Page 18 of Playmaker
Chapter 18
Sabrina
WHPL EXPANSION TEAMS PROVING TO BE SOLID CONTENDERS
Pittsburgh, Alburquerque dominate their divisions while Nashville and Denver make strong cases for wild card finishes
DENVER – Four of the six expansion teams added to the Women’s Hockey Professional League this season are proving their mettle right out of the gate. Five weeks into the season, the Albuquerque Ice Crystals (12-4-2) are just two points behind the Las Vegas Saints (13-2-3) in the Southwestern division.
In the east, the Pittsburgh Bearcats (14-3-2) are solidly number two in the Great Lakes division, and a mere two points behind the Toronto Ice Queens (14-1-4) in the Eastern Conference. If Toronto continues their current skid (four losses in a row) and Pittsburgh extends their five-game winning streak, we could see the new team taking that number one spot.
The Anaheim Blizzard (4-9-5) and Cleveland Rebels (5-8-6) have struggled to find their game. Cleveland appears to be rallying, winning three of their last four after an abysmal start. Anaheim seemed to do the same in late October, but after blowing three multiple-goal leads in recent games, it’s clear something needs to change for this team.
Both the Denver Stampeders (10-3-5) and the Nashville Outlaws (9-6-3) have established themselves as strong contenders for their respective wild card spots. Denver started their season weakly, recording three regulation and two overtime losses in their first six games. Since their disastrous 7-2 loss on October 15, the team has surged, boasting a record of 8-0-2 in their last ten, landing them firmly in the Western Conference’s second wild card position.
Nashville lost their first five games in regulation. General Manager Toni Cochran swiftly demoted head coach Lena Talbot to assistant head coach and hired Kristen O’Connor to the team’s helm. Under O’Connor’s leadership, the Outlaws have played 9-1-0 in their last ten games.
Denver plays at Vancouver tonight, and Pittsburgh hosts the Seattle Winterhawks.
GENERATIONAL TALENTS MAKING THEIR MARK IN WOMEN’S LEAGUE
Ivy Tanneson on track for second 100-point season; hockey legend Doran McAvoy’s daughter leading spectacular power play in Pittsburgh
LOS ANGELES – On the eve of Thanksgiving—often a point at which the playoff picture begins to take shape—several WHPL players are standing out with exceptional performances.
First overall draft pick Ivy Tanneson has amassed 14 goals and 17 assists after just 25 games, putting the Los Angeles right winger on pace for her second 100-point season. Fans and analysts feared her disappointing rookie season—20 goals, 9 assists—had been portentous for her career, but after corrective surgery on her wrist following the playoffs, Tanneson is back on her superstar trajectory.
A surprise talent is emerging in Montreal’s seventh round pick Noel Carter. Initially placed on the team’s bottom six to provide some depth scoring, Carter has soared to the top line. After 27 games, she leads her team in points (31) and assists (18), and she ranks fourth in the League for power play goals.
Montreal general manager Naomi Ouellette says Carter “has come into her own and found her stride, and she will have her name in the sport’s record books for sure.”
And in Pittsburgh, the McAvoy hockey dynasty continues to reign supreme. The daughter of the legendary Doran McAvoy and sister of St. Louis star Mark McAvoy, Sabrina McAvoy is living up to her name and her genes. She’s currently third in the Great Lakes division for goals and first in assists, and no one in the Eastern Conference has more points overall. Sabrina’s playing style has always been that of a playmaker, notching an impressive number of assists on her teammates’ goals. By contrast, her father was a record-setting goal scorer, but after just two seasons in the WHPL, Sabrina is on track to match or possibly surpass Doran’s point totals.
Of his sister, Mark McAvoy says, “I’m not at all surprised. I was there when she was tearing up the ice on a team of boys who were all older than her.” With a laugh, he adds, “If there’s any woman who’s going to make the jump from the women’s league to our league? It’s Sabrina. Guaranteed.”
Doran McAvoy did not respond to requests for comments on his daughter’s performance.
In the passenger seat, Zoe huffed sharply and put down her iPhone, where she’d been reading aloud the recent articles. “Are they ever going to be able to mention your name without bringing up Dad or Mark?”
