I stared at the pizza box in front of me, asking the fundamental question everyone faces in this situation: do I polish off the st two slices or stick with the six I have housed already?

  Double overtime came and went, and still there was no resolution to this winner-takes-the-series Game 5 in Olympia. Worse, it was a 0-0 tie, meaning there were no real momentum swings and scoring chances that could be analyzed and used to suss out future opportunities. It was the worst case scenario for me: two goalies going head to head and the first to blink lost his team a chance to keep pying in the pyoffs.

  My knee was throbbing. Not in a terrible way, but in a “I’m going to remind you that you’re doing something incredibly dumb, even if you can push past it,” kind of way. Worse, Brock wouldn’t even look at me. Probably because of superstition, but my anxious brain was not going to let this pass without catastrophizing. Why not take advantage of a perfect opportunity for self-sabotage even when the biggest game of my life, for this moment, was ongoing.

  So, I stared deeper at the two slices of pizza left in front of me hoping for resolution and maybe some guidance. Unfortunately, both my brain and my stomach knew this was one of those times where there was no rousing speech that was needed and I just needed to execute. It was down to me to make sure the puck did not go in our net, so that our guys could capitalize on the one chance that would get us to the division finals.

  Not that we knew where we were going mind you. Spokane and Bakersfield would be pying tomorrow. So, luckily whoever won this game would have an extra day of rest, as we would be watching tomorrow night. Then there would be a day off to prepare for the upcoming seven game series.

  That was thinking ahead though, we couldn’t afford that in this moment. We couldn’t slip. This is when a mistake takes you from a stern talking to from coach to sitting at home in the dark alone wondering what happened to the entire season you had before you. It was not a fun feeling. I heard stories of some of my teammates who were back at C of V wondering what they were going to do with the rest of their lives after Descartes beat us in the national championship. Diana was smart, she got me that contract that night so I wouldn’t dwell on what happened. My senior year may have been a disaster, I was prone to being in my head. She cut that off before it could become an issue.

  Now, I was on my own. Well, I had a team around me, but they weren’t the ones standing there putting their bodies in front of every single puck that’s going at the net. Sure they were sacrificing themselves up and down the ice and throwing themselves in pucks to prevent them from reaching me. But they didn’t need to have the reaction, the anticipation or the absolute heroics to make sure that they don’t slip up just the tiniest of a fraction of an amount which would end our season. No, this was on me. All me.

  That’s how it always feels doesn’t it? At the end of the day you can have a support system, but its up to you to finalize that st push to make sure you get over the line. Or in this case, make sure one very specific thing does not get anywhere near going over the line. I really wanted to speak up in this moment. Say something, say anything that would get us on the same page. But, I knew we were already there. Words were meaningless. Reasons or results, what were we going to give tonight? That’s what matters.

  I shove the st two slices of pizza in my mouth. I felt like I could eat a horse, and honestly I probably could. I must have lost at least three pounds tonight from sweat alone. If you’ve ever wondered why you see hockey pyers pounding pizza in between overtime periods its because we just need the fucking calories. Everything else is meaningless. Exhaustion was starting to creep in and my muscles beyond my knee were creaking. I was going to sleep like a fucking rock tonight.

  It was over in a fucking fsh.

  Nearly fifty-five seconds in Cude took a pass in the offensive zone and just fucking sniped one.

  I didn’t even have time to really center myself for the period, because we won the opening face-off, went into the offensive zone and had two shots on goal. The second one went in, and the comeback was complete.

  We had gone from being down 0-2 in the series to winning it. Three straight for the Mariners meant that we were now on to the true test of pyoff strength: seven game series. From now on each round was a best of seven format. We had the division finals, conference finals and then the UHL finals. Winning each round would entitle our team to raise a banner next year. Division champs, conference champs and ideally what we were all going for: league champions.

  Once again, I was getting ahead of myself. This moment, this pure moment of fucking catharsis the reminder that we were in fact quite a good hockey team despite what our record before the pyoffs started indicated was all that mattered. Spilling out on to the ice we piled on top of each other mobbing Cude deep in their zone as their pyers dejectedly waited for us to finish.

