Baden (Pittsburgh Titans 1)

But Sophie reminded me it’s not fraudulent what I’m doing now.

Just new.

Another text chimes from her. There will come a day when this will seem like old hat. For now, cut yourself a break. Try to enjoy how monumental this evening is for you.

And just like that, I feel far more settled.

Sophie is probably here in the arena right now. I got good tickets—third row, center ice—for her and Frankie. After the game, win or lose, we’re going out for drinks.

I’m so glad she’s here. Because she’s seen me at my worst, I have absolutely no hesitation in admitting my insecurities to her. I know they’ll not be met with judgment. In that respect, she is somewhat of a security blanket for me, and I’m more than grateful to have her in my life.

I shoot a quick text back. Gotta turn off my phone now. I’ll see you after the game.

But I don’t put my phone away. I wait a few seconds because I know she’ll respond.

When it comes through, I can’t help but smile. You’re going to kick ass tonight!

And she put a heart emoji after it.

That heart changes the flavor of our exchange. It’s nothing but a small red icon, but it tells me she cares. The impact of that knowledge extends all the way down to my toes.

Sophie Winters is becoming a mind-fuck, but not in a bad way. Just in a way I hadn’t expected.

Most of the players have finished dressing and are undergoing last-minute prep, taping sticks and checking their equipment. I move over to my goalie—Patrik Stenlund—who actually got the nod to start tonight. While his attitude is nowhere near as pleasant as Jesper’s, the last two days he has shown a bit more technical edge out on the ice. Whether that will translate into withstanding the pressures of his very first professional game in this league remains to be seen, but he’s getting first shot tonight.

Regardless of how he plays, I talked it over with Coach Keller, and we’re going to let Jesper start the next game. We want them to have real, in-game experience for us to compare so we can decide who will eventually land the primary starter role.

The architect who designed the Titans’ arena clearly had a thing for oblong shapes. Not only is The Bowl shaped like the rink itself, so is the portion of the locker room where the gear cubbies are located. The cubbies make a three-quarter arcing circle rather than laid out in rows like we had in the Vengeance locker rooms. As such, there are no pockets for private conversation because everything is out in the open. I move over to where Patrik is fiddling with the straps on his goalie mask.

I clap his shoulder. “You good?”

He nods, the expression on his face determined and focused. “I’m good. Ready to get out there.”

And this is where I need to have the right motivational techniques to keep my goalie’s psyche at peak performance. “Just remember, if you perform the way you did in practices this week, you have the absolute ability to walk away with a shutout tonight. I don’t want you to think about this being any different from any game you played down in the minors. The caliber of players in the minors is such that you’re able to walk right into this league. You deserve this spot on the team, and you deserve the go-ahead to start tonight. You get out there, and don’t you forget that.”

He nods effusively, then moves his head side to side in a hyped-up need for motion. “Got it. I got this. I’m ready.”

“Deep breath,” I tell him. Because he may be a little too hyped up.

Patrik inhales deeply through his nose and lets it out slowly between his lips.

“Can you feel it?” I ask him.

“You mean that buzzing, electric vibe that feels like I just got hit with lightning?”

I laugh. “Yeah. I’m feeling it too. Everyone here is. Even the fans are feeling it. So while tonight is important to go out there and play your best and represent this team with a hundred and fifty percent effort, I want you to remember one thing that’s just as important.”

“What’s that?”

“Have fun. Enjoy this experience. You’ll never forget it.”

Patrik smiles and says something I know I will never forget. “Thanks, Coach.”

It’s the first time I’ve been acknowledged as a coach with gratitude for my guidance.

For the next twenty minutes, I move around the locker room, talking to various players, giving as much motivational support as I can. Everyone is bouncing with feverish anticipation laced with fear, and it makes for a volatile combination. It may be that they go out there and channel that energy into an amazing first-time win. It may be that they go out there and lose their fucking minds and fail miserably.