Pausing in right circle, setting up, shooting. Glove save by Robin, dropping it around the back of the net for Duncan.

When the line change came, I knew the shift by heart. It was my line. Adam and Connor Murphy on D, Patrick Kane on right wing, Alex DeBrincat on left wing, and Kirby in my spot. My spot. Those were my guys, who I clicked so well with. Now Kirby was in my spot, taking all that glory for himself. I hoped my teammates crushed the Leafs like little bugs. They were the reason I wasn't down there right now.

I watched Kirby sailing across the ice, dropping a puck from the air and carrying it up towards the net. The Leafs players were all over Patrick, preventing any passing. Kirby tried a quick pass to Alex, but the puck went wide and flew around the crease. I watched the tiresome back and forth of the lines, neither team gaining ground. The remainder of the first period crawled by at a snail's pace. I was anxious by the amount of dirty hits that hadn't been called. We'd dealt a few of our own, but not nearly as many as the opposition. The score was still zero to zero. I hoped we'd get onto the leaderboard after the first intermission. At least now I had a few minutes to sit back and relax. Maybe I could wander to the souvenir store and see if anyone recognized me. I doubted anyone would. I was just a rookie, not as recognizable a face as Patty Kane or Jon Tazer. I'm not even sure they had my sweater for sale yet. Didn't hurt to try, though.

I pushed through the crowd, most people blissfully unaware of who I was. Funny, you'd think all these Blackhawks fans in one place would generate at least one person who recognized my face. Especially when my face was on posters. Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing a single stitch of Blackhawks attire. I could be a Leafs fan for all they knew. A few eyes lit up when they saw me, but no one stopped my leisurely walk.

Every time I saw a blue and white jersey paired with blonde hair, my eyes immediately searched the face of its wearer. It was never her. It was silly, being so hopeful for a girl I'd probably never see again.

To my surprise, the store in the United Center carried my jersey. The white number one seemed to sparkle under my name. I lingered by the racks, soaking up the look of my sweater. Before I left the store, I nodded to the cashier. The older woman winked at me, knowing exactly who I was. I was in the middle of purchasing a soft pretzel when commotion from the rink finally signaled the end of intermission. I headed back to my box, warm and fresh pretzel in hand.

Jon took the starting face off again, sending the puck flying backwards to Duncan. Our defenseman sent the puck up the left side of the ice, resulting in an icing call. I let out a sigh at the sound of the piercing whistle. This time, Zach Smith took the face off in the circle by Robin. He lost it to the Leafs forward, scrambling to find position as the puck was wrapped around the net. I slid to the edge of my seat, holding my breath as the puck danced dangerously close to a perfect scoring opportunity. Robin's poke check sent the black circle flying away from his crease. I relaxed, silently thanking the incredible skill of our goalie.

The second period went much like the first. No scoring, but plenty of rough hits. I had no doubt a brawl was set to break out. The boys were tiring. And fast. Kirby and Adam's rotation got a chance out again, replacing the third line. I was glad to see Dylan Strome on my line instead of Kirby. The relief made me guilty, but the ambitious and competitive side of me wanted nothing more than to be higher ranked than my fellow rookie.