“As I’ll ever be,” Shane replied, fidgeting with his tie nervously. Ilya threaded their fingers together. They waited inside the tunnel for their names to be announced. It was weird being here in a suit and not in full hockey gear but it was time for this next step. Shane and Ilya both agreed. It took a while to mentally get there, but they’d arrived, content with the decision.
“Now presenting number 24, Shane Hollander and number 81, Ilya Rozanov!” The Ottawa crowd lost its mind; everyone in the arena was on their feet cheering. Shane choked up as they walked out together, for the last time.
For a minute, they looked around, soaking in the adoration of the crowd. The team was lined up, tapping their sticks as Shane and Ilya made their way to the podium. Luca had taken over as Captain, which was as it should be, in Ilya’s opinion. Troy now wore the A since Bood retired. Their team was in good hands.
They shook hands with Coach Wiebe and with the GM of the Centaurs. Then they looked at each other and grinned, raising their joined hands. Shane felt tears on his cheeks but he hadn’t been aware he was crying. He glanced at Ilya, who seemed similarly emotional but when their eyes met, he winked.
The GM was speaking now about their individual and team accomplishments. Shane tried to listen, he really did. But he tuned out. Then the GM was beckoning him forward and Shane was alone at the podium. He had a printed copy of the speech in his jacket pocket but he’d memorized it so he didn’t take it out.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice a little thick. “When I started my career, I thought my number would hang from a different set of rafters one day.” The crowd booed and Shane chuckled, waiting for them to quiet. “But it has been an absolute privilege to play in my hometown and to have my jersey hanging here, where I attended my first hockey game when I was four years old. I couldn’t have done this without my parents, Yuna and David, Coach Wiebe and the entire Centaurs coaching staff, my amazing teammates…and of course, my wonderful husband, Ilya Rozanov.” The crowd cheered again and Ilya came forward, joining Shane at the podium. “We have been through a lot. But it’s always been together. And I look forward to starting our new chapter together.”
Ilya kissed his cheek and Shane stepped back. “Oh my God Hollander, you are so boring,” he drawled, getting a laugh from the crowd. “But seriously…I moved to a new country when I was 19 years old. It was lonely, learning new customs, a new language, a new city. I had two constants in my life then. Hockey. And Shane.” He looked over at Shane, giving him a small smile. “At first it was because the media decided we hated each other. And yes, we played into that…narrative. As we got to know each other though, I realized I didn’t hate him. I respected him. He made me better. He pushed me in a way no one else did. Still does, as a matter of fact,” he said, winking at the crowd. “All of my career achievements …you know what they are, I don’t have to list them…would be meaningless without him. So yes, to everyone who has supported me throughout my career: coaches, team, Yuna and David..but especially Shane.” He stopped speaking and Shane stepped forward again, wrapping him in a tight hug.
There were a few more speeches but neither Shane nor Ilya was really listening, waiting as they were for that moment which was rapidly approaching. When the GM finally announced it was time to raise their numbers to the rafters, the arena sounded as though they were playing Game 7 of the Finals. Shane gripped Ilya’s hand as their banners soared toward the ceiling, both overcome with emotion.
Their numbers would hang their forever, part of Centaurs and hockey history. Together.