I gave an irritated sniff and tapped my nails on the wheel. “They left Ty out this time, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”
“The hell you can’t,” she muttered. “Funny how they never call Mark the ‘brother of women’s hockey star Sabrina McAvoy.’”
“Yeah. That’ll be the day.”
“Right?” she grumbled. “Ugh. They don’t even mention that you’re the captain or that your team’s power play is number one in the entire league. Don’t they ever get tired of gargling Dad’s balls?”
The laugh that burst out of me almost made me run off the road, and Zoe giggled behind her hand. I playfully smacked her arm. “You’re so gross!”
“I’m not wrong, though!” She gestured with her phone. “I mean, they can’t even talk about your stats without comparing them to his. Like, why not just say you’re probably going to set a points record in the League instead of saying… that?”
I pursed my lips as my humor died away. “Yeah. It’s annoying. On the bright side, Dad probably won’t see it and get pissed off about it since he doesn’t read articles about women’s hockey.” Good thing, too—he’d bristled at the idea that his son might eclipse some of his records. He would not be pleased about anyone suggesting his daughter could do the same, especially since she was playing against women so it didn’t really count anyway.
“You never know,” my sister said. “He’s just narcissistic enough to Google himself.”
I groaned. “Ugh. True. Well, let’s hope he doesn’t read this one. That’s a phone call I don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t blame you. At least Mark has your back, though.”
At that, I laughed with more feeling. “He better. He knows if he’s a butthead, I’ll get into his league just to play against him and beat him.”
She giggled. “Those guys wouldn’t know what hit them.”
“Eh, some of them would. I’m pretty sure the guys I played with and against remember me.”
“Think any of them are still bitter over you beating them?”
I grinned. “Probably.”
We both laughed, and I continued driving. One guy from my U12 league had gone on to make the men’s league, and two more were in the minors. One of the two in the minors had been on a team that had threatened to forfeit a game rather than play against a girl. When it became clear that my coach wasn’t benching me, they’d grudgingly agreed to play. That kid had spent two minutes in the box for high-sticking me during the second period, and his coach had thrown such a tantrum over it—claiming it was impossible not to high stick a player as small as eight-year-old me—that he’d scored himself a bench penalty. In the resulting five-on-three power play, I’d scored, and the kid’s team had been apoplectic.
I wondered sometimes if that had been in the back of his mind that time in major juniors when he’d tried to fight my brother over something stupid. Like if he saw the name MCAVOY across Mark’s shoulders, and just sort of lost his mind. That, too, had cost his team a power play goal against. Scored by Mark, of course, since he hadn’t taken the bait and thus hadn’t taken a penalty.
The kid’s stick had been in four pieces when he’d emerged red-faced from the box.
Temper, temper, I thought, suppressing a laugh.
The GPS piped up and told me to take an exit off the freeway. From there, it directed us into a neighborhood in Wexford where some of my teammates lived, and a few minutes later, we parked in front of Coach Reilly’s house.
Usually a teammate—the captain or one of the alternates, typically—would host holidays, but since this was our first year as a team, Reilly had insisted on hosting Thanksgiving. Most of us were still settling into our places, and a lot of us had smallish rentals that might not accommodate the whole team. Next season, once everyone was more situated, it would probably be at one of our houses.
I wondered, not for the first time, if I should buy a place here. I liked my team so far, and I liked Pittsburgh, but this all felt tenuous. Maybe because I’d spent my whole life thinking hockey was a breath away from getting yanked out from under me. What if the team didn’t stay in Pittsburgh? What if I was traded? What if I didn’t get extended, or the fans lost interest in women’s hockey and the whole league evaporated?
As I got out of the car and headed up the walk with Zoe, I wondered if anyone else on the team or in the League felt that way. If there was this constant certainty that we were a collective flash in the pan, and once the novelty wore off, this would all be gone.
Given the ticket sales and the enthusiastic demands for more teams in more cities… we probably weren’t going anywhere.
Did that stop me from being absolutely sure we were hanging by a thread? Not even a little.
My train of thought derailed as soon as Reilly’s husband let us into the house. Most of our teammates were already here, apart from those who’d gone home for the holiday, and the house was alive with chatter and activity. Kids were playing in the living room, and adults milled around there as well as the kitchen, the TV room, and the back deck.
