Page 100 of Playmaker
McAvoy is still contracted to endorse Colson Tires, Western Canada Fuel, and BioSurge Energy Drinks. Representatives from these companies did not respond to requests for comment, though there are unsubstantiated reports that BioSurge is holding a previously unscheduled vote among shareholders. The reason for this vote is unclear, though an insider believes it is regarding the McAvoy endorsement.
McAvoy did not respond to requests for comment, and his social media has not been updated for over a week.
PITTSBURGH BEARCATS SIGN MERCY NELSON
Agree to Terms with McAvoy, Austin
PITTSBURGH – With summer trades and free agency in full swing, the Pittsburgh Bearcats front office has been busy.
Unrestricted free agent Mercy Nelson (D), one of the hottest assets on the market this off season, just signed a four-year deal with the Bearcats. The two-time Cup champion with Calgary says she is “excited to play for Pittsburgh” and looks forward to joining the team in next season’s campaign for a repeat victory.
Team captain Sabrina McAvoy (F) has agreed to terms for a five-year extension beginning next season at the end of her current two-year deal. She led the Eastern Conference in assists and points last season, and was second in the entire WHPL for power play goals.
Finally, Maryann Austin (G) has also agreed to terms and is expected to sign a five-year deal as well. This past season, she was narrowly eked out for the Hale MVP Goalie Trophy by Hartford’s Marta Lane. Austin ended the regular season with a 1.99 goals against average and 0.93 save percentage, close behind Lane’s 1.93 GAA and 0.922 SV%.
Bearcats General Manager Chloe Morin told reporters there are other trades and deals in the works which will be announced soon.
Lila
Eighteen months after winning the Cup.
When I’d worn a suit instead of my gear for last season’s home opener, I’d been miserable and restless. I’d hated being relegated to the bench for the introductions, then up to the owners’ box to watch the game.
I’d wanted toplayhockey, damn it.
Tonight, as the Pittsburgh Bearcats put on their gear for warmups at our third home opener, it was a little bittersweet. Yes, there would always be a part of me that wanted to play hockey. Always. It had been in my blood for as long as I could remember, and the ice would never stop calling to me. And I would play hockey for as long as my body would hold out—just not at this professional level. Not anymore.
Letting go had been heartbreaking, but once I’d made the decision, I’d quickly made peace with it. Taking that pressure off myself—both mental and physical—had been a bigger relief than I’d anticipated, and despite some second thoughts early on, I knew I’d made the right choice.
Things had worked out, too. I was happy with my new role with the Bearcats and with how my life had shaken out both professionally and personally. There would always be a part of me that missed the roar of the crowd and the push to win the Cup or the medal or whatever was at stake. I suspected most hockey players, even those long retired and into their twilight years, would always miss that.
But this? I could live with this.
The team started to head out for warmups. On her way to the tunnel, Sabrina paused. She smiled down at me—in her skates, she towered over me, especially since I could only wear flats—and she was sexy as hell.
“Ready for another season of chaos and pressure?” I asked with a grin.
“Absolutely.” She kissed me lightly, returned my grin, and then continued out with the rest of the team.
Once the players had made their way to the ice, I followed along with the rest of the coaching staff.
It was still a little weird, walking down this long, familiar hallway in shoes instead of skates, but I felt all right. Even standing behind the bench and watching my former teammates warm up, I wasn’t too bad, if a bit melancholy about the chapter of my life that had closed.
I’d tried. I really had. My knee had mostly recovered from that last injury and the subsequent surgery, but reality had started to make itself known when I’d returned to on-ice conditioning halfway through last season. It had been undeniable once I’d started practicing with the team.
My leg had been fine. Mostly pain-free. Mostly steady beneath me.
The problem was in my head.
I couldn’t help treating my knee like it was made of glass. I was afraid to check or be checked. Every time I raced for a puck, I held back out of fear of losing an edge or ramming into the boards. Even board battles made me nervous because all it would take was getting tangled up in someone’s stick or skates, and I could be back to square one. Every twinge sent panic through me. Every morning I woke up with an ache or some stiffness in that joint, I went through that cascade ofoh God what if I can’t get past it this time?
It was more mental than physical, and the therapist I’d started seeing had said it was something I could work through. A lot of people—athletes and otherwise—struggled to get past the fear of reinjury long after the injury itself had healed. That fear was no more insurmountable than the torn MCL had been.
Over time, I’d realized I didn’t want to keep fighting against myself like that. I loved hockey, and I missed hockey, but there was no going back fully to the fearless, physical player I’d been before. More than I wanted to return to the ice, I wanted to let go of the stress and pressure.
So, about two weeks before I’d been expected to come off LTIR and be reactivated, I’d instead announced my retirement from professional hockey.
In the weeks between my decision and my announcement, I’d lost plenty of sleep, worrying I was about to make a huge mistake. The moment I’d made my retirement public, though, I’d been hit with more relief than I’d felt in a long, long time. As hard as it was to let hockey go, it was the right decision at the right time.