Logan
Losing to Chase had always felt personal.
Even when the scoreboard said otherwise.
I could blame the defence.
The missed rebound.
The poor clearance in the final minutes.
The referee who ignored a hold near the boards.
There were enough moments in every game to build an excuse from.
I knew how to do it.
I had done it for years.
By the time I entered the locker room after the first playoff match, the familiar anger had already formed.
Not loud.
Cold.
Sharper because I had congratulated Chase before leaving the corridor.
The handshake still felt strange in my palm.
He deserved the win.
I had said it.
The statement remained true.
That did not mean I enjoyed it.
I sat in front of my stall while the room filled with the sounds of equipment being removed and frustration
