The morning skate was relativity easy, at least by Torts’ standards. Ryan actually wished she could have skated harder. In seemed that as the time before the game decreased, Ryan’s anxiety increased. She would have loved nothing more than to sleep away the time remaining before dinner, but she couldn’t fall asleep. Staring at the ceiling, Ryan tried to remember all the other first’s in her hockey career: the first time she put on skates, the first time she pulled on a uniform, the first time she played on a boys team because there wasn’t a girls team, the first time someone chirped her on the ice, the first time she fought, her first goal, her first championship, being drafted by the Ramparts, scoring her first hat trick, winning the Memorial Cup, being drafted by the Rangers, playing in the first preseason game. Maybe the passing of time and her changing perspective affected Ryan’s memory, but she didn’t remember ever feeling this nervous in her life.

“Hey, Ry?” asked Step, who Ryan had assumed was asleep, seeing as he hadn’t moved from the bed since throwing himself on it when they entered the room. Not even to get under the covers.

“Mhmm?” Ryan knew if she spoke, Step would know how nervous she was. He always knew.

“It’s not that bad. Really, Ry.” A silence settled over both of them. Ryan only realized she had fallen asleep when the siren-like goal song interrupted her nightmare, which had involved angry Penguins with blisters on their feet, yelling at her to slide on her stomach. Step and Ryan walked down to ballroom three together, Ryan making fun Step for the way his hair was sticking up the entire elevator ride.

“Look who it is!” shouted Boyler when the two entered the ballroom, which was being used as the team dining room. He threw his arm across Ryan’s shoulders. “Our own little Davey, about to make history. That is, if she doesn’t abandon us for the glamorous life of joining a team named after a flightless bird.”

“A flightless bird that shouldn’t be wearing skates,” added Step. The trio moved towards the table at the back of the room where the food was laid out. Hockey players are notorious for their pregame traditions, including meals. Ryan had eaten the same meal before every game she ever played, and it wasn’t a habit she planned on breaking before her first NHL game. Or ever, for that matter.

Ryan started to feel a little uneasy when she didn’t see her dinner, but was relieved to find it at the very end of the table. She picked up her Cup of Noodles and clear, grape flavored Gatorade before sitting down at table with Step, Boyler, Mac, and Hags.

“Davey, you just keep getting weirder and weirder,” proclaimed Mac after a few moments of eating in silence. “What the hell are you eating?”

“A Cup of Soup? It’s what I eat before every game,” Ryan shrugged.

“Why would you eat that? To clog your arteries with salt and cardboard noodles?” asked Boyler.

“Ha. No,” Ryan responded. “I was seven, and my mom had just been laid off. So she bought us some of these things because they only cost like forty cents apiece. I ate one with red Gatorade before the first game I ever played, and I scored two goals. So I’ve eaten it before every game since.”

“But why don’t you have red Gatorade?” Hags asked.

“My mom made me switch to the clear because she said the red would stain my teeth.”

“And you just gave up on your superstition?” joked Step.

“God, no,” said Ryan, “I fought her tooth and nail. She told me it would turn my teeth red, so I told her hockey players were always losing teeth anyway. She nearly made me quit after that.” The anecdote earned a few chuckles from the guys.

“Good thing you finally listened to your mom,” said Boyler. “Or you would be sitting in some college with red teeth instead of with us.”

“Wow, aren’t I lucky?” said Ryan sarcastically. But she really was glad she was sitting in a dingy hotel ballroom in Pittsburg, eating what was basically water and salt, and joking around with guys the a majority of people viewed as superstars.

~*~

To Ryan’s surprise, nervousness subsided the closer the game got. There were the usual jitters, but nothing to the extent she had experienced before the preseason game at the Garden. She was mostly worried the guys were going to pull a prank on her. She knew being a rookie and a girl made her a target, plus the first regular season game was a big stage. To her relief she made it to pregame skate without incident.

