Thanatos
June 8th, 2012, 12:22 AM
The locker-room is usually home to the antics of those as close as siblings. There are jokes shared, heated debates, pointless arguments, and constant banter. Tonight the locker-room has a different atmosphere. Tonight the room is filled with little but silence. The only sound to be heard is that of soft breathing and the distant noise of the Zamboni finishing up. Some players have in ear buds, others rest their head in their hands, and still more lean back against the cool surface of the brick walls. The coaches have given their speeches, the Captains a few words of encouragement, and now there is nothing but time and thoughts. Thoughts of sweet victory and crushing defeat. Thoughts of glory and of despair. What can go wrong, what may go right. Thoughts of every play, bounce or situation that has a chance of occurring in the next 60 minutes.
All season has led up to this moment. Every game played, every practice attended. Every drop of sweat, every tear shed. All of it had been to get here, to arrive at this position. Despite that fact, it doesn’t matter what happened before. It doesn’t matter who won which regular season game. The goals you scored last time don’t count. The hit you threw and the shot you blocked are forgotten. This is a completely different event.
So, as the coach signals that the time has come, there is a collective sigh. Of relief to escape the vicious thoughts, of anticipation as to what shall occur, of sadness that this is the end. As you file out of the locker-room, that anxious quiet is replaced by the roar of fans, the cheers of parents, and the catcalls of friends. As you take the first strides of warm-ups the tension within you releases and is replaced by a fiery passion. As the first yell to your teammates escapes your throat, you suddenly feel more prepared then you ever believed possible. You realize that you have all suffered and succeeded together, and that you as a collective can accomplish anything.
The warm-ups end, and the team huddles at the net. By now all that needs to be said has already been stated. The Captain leading the huddle looks around, closely examining the group surrounding him. The group of strangers who have become his brothers, the group of former enemies who are now his friends for life. He keeps the huddle short and sweet, saying that no matter what happens out there, he is proud to have played with you all. After the normal 1, 2, 3, the starting line heads to center ice, while the rest of the team files onto the bench. The goalie scratches up his crease and checks his posts once more before dropping into his normal stance.
At center ice, the defense-men find the angles they like, and the teams’ wingers pair off. Before the centers even line up, the jostling for an advantage has begun. As the center slowly slides into position, he surveys his lineup once more. Finally, after a curt nod to the opponent, his head drops to the ref’s hand. The whistle is blown, the puck is dropped, and all is forgotten as instinct takes over.
All season has led up to this moment. Every game played, every practice attended. Every drop of sweat, every tear shed. All of it had been to get here, to arrive at this position. Despite that fact, it doesn’t matter what happened before. It doesn’t matter who won which regular season game. The goals you scored last time don’t count. The hit you threw and the shot you blocked are forgotten. This is a completely different event.
So, as the coach signals that the time has come, there is a collective sigh. Of relief to escape the vicious thoughts, of anticipation as to what shall occur, of sadness that this is the end. As you file out of the locker-room, that anxious quiet is replaced by the roar of fans, the cheers of parents, and the catcalls of friends. As you take the first strides of warm-ups the tension within you releases and is replaced by a fiery passion. As the first yell to your teammates escapes your throat, you suddenly feel more prepared then you ever believed possible. You realize that you have all suffered and succeeded together, and that you as a collective can accomplish anything.
The warm-ups end, and the team huddles at the net. By now all that needs to be said has already been stated. The Captain leading the huddle looks around, closely examining the group surrounding him. The group of strangers who have become his brothers, the group of former enemies who are now his friends for life. He keeps the huddle short and sweet, saying that no matter what happens out there, he is proud to have played with you all. After the normal 1, 2, 3, the starting line heads to center ice, while the rest of the team files onto the bench. The goalie scratches up his crease and checks his posts once more before dropping into his normal stance.
At center ice, the defense-men find the angles they like, and the teams’ wingers pair off. Before the centers even line up, the jostling for an advantage has begun. As the center slowly slides into position, he surveys his lineup once more. Finally, after a curt nod to the opponent, his head drops to the ref’s hand. The whistle is blown, the puck is dropped, and all is forgotten as instinct takes over.