Hockey had been your thing since middle school. You were first exposed to the sport when one of your friends took you to a game. You were immediately hooked. The power these skaters had— the speed, the sheer strength and guts they all seemed to have— you wanted to be just like them. You begged your parents to sign you up for a team, swearing up and down that this wasn’t gonna be like the swim team— you were gonna stick with it. And you kept your promise.

You worked your way up in divisions, slowly but surely proving that you were a force to be reckoned with. You played on your high school’s team— you were good. Just as you were gearing up for another season, your parents sat you down. You were moving. To Seattle. Seattle?! After all the work that you put into your team, you were leaving? They practically had to drag you to the car come moving day. Sure, it meant that your mom would have a better job, but what about your friends? Your house that you grew up in? Hockey?

You slowly began to settle into your new life. Your mom and dad were at work more often, meaning you were home alone for a good portion of the week. Not that you necessarily minded—you were still pissed about moving in the first place. However, you still had hockey. When tryouts were being held at school, you showed up, skates in hand, ready to get back in the game. Your first thought? Holy shit, these girls are good. This was a whole new level of playing, but by some miracle, you just barely made the team.

You knew you needed to get better if you wanted to keep your spot. Sure, you were better than the Frosh-Sophs and the JV team, but what’s stopping someone who’s younger and better than you from taking your spot? But there was the captain of the varsity team— man she was good. After a few practice of getting your ass handed to you, you worked up the courage to ask her for help. Ha, nope.

“I don’t train newbies. That’s what the coaches are for.”

Wow. You’re not that rusty, right? You’ve been playing since middle school…