Drake comes up to me after the game, mindful that Ford is ahead of us because he speaks in a low voice. I know where his loyalty lies, but I’ve given the guy more assists than Ford in the last few games, plus, we seem to be able to always know where the other one is on the ice.
“I’ve never played with someone who can backhand with the control you have,” he says while we walk down the hallway toward the locker room.
“I’ve never played with someone who has your stamina.”
Drake laughs. “Conditioning. I’ve been doing a helluva lot more of it since they signed Jet. Gotta keep my starting line position.”
I understand what he’s saying. I sense Drake and I are the same type of person. We don’t do second place, but both of our times to hang up the skates will come. It’s inevitable.
“Listen.” H
