Tyler Percival
English 15 Section 004
October 6, 2014
The Hockey Team
The semi finals of the Flyers Cup, a stage for only the best four teams in Eastern
Pennsylvania. As I strap on my goalie pads and look around at the boys in the locker
I can not help but think about how this could be the last game I ever play in a West
Chester East hockey jersey, a thought that should not enter my head before a huge
game like this, but one that is impossible to keep out. These boys are all my
brothers, especially the other seniors that share the same thoughts as I do. That
locker room has been my home for years and holds so many stories shaping who I
am that I could not even begin to recount a fraction of them. Across from me sits my
best friend, my defenseman, and my fellow alternate captain, Jeff. He laces up his
CCM Crazy Light skates, quietly humming along to the rap music that blares in the
locker. Where he usually is talking and socializing with the team, he is now focusing
on the game. His usual light mannered gaze and persona replaced by the meticulous
attention to gearing up for the battle. Our captain, Pat, another senior that I have
been playing with for my whole life, rallies us in the middle of the locker.
“Tonight is our time to show everyone that the 8th seed is not what we deserve in
this tournament, show them that we are the best team and that we play like it every
night we hit the ice. Let’s F***ing go boys. Battle on three, 1 2 3!”
“Battle!” The team cries, the excitement and nervousness in their voice.
Pat does not have the voice of a captain, slight and quiet, but confident in his words.
What he does have is the heart of a captain, giving everything he has every time he
hits the ice, setting the bar for the rest of the team.
We have been in this situation before, just last year we had won the Flyers Cup and
gone on to win a state championship. So the experience was there with most of the
team, but for some reason this game meant more, I guess the whole senior year was
getting to me.
I looked around at my brothers and prepared to go to war. Our coach, Drew, gave us
his speech, and fire was in the eyes of the team.
“Play smart, play with heart, and don’t forget that sack of marbles!” He always ended
with this, and we stepped out of the room. We walked own the hallway and out to
the ice surface, our peers cheering in the stands, I looked up to see everyone losing
their minds. The fans gave me the confidence that really changed me in high school.
I suppose being the goalie of a championship hockey team can be a self-esteem
boost.
But the fans did not matter to me at this point, I was there to play for my team. Not
for my parents, not for my friends, not for myself. For the group of guys that were
out in front of me, For The Boys, FTB, as we say. A saying I had written on the inside
of my helmet so that I would never forget the stakes.
The game began and it was a disaster. Pat took a dirty hit on his first shift of the
game, knocking him out with a concussion for the rest of the tilt. The team was not
the same after that, our captain could not play in the biggest game of our lives. We
competed and fought until the end, but it was hardly a contest. A 7-2 blowout. But
we never rolled over, with 7:30 left in the third period and a 6-2 score on the board,
a player on the other team stole the puck and was out alone on a breakaway. With a
score so lopsided already, there was no point in anyone trying to catch the player,
but one of our best players, sophomore Chris Rodier came flying back to knock the
puck off of his stick and returned to the bench completely out of gas from his sprint.
Never say die, as Coach Drew put it.
Right before a faceoff in our zone, I looked into the eyes of one of the most stoic men
I know, senior defenseman Joey Lenoir, and seeing the water building up behind his
blue eyes. It was one of those moments that really put into perspective how much
we meant to each other. I could not stop my self from crying with 6:05 remaining in
the third period, the end was inevitable and it hit me like a freight train. The last
time I remember truly crying like I did then was when we had to put my dog down
in 7th grade.
When that final buzzer struck the boys that meant the world to me almost
immediately surrounded me. My emotions were unreadable, I heaved my stick at
the glass, cried, and smiled, at least I knew I was not going through this alone. No
moment in my life had been harder to get through than this was.
The locker room was the same dank, sweaty smell that I remembered from my
childhood, odd how comforting that scent is. Sniffles and the sound of Velcro filled
the room. I could not bring myself to take off that black, red, and gold jersey that
had seen so much through the years. I ran my hand through my long hair, a staple
hockey look, it was still wet from the battle, and the memories came flying back
along with another round of tears. All the long practices, the skates that pushed us
to the edge but no one ever gave in, the locker room stories, singing along to “22” by
Taylor Swift after every win, the laughter, the jokes, the hockey confidence that we
all had. It all came rushing back.
“Get yourself together, you loser. Quit the crying.” I kept telling myself, but I knew
the words were empty. My alternate coach, Matt, came and put his arm around me.
Matt had coached me for the past four years, two as my Junior Varsity head coach
and two as an alternate coach for Varsity. We had been through a lot together, he
had yelled at me, praised me, and above all, always had my back through thick and
thin. I truly connected with Matt, he knew all my odd quirks, how I put my leg pads
on outside the locker to escape the chaos and zone in, how I always took two sips of
water between periods and he always had that water ready for me, how I never
wore a mouth guard. We went through a lot over those four years and it had come
to such a sudden end.
“Keep your head up, Ty, you’ve been the cornerstone of this team from the time we
started last season to the end of this one. Never forget that. Coaching a team with a
goalie like you mad my life a hell of a lot easier. It’s been a pleasure.” He said with
his arm around me, words I’ll never forget. All I could muster was to look at him and
give him a teary eyed smile and a nod of my head.
After Drew gave a moving speech about how much he cared about us, to keep our
heads up as it was just a hockey game and it was all about having fun, which he
knew we did, he came to me and sat down next to me. He said one simple sentence
that I could not possibly forget.
“Ty, you are the fiercest competitor, one of the best leaders, and the best goalie I
have ever coached.” And for a guy that had been coaching for almost 15 years, that
meant more than the world.
Then something funny happened, Pat plugged his iPod into the speaker and an all to
familiar beat came on. We all sang along to our victory song, “22” by Taylor Swift
one last time. With tears in our eyes and smiles on our faces we sang along at the
top of our lungs, the seniors joining arms. After all this I was finally able to take off
my jersey, and I did so with a smile. It had been there for me through the best and
worst times of my life, a range of emotions I could not even try to describe, and it
was the symbol of one of the greatest group of guys, a group I could not have been
more proud than to call my brothers.