  Because of course there was still one important detail to iron out.

  The handshake line is one of those traditions in a pyoff series that very important people will tell you matters more than anything else. Its a show that even after beating the ever loving shit out of each other for as many games as it takes, both sides still have the honor and grace to look their opponents in the eyes and tell them, yes it was in fact a good series and the respect is mutual.

  So while we were in a dog pile trying to all shout our congratutions to Cude for winning us this fucking series, we still had some business to attend.

  I don’t remember anything said in the handshake line, but I did make sure to hug the opposing goalie for a few seconds. He tried to pull away, but I kept it going. I just knew that’s what I would have reluctantly wanted if the tables were turned. I don’t even know who Olympia’s affiliate team in the NHL is, so who knows if he has a shot at cracking a roster next year. I just wanted to remind someone that this is never quite the end. Even if in this moment it is the end of that story.

  The rest of the night started off a blur. Celebrations spilled into the locker room. None of us changed, but the beers were flowing. We all kept the drinking party going on the bus, as the driver went through the night to take us home. Coach wanted us to sleep in our beds the next two “nights” even if only one would be in the dark. It was around six am by the time we made it home, and while it may not have been the best idea for people to drive home, water bottles were passed around the st hour of the drive.

  Thankfully my apartment was close enough to the arena that it would not be much of an issue, and I made sure to py it responsible by the time 4 am hit the bus. Still, the camaraderie and singing was a perfect way to put this series behind us. We were gelling, and it was starting to show. However, eight games already being pyed in this pyoffs was going to put us on the back foot in the division finals. Whoever we were pying would be fresher and less banged up. It may not be a problem this series, but it would eventually come to haunt us. There’s no reason for excuses though, only you can control the number of games you py by putting yourself in the best position to py as few of them as possible.

  By the time I reached my apartment I don’t even remember entering it, as I was asleep before I could even think about it. I woke up on my bed the next morning still wearing my jersey. I took my pads off in the arena and managed to drag my giant ass goalie bag back home. Mind you I barely remember any of this, not because of the alcohol but because of just the sheer exhaustion pguing me.

  I reflexively checked my phone before getting out of bed, and saw a message from our team coordinator about how we were going to be flying to either Spokane or Bakersfield, so we’d have reprieves from the minimum of which would be a seven hour drive. Bakersfield was over 12 hours away, so a flight was non-negotiable there. We had to be ready to go to the airport early tomorrow just so we could get there, check in and have a team meeting to go over Game 1 strategy. Of course, I wanted to tell myself there would be other messages waiting for me from one person in particur, but it seems we really did leave on awkward enough terms after me sharing that I was going to push myself beyond what limits Brock though were healthy.

  Stumbling into the living room, I realized that something was going on the stove. Before I could register what that something was Jenna popped up with a cup of coffee and a hug.

  “You were incredible st night!”

  “Wait, you watched?”

  “Duh, loser. I watch all the Games with Sam. But, I was working. We kept the bar open te. Thankfully you guys scored when you did, we were just about to call st call for a bunch of drunk rural Oregonians in a tense pyoff game.”

  “That would have been a nightmare.”

  “Rhea, I wouldn’t be alive.”

  We both sat on the couch coffee in hand, I guess I was not the only one with a te night.

  “Are you cooking breakfast?”

  “Of course dork. You had a triple OT game st night.”

  “Its still so weird hearing you say the word oh-tee. I’m going to tell your friends back in college you’re a sports nerd now.”

  “Can it, loser.”

  “Are you doing this to impress your girlfriend?”

  “I said can it. And no, I just can’t ignore it with my job and well my circumstances. But its also kind of fun?”

  “I’m sure, its pure hell for me.”

  “We’re watching at home tonight, just you and me by the way.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says the girl who hasn’t had her best friend around because of these stupid fucking pyoffs?”

  “Fine, you’re lucky. I don’t think I have any pns tonight.”

  Jenna cocked her head at that one. “Lucky?”

