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It all started during his first international game while Ilya’s was playing in Juniors. It was not surprising that his family wasn’t in the stands rooting for him; he would be shocked if some day one of them actually showed up. The only one that has always supported him has been his mother and that he lost that at 12 when she died.
Ilya had kept her cross, though. It was his way to feel connected to her, close and like she was always watching over him.
But today, he felt that wasn’t enough. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was too far away from home or feeling lonelier than usual, but he wanted to do something to remind him that no matter if there was no one in the stands, he was not alone.
So, after carefully taping his stick just the way he liked it, he reached out to one of the assistant coaches asking for a marker.
When he felt happy with the results. He bit back a smile and returned the marker.
There, at the top of his stick, the initial of his mom’s name rested: И
I miss you, mom. I’ll win for you.
He scored twice and got an assist in that game; there was no doubt a new ritual has started.
And if every time he looked at his stick, a warm feeling settled on his chest, that was only for him to know.
.-.-.-.
Around the beginning of 2017’s Playoffs
Game days, for a lot of hockey players, meant very strict routines and rituals; superstitious or not, it was difficult to shake that part of the sport culture. There were the typical ones: tying skates a certain way, taping sticks in a specific pattern, wearing lucky clothing or accessories, warm up drills… stuff like that. There were also weirder ones: talking to equipment, the same breakfast or snack, there was a guy that poured water over his head exactly 6 and a half minutes before the game and he always used the same type of water bottle too.
Ilya wasn’t like that; he was confident of his abilities. He obviously had some kind of routine, he was still a hockey player, but it wasn’t anything set in stone or that would mess up with his game if he couldn’t do it.
He had a gameday playlist, he usually ate a tuna melt sandwich and he wrote his mom’s name initial in his stick before every game. You see? Very simple.
It was common for the media and fans to ask about player’s rituals; there were videos and articles about it. He knew because he has been asked multiple times. Everyone wanted to know what the letter referred to. He knew there were theories of all kinds, but his mom was not something he was prepared to share with the world yet, so he usually derailed the conversation with jokes or faking that he didn’t understand. It has worked out for him so far.
Lately, ever since he has seen Shane’s body sprawled out in the ice, he’s been… considering doing an extra bit.
He has been so scared, absurdly scared; he has been low-key freaking out about how scared he had felt in that moment, he felt so emotionally raw. Ilya couldn’t even fathom to lose Hollander. He knew Shane was okay, just a concussion and some broken bones, nothing severe or life-threatening, but he couldn’t erase the memory, it kept coming back again and again. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, his nightmares were mixing up what happened to Hollander with what happened to his mom.
He wanted something to remind himself that Shane was okay while he was in the ice, to regain focus and control of his thoughts. He couldn’t afford getting distracted now.
But everything he came up with was too exposing.
It wasn’t until the first playoff game, when he was doing his routine when it occurred to him: he could add Shane’s initial along with his mom’s. It was risky, he knew. But he doubted someone would guess what it meant and if they did, that everyone else would take it seriously.
So, he did.
Minutes before getting on the ice, with his mom’s initial looking back at him, he added Shane’s initial in Cyrillic: Ш.
One on top of the other, the most important people in his life by his side.
И
Ш
If anyone noticed, teammates or not, no one said a thing. And he was grateful for that.