“Davey, why don’t you go first, since it’s your first game and everything?” suggested Hank while the team was getting ready to take the ice for warm-ups. Ryan looked right into Hank’s eyes, trying to discover if there was a trick. Ryan certainly thought Hank had nice eyes, but she never understood why so many people, including her mother, found them so irresistible.

“Sure,” replied Ryan with a smile, not finding anything concerning in Hank’s gaze. Ryan walked up the runway, relishing the sound of the crowd growing louder in her ears. The one thing she loved about playing away games was the crowd. Nothing could top the feeling brought on by thousands of fans screaming your name and encouragement, but the sound of the same massive number of people booing came pretty close. Ryan doubted if you could find better motivation to perform at your best than a stadium full of people pulling for you to fall flat on your face. Ryan barely heard the announcer introducing the Rangers over the sudden uproar of boos and jeers from the crowd. She took one deep breath before stepping out on the ice. She made it about five strides before she realized none of the guys had followed. Wonderful. There was the prank she had been waiting for. Ryan took a glance back at the guys giggling amongst themselves like teenage girls and sent them a cheeky wave as she was skating backwards before she continued her half lap of the rink. The guys joined her not long after, joking around about how oblivious she had been. Ryan was standing by the blue line, waiting for her turn to shoot on Hank when she heard her name being called. Not her nickname, but her real name.

“Hey, Davis!” The shout didn’t come from the Rangers’ side of the rink. Ryan turned around to find Jordan Staal gesturing to her on the Penguins side of the center red line. She started to skate towards him when Step grabbed her arm.

“What does he want?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know yet, do I?” Ryan continued to skate to center ice, Step right behind. “You called?” she asked Staal.

“Yeah. Um, I just wanted to say congratulations, and um, good luck I guess.” Ryan was surprised to hear how uncertain he sounded. “Some of the other guys wanted to say good luck too, but I think they didn’t want to start a line brawl by all skating over here.”
“Thanks,” she grinned. “Or maybe they were all too scared to talk to a girl.” Ryan was glad Staal laughed. She took off her glove and shook his hand before skating back to the rest of the guys.

“What was that?” asked a bemused looking Bick.

“Just wanted to say good luck. He said some of the others wanted to say it too,” said Ryan with a shrug.

“I was worried when you took off your glove you were gonna fight before the game even started,” joked Kreids.

“Yeah, well, I’d almost wish she had,” said Boyler, as they returned to the locker room. “Now that she knows they’re all friendly, Davey will really want to jump ship.”

“Guess you’ll just have to make the most of the time before I leave,” responded Ryan, just before Torts started his pregame speech.

“You guys know how it is,” he started, his gaze sweeping across the circular room. “These guys want this game bad. First game of the season. Home opener. Big rival. All that crap. But you need to want it more. This might not be the Garden, and those sure as hell aren’t your fans, but you need to show them who you are. How you can play a full sixty minutes of good, responsible hockey. Defense and offense. They won’t do that. Malkin doesn’t back check, Crosby doesn’t block shots. Use that.” Torts paused before his game rested on the rookies in the room. “This game might have a lot of personal importance, but it’s still just a game. There will be eighty one more, and hopefully more after that. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. This game could be all the difference. Between first or fourth place. Between playing a game seven at the Garden or god knows where. Between making the playoffs or teeing off some April. Give it all you got. So, Mac and G get the start, Kreids, Step, and Davey up top. Let’s go!” Ryan had noticed that as the season approached, Torts started to use the players’ nicknames as opposed to their first names. Except for Del-Z, he would always be Michael.

Ryan returned to the ice just as the starting lineups were announced. The other guys received their fair share of boos from the crowd, but they had something special for Ryan.

“Make me a sandwich!” they shouted before the announcer had even finished saying her name. “Make me a sandwich! Make me a sandwich!”

“Do you think we should tell them what happened the last time someone tried to tell Davey to get in a kitchen?” Mac asked Step as they skated to position for the opening faceoff.

“Nah, they’ll figure it out sooner or later,” Step replied.