  “Yeah, Brock and I. Things are tense. He thinks I’m pushing myself too hard, but also he’s thinking long term which is both cute and terrifying.”

  I then went into the full details about how my knee has been acting up, since I never really had a chance to talk about it with Jenna as it happened.

  “Rhea you need to tell me about this stuff.”

  “Jenna, I’m literally on the road nearly every other game,” I said ughing. “Plus, its fine. Cra and I are on it.”

  “I know, but also you pushing for that spot in New York is literally the only thing holding you together sometimes it feels like. If you lose that..”

  “Hey. Look at me. You’re not going to lose me.”

  “You say that.”

  “And I mean it.”

  “Okay, I just.”

  “You worry,” I said with a mock eye roll. “Like everyone else. But this is my body after all.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Plus these pyoff bonuses are going to pay for our rent in New. York.”

  “Our? Plus, who says I’d go with you.”

  “Come on Jenna.”

  “Wouldn’t you move in with Brock?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought. Maybe?”

  “Come on you two have the hots for each other, its totally going to happen if you both make the team.”

  “Well first we have to survive this fucking pyoff run without ripping each other apart for our perceived fws. Plus, would you really want to move in with me in New York? I’m barely around as is.”

  “Rhea, it was our fucking pn.”

  “I know! Sorry. Why are we talking about New York? We’re still in the pyoffs here.”

  “Sometimes I think about it you know.”

  “Me too.” Those words were heavy. Its easy to downpy a dream if you keep it at arms length. You don’t have to put yourself through the pain of seeing it not come to pass. Making the NHL was always an abstract idea this year, not something that seems to be a fucking conclusion for everyone but me. Was it even worth it? My body was rebelling against me in a pyoff series, what happens when I wanted to cw my skin out just thinking about how I still had a penis between my legs? No, I wasn’t doing this now. I was going to have a nice breakfast and day in with my friends, before the afternoon game between Spokane and Bakersfield.

  “Okay, enough downer talk for now,” I said. “Here’s the pn.”

  “Why do you get to make the pn?”

  “Because its my future this game determines.”

  “Ah yes, Washington State or California, the big future.”

  Shoving Jenna, I scoffed. “Yes, you dolt. We match up better with Bakersfield.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I’ll tell you about it during the game.”

  “You know whatever you say is going over my head.”

  “Something will stick. You’re the smart one. Plus, you can use whatever I say to get in good with your girlfriend. God I bet she just loooooves it when you talk hockey to her as forepy.”

  “God you are so fucking gross Rhea.”

  Smiling, I stood up and went over to the kitchen to pull out a menu for the local pizza pce.

  “We are getting pizza and more wings than god and terrible sodas and watching this game. Invite Sam over. It’ll be a girl’s day.”

  “This is some disgustingly sweet dream you had for yourself didn’t you? Just a bunch of girls sitting around in pajamas watching hockey together?”

  “I didn’t say anything about pajamas!”

  “Ugh, is this one of those weird versions of slumber parties you think we had? I just want to ze around today I worked so long yesterday.”

  “Me too, idiot. I’m so fucking sore. I want to gorge myself and see my friends before I have to spend three or four days in either fucking Spokane or Bakersfield.”

  “Okay fair. Those pces sound terrible.”

  “Can confirm.”

  “When are we going to get to go to real pces on road trips?”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, you’re taking me to LA and we’re going to see the Hollywood sign and then I’ll see cute celebs in the box the friends and families go to.”

  “Jenna, family barely travel with the team,” I said ughing. “Plus friends would have to pay for their own tickets like everyone else.”

  “What is the point of being a professional athlete then?”

  Deadpan I turned to her and said, “So I can pull girls in bars, duh.”

  We both lost it.

  “Are we good?”

  A simple text. One I sent after the first period, to Brock wondering why I still hadn’t heard from him even after our big win.

  “Rhea, put down your phone!”

  Sam was drunk at this point. Of course she was. Her and Jenna brought over a bottle of wine, despite me saying I was ordering soda with our order of 75 wings. And don’t forget the two pizzas. What can I say, I was fucking famished after destroying myself yesterday.

