TYLER
"Good to see some light in your eyes, Locksey," Evan says, slapping me on the back as we head out to the tunnel. "Let's go win another fuckin' Cup for Vegas, yeah?"
"Chief." I tip my head at him. "Yeah, we got this." Slipping my mouth guard in, I pull my helmet down, and tighten the strap. As per usual, there are good-luck messages playing on the screens along the tunnel, well-wishes from our loved ones as we head into the final.
I wait in line, knowing it'll be yet another year where I walk right by those screens. I've never had a single message from anyone - pathetic, right? Still, it's kind of fun to see a bunch of big-ass pro players get weepy when they see their moms or their girlfriends or wives on screen on the biggest night of their careers.