And I wasn’t even a little bit surprised when my gaze landed on Lila, and my heart did that familiar jump that I still didn’t want to think too much about. She turned my way and offered a smile too, and I suddenly needed a beer. Not for the alcohol—just for something cold, damn it.
I really should’ve settled things with her in training camp, so I could’ve had camp and the preseason to get used to this part. Not that it would’ve helped; it had been almost a month now, and I was still mentally blue-screening in her presence.
At least I was better about skating and playing hockey, though. The rest of the time? When we were working out or socializing? God help me.
And today, when she was wearing that dark red pantsuit and a pair of simple diamond studs? When she had that silver chain resting just so across her collarbones? Fuuuck.
She just looked so damn good .
It was hard to believe Lila Hamilton was screwing with my brain like this. Not because of the bad blood we’d had for a little while, but because I’d known her since we were kids. Like so many of us, she had still been in the awkward teenager phase during major juniors. We were all gangly back then, and some of us had still been waiting on growth spurts to mercifully show up. Which they did. Eventually.
When we’d gone to Worlds and to the Olympics, we’d mostly settled into our adult bodies. I felt like I should’ve had a crush on her back then, just like I should’ve been attracted to some of my other teammates and opponents. I probably had the inklings of crushes at that time, but I was so focused on hockey, I didn’t really give it any thought beyond telling people, “No, I am not a lesbian!” I’d been so deep in the closet that my passport was issued out of Narnia; I didn’t let myself notice other girls.
I had no idea if I’d have been into Lila back then had I accepted who I was.
Years later, though, with those awkward teen days an even more distant memory than my closet, Lila Hamilton definitely had my attention..
And eventually, sooner or later, I was going to figure out how to coexist with her without my mind going blank every time she smiled.
I wandered the party and socialized with teammates and their families until dinnertime. The meal was served buffet style. After we’d loaded our plates, we sat down at one of the two large tables that had been set up in the dining and living rooms.
I, of course, sat beside my sister.
The chair beside me was empty for a minute or so, but then someone sat down, and when I looked…
Oh God. How am I supposed to follow dinner conversation with you right next to me?
Lila gave me a smile, then focused on putting her napkin in her lap.
I took a deep swallow from my ice water. Not that it helped.
“Hey, Mac,” Laws chirped from across the table as we started eating. “That was a nice write-up about you. That article about you and Ivy Tanneson? That’s awesome.”
“Oh. Right.” I smiled thinly. “I’m glad to see Noel Carter getting some air time, too. She’s really killing it out there.”
“You are, too,” Laws insisted.
“It’s a shame they fall all over themselves to make everything you do about your dad and brother.” Sims wrinkled her nose. “Does that bother you?”
I admittedly let the mask slip a little. “It’s… I mean, it would be nice if they could talk about me as me rather than his daughter or his sister.” I huffed a laugh. “At least this time they didn’t mention that I’m his ex-wife.”
That had a few other people scowling.
“The dad and brother part would be annoying.” Val stabbed a piece of turkey on her plate. “But the ex-husband? Eww .”
Nods all around, and the support made me smile, if halfheartedly. “Yeah, it’s, um… It’s not fun. And like, this is our league. I’m sure my brother could do without always being compared to our dad, but at least they’re both in the same league, you know? Can’t we have our thing without constantly being compared to the guys?’
That prompted a chorus of “hear, hear,” around the table.
Beside me, Lila made a face. “The press and commentators really just can’t let you stand alone, can they?”
I sighed, bringing up my glass. “I guess it’s to be expected.”
“Maybe, but it’s still grating.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”
Our eyes met, and the subtlest wince in her expression made me regret my choice of words.
“But I’m glad no one here knows what it’s like,” I said quickly, “because it sucks. We earned the right to be here. All of us. The least they can do is say our names.”
“Damn right,” Laws said. “I’m glad they’re talking you up—I’m glad they’re talking up our league at all—but the clickbait is so transparent.”
“Right?” I rolled my eyes.
My sister laughed quietly. “They might as well just make a headline, ‘Hey Doran, Please Notice Me!’”
Everyone at the table laughed, and they were immediately calling out other ideas for headlines to kiss our father’s butt.
In the midst of it all, I glanced at Lila.
And she smiled, her eyes dancing with mischief.
What were we all talking about again?