  The game at this point felt almost inconsequential. We couldn’t control who we were going to py, but 15 minutes in it was clear that it was going to be Spokane. They were up 2-0 early and if Bakersfield didn’t get their heads out of their asses we were going to have to go back to Washington state. I swear, I would rather go anywhere else on earth than Spokane, but, hey, a girl’s gotta eat right?

  “Huh?” I tried to py it off.

  “Watch the game you moron.”

  “Spokane has got this.”

  “Okay yes I know you know that but you’re not going to spend his entire time waiting for Brock to text you back because you’re afraid of how awkward things have been.”

  “And how do you know I texted Brock?”

  Both Sam and Jenna stared. And said nothing. Just pierced my soul with their withering gres waiting for me to fold and admit I did the thing I told them an hour ago I said I wouldn’t do.

  “Okay fine I texted Brock.”

  Jenna got up and forcibly took my phone away from me.

  “You’ll get this back once the game is over, sweetie.”

  “Sweetie? What are you a fucking high school teacher?”

  “Ooo I bet Riley would love that, she’s got that academic vibe.”

  “Shut up, Sam. You’re paying attention to US, Rhea. The two other girls in your apartment. Who you told me you wanted to have a girl’s day with.”

  At some point this supposed girls day turned into a day drinking session for those two, while I sat there sober and watched them get progressively drunk and sillier. I meant it when I said I was going dry for the pyoffs, the st thing I needed was to wake up with a hangover on a travel day. Beers after a series win were a different story. That was tradition. You don’t fuck with tradition. Team captain hands you a beer after you completed a three game win streak to win a five game series? You fucking down that thing while he watches until he gives you his approval.

  By now, I realized it would just be easier to lean in and let them have their fun.

  “Okay, okay. I’m paying attention. What do YOU want to talk about Sam.”

  “Who would you rather py?”

  “That’s easy Bakersfield.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re not that good, have had a horrid second half and we beat them our st matchup.”

  “What about Spokane?”

  “Oh my god enough about the hockey talk!”

  “Jenna, we’re literally watching a hockey game with Rhea, calm down. But seriously, why not Spokane.”

  “I mean I just hate the pce. I also get weird vibes pying there.”

  “Weird how?”

  “I think the Arena’s haunted.”

  “Wait, really?”

  “No. God no. Just weird people there. People say its like pying Salt Lake City in the NHL.”

  “Mormon’s are fucking terrifying.”

  “Yeah not only that, the seats just feel closer to the ice. Like they’re on top of you, ready to pounce. Gives me the creeps.”

  “But that’s likely where you’re going you say?”

  “I mean, yeah. They’re winning this Game 5.”

  Early in the second period Spokane, in fact, was not winning this Game 5. Bakersfield came out and scored on three straight shots. It was as if everything the team did right in the first period was a mirage and they suddenly forgot how to py hockey.

  “Holy shit,” I said to no one, now fully engrossed in the game.

  Tuning Jenna and Sam out was fairly easy after that. Spokane continued its slide into the offseason that period giving up a fourth goal ter. Down 4-2, things started to shift as it was clear that Bakersfield was letting off the gas slightly. A cheap goal with two minutes to go cut the deficit to 4-3 giving Spokane some life with the final period just ahead.

  The third period rolled around, and with it my third pte of wings. Seriously, I lost track of how many I downed but it had to be over 20. I pnned on eating more for dinner in a few hours and then a few in the morning, but that double overtime extravaganza really took everything out of me. The caloric deficit my body was facing felt awful, and gorging myself today was probably a terrible idea for ter, but so necessary in the now.

  I felt like a husk of a person, not emotionally mind you. Just physically ready to sleep for a week. And then I had to get up and do it all over again for potentially longer starting tomorrow. The thing people assume about the pyoffs is they think its about being the best team skill wise is what wins you a championship. No the pyoffs are a fucking slog. It is two months of pure hell pying at the highest level you can, hoping that you don’t slip up at all. The way to win in the pyoffs is to stay healthy and minimize mistakes. And today my self care was to eat as much as I physically can and rest as much as humanly possible. I know I wasn’t alone. The fab five group chat was active, sans Brock, talking about how they were eating their entire refrigerators while rexing. Most of them had a few beers, but no one even made it to Markus’ to watch the game. I don’t think anyone let their couches out of their sight.

