Page 24 of Rookie Attraction
We lost.
We fucking lost by one goddamn goal.
I skate to the bench, head down, disappointment burning under my skin. I want to prove I belong here, but all I can think about is the mistakes I made. Did my fuckups cost us a win? Then I remind myself to check my ego. This is a team sport and it’s not all down to me. Like my former coach always said, we win together or not at all.
My disappointment is quickly replaced with anger when we go to shake hands with the opposition. Normally lineups are saved for the playoffs, but since this is a season opener, I guess we’re doing the formal thing. Several guys from Miami refuse to shake Sel’s hand and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Sel, of course, is classy and acts like nothing’s wrong, continuing down the line like he wasn’t insulted in front of thousands of fans in attendance, not to mention the media and anyone watching on TV.
Homophobic dickbags.
Since I’m the one behind Sel, I make note of the of the guys in question. I take their hand but don’t look them in the face and mutter “asshole” under my breath. Fuck them. I’m pretty sure that Makela, who’s behind me, can hear what I say, but I pray that the officials don’t. Even if I get caught, I don’t care. I can’t stand that kind of shitty behavior. Some of these guys are young, and yet their attitude is still old-school and fucking toxic.
Afterward, in the locker room, I sit in silence, peeling off my gear and barely holding onto my frustration. Sel drops onto the bench beside me, nudging my shoulder.
“Hey, cheer up,” he says quietly. “You played great. First games are always rough. And Miami’s a tough team to beat.”
“Thanks. I’m okay about the loss. I mean, I’m not okay, but I’ll deal with it,” I admit. “I’m upset about what those guys did to you afterward. It’s disrespectful and makes me furious.”
“I expected it to happen. It’s not the first time since I came out and it won’t be the last.”
I hate hearing the resignation in his voice, and I hate seeing him upset at all. He’s not the same person I met back at camp.
“You should make a formal complaint.”
He shakes his head.
“I’m better off ignoring it and focusing on my game. That’s the only thing I can control,” he replies. “But thanks for the support, Finn. It means more than you know.”
And just that like, the sting of the loss is already behind me.
Sel
Losing always burns, but this one I feel more than most. I’m self-conscious in a way I’ve never been in my career. Thank God I had Finn to keep an eye on during the game, or I think I would’ve lost it. And knowing he had my back in turn is the reassurance I need. It was enough to get me through the first game and hopefully, through what comes next.
There’s a press conference and I’ve been instructed to be there. With my off-ice armor—a.k.a. my three-piece suit—and my nerves at an all-time high, I head for the media room. Coach Range is already seated, as is Berg and Makela. I take the empty seat at the end and fidget with my jacket.
“Why am I here?” Makela complains.
“Because you scored tonight, and you deserve recognition?” Range replies.
“Always same questions about the goal. I do my job, I score. What’s to talk about?”
Good thing the mics aren’t on yet…
“Relax, Makela, you get the easy part. I’m gonna get the hard questions about why we lost,” Berg adds.
“We fucked up. Many times.”
Makela’s bluntness is amusing. Too bad I’m so nervous that my sense of humor is all but absent. Well, maybe not completely. I can think of one person who’s made me smile recently…
When I look up, I spot Finn at the back of the gallery, in a navy suit that fits him to perfection. Most of the other players are still in the locker room. What’s he doing here?
He offers me a thumbs up and I nod.
“The rookie did good for his first time,” Makela comments. “No puking and no shitting his pants either.”
“Funny.”
“This is no joke. Last year, the rookie actually shit his pants before every game. So disgusting,” Makela states with a dramatic grimace. “Thank fuck he’s playing for Minnesota now.”
