When photography student, Willow Kennedy, gets offered an internship with her college's renowned ice hockey team, The Michigan Wolverines, she anticipates three things:
1) Her twin brother being an unbearable and over-protective nightmare.
2) Her...
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"Alright, you dicks! I'm only going to say this once so listen good."
The locker room falls into deathly silence. Each and every one of the boys giving Coach Madison their undivided attention.
I snap a picture of their focus.
One thing I really want to represent through my photos is the pure and complete respect they hold for their coach, and this moment displays that perfectly.
"This is our first game of the season. The first home game of the season. That means under no circumstances can we allow Boston College's dumb as fuck Eagles win on our turf."
I take a picture of Reese tying up a freshman's skates, not just because it's my job but also because it's adorable and Salma will want to see it.
Just performing my best friend duties.
"So, are we going to bend over and let those bastards whip us in the arse with their sticks, or are we going to get out there and make them cry?"
Coach Maddie is basically screaming at them- trying to hype them all up before they head to the tunnel.
Truthfully, these boys have been riled up and ready to go since the first one of them stepped foot in the locker room today.
She won't have to poke the bear too hard.
The Wolverines are ready for one hell of a fight.
"I expect top notch playing, ten out of fucking ten effort and the hunger for this win! Do I make myself clear?"
Every person in the room, including the physicians and training staff, chant out a 'Yes Coach!' and the team start tapping their sticks on the floor as their version of clapping.
I mean, when you're wearing gloves and holding a stick it's near impossible to start a round of applause.
"Now get your scrawny arses into that tunnel and make me fucking proud!" Coach Johnson roars, still standing on a table so she's taller then all the guys.
It's a power move. A power move I respect the shit out of.
The guys all scream and chant in unison, flooding out of the room and to the entry tunnel.
"Kennedy number two," I look up at her and suppress the laugh in the back of my throat when she drops back down to the ground and is suddenly a hell of a lot shorter. "Follow them to the tunnel, get as many pictures as you'd like, and then join me on the bench."
"T-the bench? I'll be photographing them from the bench?"
"Of course, I want you front and center. Now go!"
I try to not stumble in excitement as I jog in the direction of voices, assuming that's where the tunnel is.
As a hockey fan, who has become accustomed to sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs during games, the thought of being that close to the action makes my whole body light up.
