Page 79 of Tough Call

“To be fair, it was an accident.”

“So is tripping most of the time.” He shrugged. “Still a penalty.”

“There is that.” I glanced at him. “Have you ever gotten hurt while you’re officiating?”

“I mean, I get knocked around all the time, and I’ve been hit with plenty of pucks. But I’ve had to leave games twice.”

I glanced at him, eyebrows up. “Yeah? What happened?”

“Oh, man.” He exhaled. “The first time was my, like, tenth game, I think? Took a slapshot to the thigh. I had on pads, of course, but it was a Vasily Abaturov slapshot. Even the goalies limp away after one of those.”

“Fuck,” I whispered with a grimace. “How bad was it?”

“It was just bruised really bad, and I was sore for days, but it hit just right and I lost feeling in my lower leg.” He coughed a laugh. “Dropped me like a sack of potatoes. Couldn’t stand or skate for the rest of the period.”

“Ouch.”

“Right? The second time was last season during the playoffs. It was the conference finals, and you know how intense those can get.”

I nodded. There was nothing quite like postseason hockey, and the closer a team was to the finals, the more unhinged things could get.

“Yeah, so we had revolving doors on both penalty boxes all night. Everyone was spoiling for fights because both teams had been playing dirty throughout the whole series. It was just… I mean, I’ve officiated some chaotic games, but that one was something else.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Anyway, it went to overtime, so of course the intensity is off the charts. Everyone’s foaming at the mouth. We didn’t even bother calling a lot of the penalties or we would’ve emptied both benches.”

I laughed. “I’ve played games like that. They’re wild.”

“They are. So finally, they’ve gone a good two minutes without a whistle. Everyone’s getting chippy and tired. There’s finally line changes on both sides, and one of the guys from Philly comes flying over the boards and takes off toward the offensive zone. Right about then, I’m keeping an eye on the other bench because they’ve been coming dangerously close to too many men on the ice. This guy from Philly is focused on the O-zone, I’m focused on Charlotte’s bench, and—” Connor clapped his hands together. “We collided. I don’t even remember anything. One second, I’m watching the line change. The next, I’m looking up at stadium lights.”

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “How bad were you hurt?” My heart was pounding—I remembered hearing that a ref had been stretchered off after a collision during that conference final. I just hadn’t realized it was Connor.

“Oh, you know. Concussion. Whiplash.” He half-shrugged. “I was done for the season, but there was only one more series left after that anyway. I felt kind of shitty for a couple of weeks, and then I was back to normal.”

I whistled. “Fuck. That could’ve been bad. Like… worse.”

“Believe me, I know. The player who hit me ended up missing the Cup finals because he was worse off than I was. He fractured his jaw on the ice and messed up his neck.”

I sucked in air. “Jesus. But he’s okay now?”

Connor laughed. “He’s a hockey player, Madars. He could’ve been in a body cast with three limbs held on with sock tape and he’d still be week-to-week at worst. I mean, I saw the shit you played through in major juniors.”

Chuckling, I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. Still, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pfft. Sure you don’t. Unless you don’t remember—okay, maybe you don’t remember, but you had that nasty concussion you tried to play through.”

I waved a hand. “I was fine.”

“You were seeing double and couldn’t even talk without stumbling over your words.”

“I could still see the puck and the goal. I was fine!”

Connor laughed again, shaking his head. “Typical hockey player.”

“Typical ref—trying to ruin my fun.”

“That’s what I’m here for!”

We exchanged playful glares again, and both chuckled.

As we continued up the winding road that would eventually lead us back to Sevilla, we continued bantering about hockey, how much refs and players drove each other insane, and the injuries both would insist on skating through out of sheer stubbornness.