  Spokane managed to take the game back in the third period. Bakersfield regressed from their surge to look like they had all first period and eventually two more goals from the team from Washington put them in the lead 5-4. They would not relinquish that lead, adding another two goals in the game to win by a convincing 7-4 score. Spokane scored five straight goals after giving up four straight in less than one period. For someone looking for high scoring hockey, this was a dream elimination game. For someone like me just seeking any sort of crity, it was something that did not offer much. What can you take away from this kind of game? That’s why I wasn’t on the coaching staff and was just a spectator. There would be time to analyze this, especially with a flight and some down time.

  “Rhea, are you with us?”

  “She hasn’t been with us since the first period.”

  Sam and Jenna by this time were fully sloshed.

  “Rheaaaaaa”

  Like, really sloshed. Somehow they found some liquor that Jenna had around the house and were pying a drinking game every time someone scored starting in the second period. That was nine goals worth of drinks that they had consumed.

  “What’s up guys, sorry this game kinda took over.”

  “Oh nothing, we’re just pnning what dress you’re wearing when you marry Brock.”

  “I’m not marrying him!”

  “Saving this for when you’re on your honeymoon.”

  “Jerks, the both of you. Now, let me make you a meal because clearly you were not eating any of the mountain of wings I bought for us.”

  “Wings are so gross, how can you eat them.”

  “Calories,” I said shrugging.

  If there was one thing I learned from three years in college it was how to handle some drunk white girls. But, I wanted to have some fun in the meantime, while I prepped some food for them to eat and gave them a pce to rest at like 5pm.

  “Sam, when are you going to ask Cra out?”

  “Oh my gosh, Sam you gotta! Let me have your phone!”

  “Jenna, stop it! God!”

  “No, I want it now!”

  Perfect, those two had plenty to go back and forth with, while I could prep them something to eat and quick. I managed to whip something up fast for the both of them, while getting them hydrated, and situated on the couch. They would be staying the night, and frankly I think both would be fast asleep in just a short time.

  Meanwhile, I had to start packing for Washington. The first two games would be in Spokane, before coming home for two after. So that meant a travel off day, then a game the day after that, another off day, possibly a second, and then a game. It would not be until the day after we flew back, so we are looking at four or five days again in Washington State. I really hoped we could win this series in less than six games. I’m getting real tired of these long series’ and we still at possibly three more to go. That’s about 16 to 21 more games we’d be fighting through before the season was over if, and only if, we were to end with a ring. This ride could end at any moment. But, I desperately did not want it to. Thankfully my knee held up today and it looked like I was going to be in full maintenance mode the rest of the pyoffs. I really just needed things to hold up, but there really was no telling where things would go. I sent Cra a text today saying we needed to talk before Game 1, but didn’t specify more. I was going to press her about pain injections and what damage they could to do me. I was back, and I needed top stay there. No one else was going to win these series’ for us in net. But, if I was covering something up that would cause long term damage, I made a promise to Brock that I wouldn’t risk that.

  So, I just needed to know how far I was going to be able to push this. I wanted to go all the way. I think deep down I realized I needed it. I don’t think there’s going to be a “next time” after this. Be it in the UHL or NHL. I was standing on the edge of a precipice and I needed to know if there was a rickety bridge I had to cross, or if it was time to dive in and embrace the unknown.

  As I nearly finished packing, I heard my phone go off. I had slipped it back from Sam when she was overly drunk checking again during the end of the third to see if Brock got back to me. He hadn’t.

  But now, I saw the message and realized he finally fucking had.

  “Hey, sorry have a cold from everything., Was wiped all day. We’re fine. See you tomorrow.”

  And for the first time since we finally admitted feelings for each other, I wasn’t 100% confident that what he said was correct.