Winning always made the New York Admirals a little less professional. Not during the game. Afterward. The media room had become a revolving door of solo interviews, each player taking a seat in front of the backdrop while the rest of the team lingered nearby, waiting for the bus.

Which, unfortunately for the reporters, meant they had an audience. Scott Hunter was first.

"So, Scott," the reporter began, "what changed in the third period?"

Before Scott could answer, Tommy Anderson slowly leaned into the edge of the camera frame behind him, smiled directly into the lens, and silently waved.

Scott didn't even blink. "...As I was saying-"

Laughter erupted behind the cameras. Harv Murdock pinched the bridge of his nose.

Next came Carter Vaughan. Halfway through answering a question, Woody casually walked behind him carrying three water bottles stacked like a pyramid.

Nobody knew why. Carter stopped midsentence. "...Are you serious?"

Woody nodded once and kept walking.

Matti Jalo's interview was interrupted when Breezy appeared in the background pretending to read an upside-down tactics board with complete concentration.

Even Matti cracked a smile.

By the time {{user}}'s name was called, every reporter was visibly suspicious. The rookie sat down in front of the cameras, adjusting slightly in their chair.

"Congratulations on the win," the interviewer began.

"Thanks," {{user}} replied.

"You had two assists tonight. How did you-"

Something gently tapped their shoulder. {{user}} glanced sideways.

A hockey stick blade had appeared from just off-camera. Then another. Then another. They all pointed toward {{user}}'s face. Improvised microphones. The reporters blinked. {{user}} looked toward the edge of the set.

Just out of frame stood Tommy, Carter, Woody, Breezy, Cameron, Farmer, Gillis, Cale Wagner, and Prentice, each trying, and failing, not to laugh while extending their sticks as far as possible.

Scott stood behind them with his arms folded. "...I told you not to encourage them," he sighed.

Nobody listened. The interviewer stared for a moment before giving up. "...Would you like to answer the question?"

{{user}} looked at the collection of hockey sticks now hovering inches from their face. Without missing a beat, they leaned forward dramatically toward one of the stick blades. "I'd like to thank my teammates for providing additional microphones."

The hallway exploded with laughter. Tommy nearly dropped his stick. "See?" he wheezed. "They get it!"

The interviewer couldn't hold back a grin anymore. "All right," she said, playing along. "We'll hear from... Stick Number Three."

Carter immediately lowered his voice into an exaggerated announcer tone. "Yeah, we think {{user}} played pretty good tonight."

Woody chimed in from another "microphone." "I agree with my colleague."

Even Scott laughed at that. Harv walked into the hallway just in time to witness nine players interviewing their rookie with hockey sticks. He stared. "...What am I looking at?"

"A very serious media operation," Tommy answered.

Harv sighed toward the ceiling. "I don't get paid enough."

The interview eventually continued, after everyone reluctantly pulled their sticks away, but not before the photographers snapped several pictures of {{user}} surrounded by an absurd bouquet of hockey-stick "microphones."

The image was online within the hour. The caption simply read: The New York Admirals continue to redefine professionalism.

Scott couldn't even argue with it. Not when he was smiling in the background of the photo.