Triumph {The Manhattan Trilogy #3}

All-Stars Part 2 (M)

It would be difficult for something to spoil my current mood.

I just won the Accuracy Shooting contest at my league's All-Star competition, and I am walking hand in hand with my amazing girlfriend down to the dressing room. There, I will receive a small trophy with my own name on it, proving that I represented my division well in the All-Stars.

Suddenly, my girlfriend Ryan shouts, "What the hell!"

I snap my head up and see none other than her father standing before us.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Ryan screams. "You wouldn't even let me come to this thing because of my boyfriend's nationality and religion, and you dare to show up after that?"

"Ryan, I came to apologize," Mr. Jensen starts, but his daughter interrupts him.

"For what?" She points her finger at him. "I tried to date someone that I'm in love with because he's Muslim and from the Middle East. You dare to think that everyone like him is a terrorist and wants to kill all Americans because of the attacks in 2001. You make assumptions about an entire group based on a few people. You claim to be a Christian, but you don't show any love for others like Jesus said to do!"

"I'm sorry for all of that," Mr. Jensen sighs. "Your Uncle Mick talked to me, said a guy on his baseball team told him that there's nothing wrong with dating someone like Mohammed. You don't have to accept my apology right now, Ryan, but I am offering it to you."

"Fine, Dad," Ryan crosses her arms. "It will take a while for me to accept your apology, but I'm glad you even decided to say sorry."

Mr. Jensen nodded at me. "Mohammed, welcome to the family."

I smile at him, hoping as much as I can that he's being sincere. "Thank you, Mr. Jensen."

He extends his hand, and I hesitantly reach out my glove. We shake hands, and Ryan jumps on me in a hug as soon as we're done.

"We finally get to be together!" She squeals before jumping away and covering her nose. "After you take a shower, I mean."

"Sorry," I laugh. "Hockey makes me smell."

"She used to say the same of me every time I came home from baseball when she was a little girl," Mr. Jensen sighs.

I take my shower, and the encounter with Ryan's father is making me feel as good as I have since Ryan and I started dating in early January.

Two days pass by quickly, and soon, it's the last day of January. Our game against the Lower Division, which will earn one of the two teams playing a spot in the Competition Finals, is scheduled for one o'clock in the afternoon. One o'clock is quite early for a hockey game on a weekday, but it's for convenience. After all, the Boston Bruins themselves play the Philadelphia Flyers here at seven, and we wouldn't want to disrupt the NHL itself.

"You ready to kick some Lower Division ass, Mo?" North Tower Staten pats me on the back as I tape my stick with red, white, and blue tape in support of my team, the Albany Capitals.

"Of course," I stretch my legs out in front of me. "I have one shot at this championship all year, and I'm going to make it count."

"Damn right," South Tower Staten responds from her own stall as she straps her goalie pads to her legs.

Soon, it's time to skate out onto the ice at TD Garden. My heart speeds up when I see the fans in the tunnel, waiting to high-five and fist-bump us. I realize suddenly that this is the first actual game, not just a skills competition.

Before I start to panic, though, I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that being too nervous won't help anything. I need to go out there and play my best game. If we lose, it's not entirely my—

"At left wing, from the Albany Capitals, number 40...MOHAMMED AL-HASHIM!"

I am startled out of my trance by the sound of my name being called over the Garden's PA system. Immediately, I snap back into reality and exit the tunnel, my skate blades leaving marks on the fresh ice.

I join the rest of the starting lineup as they're doing laps around the ice. I am about to return to center ice for the playing of the national anthem when I hear a banging noise next to me.

When I look up, Ryan and her father are waving at me through the glass. Together, they're holding up a sign that says "Number 40, We Love You!"

Ryan giggles when she notices me smiling and blushing, and I gently bump the glass to show my appreciation. Ryan's dad laughs, and I hold my left hand out for a fist-bump. Mr. Jensen fist-bumps me in return through the glass, and I skate towards center ice, finally ready for the national anthem.

The motivation that my girlfriend and her father gave me before the game is contagious, and it quickly spreads to the rest of the Southern Division team. We defeat the Lower Division by an impressive score of 8-4, and the Jensens are on their feet cheering for every single one of our eight goals.

We've made it to the Finals.

Soon enough, it's Friday, and it's the day of the Finals. We're playing the Upper Division, who won their game against the Northern Division on Tuesday.

As we're stretching our muscles in preparation for the game, North Tower turns to me. "Do you think we're going to win tonight, 40?"

I grin. "Absolutely. I know we can do it. We're a team, and we're going to act like one."

"That's the spirit, Fartmuncher!" She punches me on the shoulder as her sister stands up.

"Alright, Southern Division!" The goalie announces. "We're about to go out onto the ice and play in the All-Star Finals. Of course, we aren't winning the Smithsonian Cup or anything like it, but we should still try our best. We've been chosen as the best of the best, and we're going to act like it, right?"

"Right!" The team choruses.

"Damn right," South Tower nods. "Let's go out there and show the Upper Division team and the city of Boston that we rule New York!"

The team cheers, and South Tower leads us out into the hallway. Soon, our captain brings us out onto the TD Garden ice, and the game begins.

We win, 11 goals to 3. With my natural hat trick and and extra goal, I win the MVP Award, which gifts me a new car. My team gets half a million dollars to split amongst ourselves.

I know exactly what to do with my share.

Ryan bounds up to me once I'm showered and out of the locker room. "Mohammed! I'm so proud of you, my MVP!"

"Thank you, babe," I wrap and arm around her. Mr. Jensen, her father, walks up to us and waves at me.

"Hey, Mohammed," he grins. "Congratulations on your big day."

"Thanks, sir," I respond. "Can I talk to you privately for a second?"

He gives me a weird look. "Sure."

Once we're away from Ryan, I ask him a question. "Mr. Jensen, what's Ryan's favorite place that she's ever been on vacation?"

"I'd have to say San Francisco," Mr. Jensen says after a while. "We went there when she was six, and she's always telling me how much fun she had in California."

"Well, then," I stand up straighter. "I'm going to take her to California, and give her the date of her life. Do you mind helping me with planning?"

Ryan's father smiles. "Of course. My daughter is lucky to have a man like you."

I smile back, warmth pooling in my chest.

Finally, things between Ryan and I are starting to work out.