Page 5 of Slap Shot
“Remember when you came home from our five-game road trip last year and found that woman taking pictures of all your briefs?”
“Don’t remind me. I ended up on a damn Reddit thread.” I sigh, already exhausted. “I have an evening of interviews ahead of me, and none of them are looking promising. Where are the people who don’t care about who I am?”
“You’re one of the biggest names in the city, Hud. Everyone cares.”
He’s right.
It comes with being a professional athlete in a sports-obsessed town.
We have football, basketball, and baseball, but everyone lives and breathes hockey here.
When you’re part of a famed organization that finally won its first Stanley Cup after decades of mediocre performances, it’s impossible to go anywhere without being recognized.
At thirty-one, I’ve been doing this long enough to know the following is part of the job. Our fans are the best in the league, and I’d never turn down signing an autograph or posing for a photo with someone who comes and cheers for me night after night.
But personal space and privacy would be nice.
“So, what you’re saying is I need to put anything I don’t want to wind up on the internet in a locked box?” I drop my head back and groan up at the arena lights. “Great. I love being uncomfortable in my own home.”
“I don’t understand why you keep having this problem. With all of our connections, there has to besomeoneout there who can cook good food for you.”
“There are plenty of people who can cook good food. Finding someone who doesn’t stalk me online is the hard part.” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Let’s drop it. The more I think about it, the more tempted I am to live off ramen for the rest of my career. What are you doing today? Want to join me on a run with the dogs later?”
Maverick’s smile falls. “Emmy has a doctor’s appointment, and I want to go with her.”
“Doctor’s appointment? Is she okay?”
“She’s not injured. It’s to find out why we’ve been trying to have kids for months now and haven’t had any success. It’s weighing on me, man, and I know it’s weighing on her. Kind of makes the season seem pointless. How can I go out there and give it my all every night when I’m dealing with shit that’s so much bigger than hockey?”
“Hey.” I tug on his sleeve and point to the penalty box that’s far away from little ears. We skate over and sit on the smallbench. “Why did you let me give you shit when you were holding this in?”
Maverick was in his second year in the league when I was a rookie, and we’ve been buddies from the minute I joined the Stars.
Going from the youngest players on the team who used to be troublemakers to the oldest, our teammates looking to us for guidance has brought a kinship between us.
He’s easy to talk to. We spend our free time together. He’s been home to Georgia with me for the holidays and has even spent a week or two there during the summer. He stood by my side when my mom passed away. He let me cry on his shoulder at her funeral and told off a reporter for asking about my absence, earning himself a one-game suspension.
He’s my best friend in the whole damn world, more like a brother than anything, and to see him hurting hurts me.
“Because we always give each other shit.” Maverick bends and fixes his jeans over the top of his skate. “I’m tempted to retire. To get away from the limelight and focus on Emmy.”
“Are you serious?”
“Maybe. There’s so much going on up here.” He taps his head. “It’s fucking hard. I can’t imagine what you went through when your mom passed. This is small compared to that.”
“You saw what I was like. I was living in hell from the minute we found out she was sick until she left us. Even now, it feels like I’m drifting between living and surviving. I wish I could tell you the hard days get better, but sometimes you have to go through a lot of shit before you come out on the other side.”
“What helped you get through it?”
I’m not sure I’ve gotten through it, and I’m not sure I ever will.
I don’t think that’s something you move on from.
It happened so fast. Now and then, I think it’s all a dream. Some trick the universe is playing on me, because how do you go from finding your mom in the stands at every game to learning she has stage four breast cancer after a routine doctor’s visit to burying her five months later?
“You. Hockey. Rescuing Gus and Millie,” I say, mentioning my golden retrievers. “Being around the things that made me happy. They didn’t make me happy in the moment, but eventually they did. That’s different for everyone. Some people like to shut it out. Some people turn to vices. You have to figure out what works for you. If you want to retire, you know I’ll support you. The guys will support you. Emmy might try to kick your ass, but that’s between y’all.”
“I’m most attracted to her when she wants to kick my ass.” His dimpled grin is back. “I only have a few seasons left in me anyway. I know you were joking earlier, but I am slowing down. I’ve spent too many years giving my body to this sport. Maybe now is the time to go.”
