Practice makes perfect, and when you're fighting to be the best in your sport that is especially true. Ryder and Francesca are no exception. They are dedicated to their sport and refuse to let anything distracted. But when a scheduling conflict forc...
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Walking to the office I am hoping Josh isn't in there. I can't face him right now and see the disappointment. I still can't shake the feeling the loss was my fault. That somehow I let my team down. I missed a penalty shot which would have tied the game up in the third and at least given us a chance to win in overtime. But I missed and with that miss went our perfect season, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
When I open the door to grab the cones Josh looks up from his computer. I stare down at my feet and shuffle in further to grab the cones. "It was a good game," he says softly but I can hear the edge to his voice. It was a good game, a good game we should have won.
"Yeah." I adjust my hat and finally look up at him. Three years and I still expect him to react the way my dad does. But instead of disgust and disdain I am met with a soft look, the pride is still evident even if I feel unworthy of it.
"It is a game Ryder, life is so much bigger than one loss."
I nod but it feels so much bigger than one loss. The 1947-48 season was the last time we ever came close to an undefeated season and this season was supposed to change that. We were supposed to go all the way, make college hockey history and be the first undefeated team since the 1970s. We made it so far, 28 wins and now one fat loss.
I have nothing to say, so I leave the office with the cones and set them up on the ice. The line is a mess, my head is just not in it and I know Francesca is gonna get on me for it as soon as she arrives. I am actually looking forward to her getting here, the distraction from replaying the game over and over again will be nice.
I hear the front doors opening as I lace up and I wait for her comment about the cones. Instead the first words she says to me is like a slap in the face. "So much for being undefeated, we all knew that wouldn't last."
I look up at her about to fire off a string of insults and low blows, but when I look up I stop. The pain on her face is double what I feel and as the tears well up in her eyes, I have to look away.
"I am sorry," she whispers.
"Rough weekend?" I don't need an answer to know it was. The pain, the lashing out, the tired look like she hasn't been sleeping, it gave it away instantly. Failure is not something people like us handle well, it eats us up from the inside out.
"The worst weekend of my life." Her voice cracks and the sting of her comment vanishes. I have been a horrible person to be around since our loss and we only lost by a point. I am sure if I knew her weekend was bad I would have been just as dicky to her as she was to me.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Can we just skate? I am tired of talking." That I can relate to on a deeper level so I rise while she finishes lacing up and wait for her near the entrance. She follows and I let her step on first.
As soon as she is on the ice, she skates over to the cones and picks them up. "I am not practicing today, you can have the whole ice I will stay out of the way."
