Hockey Match Quotes

I want us to wake up together, to drink coffee from the same cup, to go to sleep at the same time. I want to go out with you, to show you off and around. I want us to eat dinner, then watch some hockey match together and then your melodramas. I promise I will keep your most favorite CD in my car, and we'll listen to it whenever you'll want, even when I know it will drive me insane. I want you to look at me when I am shaving in the mornings and I promise wherever we go I will always look only at you. I want to finally understand why you smell so fresh and flowery, I want to hold your hand, not under the table, but over it. I want us to cook together, to laugh together, to cry together, I want you for worse and for better. I want us to get married some day, have kids,a lot of them, then grow up and even die in one day. I want it all with you. And I get it that I haven't been around for 4 years, but if you still want me, if you still love me like you did all those years ago, I will make up for our lost time.

Yes. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes. I’ve only been asked that like three dozen times by hockey players, so don’t consider yourself original.

Ryker holds out a hand as I approach. “I’m Ryker.” I shake it, smiling. “Rylan.” He smiles back. “Cute. We kinda match.” Alice and Aidan. We’re adorable.

Going through old papers I came across the transcript of a university debate on Rublyov. God, what a level. Abysmal, pathetic. But there is one remarkable contribution by a maths professor called Manin, Lenin Prize winner, who can hardly be more than thirty. I share his views. Not that one should say that about oneself. But it's exactly what I felt when I was making Andrey. And I'm grateful to Manin for that. "Almost every speaker has asked why they have to be made to suffer all through the three hours of the film. I'll try to reply to that question. It is because the twentieth century has seen the rise of a kind of emotional inflation. When we read in a newspaper that two million people have been butchered in Indonesia, it makes as much impression on us as an account of our hockey team winning a match. The same degree of impression! We fail to notice the monstrous discrpancy between these two events. The channels of our perception have been smoothed out to the point where we are no longer aware. However, I don't want to preach about this. It may be that without it life would be impossible. Only the point is that there are some artists who do make us feel the true measure of things. It is a burden which they carry throughout their lives, and we must be thankful to them.

Fine,” he finally relents. “What’s your favorite color?” “Wow. Such a thought-provoking question.” I swear, this guy is reticent to share even a single significant detail about himself. Favorite color. Ha. Total cop-out right there. “Green,” I tell him. “What’s yours? Wait, let me guess—black to match that enchanting disposition?” “Gray.” “That’s pretty much the same thing. What shade? Light gray? Dark?” “A deep slate gray. Stormy, like your eyes.” My heart does a little somersault. He’s not trying to be romantic, but I liked that line. I liked it way too much, in fact. I’m starting to worry I might be in trouble.

The death notice was still hanging on the wall in the bar, between match jerseys and scarves from Holger’s beloved, hated, worthless, wonderful Beartown Hockey when the fire took the building. It almost took Ramona too, and sometimes she wishes it had. People can bury so many of their loved ones during a lifetime and still get up the morning after, but something inside gets a bit heavier each time. She’s had more than a few mornings when she’s woken up and wondered if she can be bothered to get up once more.

Giving up, I admire the rose gold chain in my hand, letting it slip through my fingers like running water. It’s not a necklace, but a lanyard for my school ID badge. The delicate chain breaks every few inches with small diamond-encrusted hoops, a matching rose gold whistle hanging off a clip. My thumb rubs methodically over the words etched into the circular pendant connecting the chain to the clip. Miss Parker it says on one side. Turning it over in my palm, I smile through my quickly blurring vision at the words on the back: World’s hottest teacher. But my favorite part? The tiny hockey skate charm that dangles next to the whistle

In this instance, she’d not heard him count. He’d not hit a wall, unless the brick-headed stubbornness of Dmitri’s face counted. Thwack! “Yay.” Yes, that was her cheering for her Pookie aloud. Since it seemed he hadn’t heard, she said it louder, yodeled it as a matter of fact. “You get him, Pookie. Show him who’s the biggest, baddest pussy around.” Leo turned his head at that, narrowing his blue gaze on her. Totally annoyed. Totally adrenalized. Totally hot. “Vex!” How sexy her nickname sounded when he growled it. She could tell he totally dug the encouragement. She waggled her fingers at him and meant to say, “You’re welcome,” but instead shouted, “Behind you!” During that moment of inattention— which really Leo should have known better than to indulge in— Dmitri threw a mighty hook. Had she mentioned just how sigh-worthy big her Pookie was? The perfectly aimed blow hit Leo in the jaw, and the force snapped his head to the side. But it certainly didn’t fell him. Not even close. On the contrary, the punch brought the predator in him alive. As he rotated his jaw, Leo’s gaze flicked her way, his eyes lit with a wildness, his lip quirked, almost in amusement, and then he acted. His fist retaliated then his elbow, snapping Dmitri in the nose. Any other man, even shifter, might have quickly succumbed, but the Russian Siberian tiger was more than a match for the hybrid lion/ tiger. Put them in a ring and they’d have brought in a fortune. They certainly put on a good show. Blood trailed from Dmitri’s lip from where Leo’s fist struck him. However, that didn’t stop the Russian from giving as good as he got. Size-wise, Leo held a slight edge, but what Dmitri lacked in girth, he made up for in skill. Even if Meena wasn’t interested in marrying him, it didn’t mean she couldn’t admire the grace of Dmitri’s movement and his uncanny intuition when it came to dodging blows. Leo wasn’t too shabby either. While he’d obviously not grown up on the mean streets of Russia, he knew how to throw a punch, wrestle a man, and look totally hot in defense of his woman. Sigh. A man coming to her rescue. Just like one of those romance novels Teena likes to read. Luna sidled up alongside her. “What did you do this time?” Why did everyone assume it was her fault? “I didn’t do anything.” Luna snorted. “Sure you didn’t. And it also wasn’t you who put Kool-Aid in Arik’s mom’s shampoo bottle and turned her hair pink at the family picnic a few years ago.” “I thought the short spikes she sported after she got it shaved looked awesome.” “Never said the outcome wasn’t worth it. Just like I’m totally intrigued about what’s happening here. That is Leo laying a smackdown on that Russian diplomat, right? Since I highly doubt they’re sparring over who makes the better vodka or who deserved the gold medal in hockey at the last winter Olympics, then that leaves only one other possibility.” Luna fixed her with a gaze. “This is your fault.” Meena’s shoulders hunched. “Okay, so maybe I’m a teensy tiny bit responsible. Like maybe I made sure my ex-fiancé and current fiancé got to meet.” “Duh. I already knew about that part. What I’m talking about is, how the hell did you get Leo to lose his shit? I mean when he gets his serious on, you couldn’t melt an ice cube in his mouth. Leo never loses control because to lose control is to lose one’s way, or some such bullshit. He’s always spouting these funny little sayings in the hopes of curbing our wild tendencies.” Pookie had the cutest personality. “What can I say?” Meena shrugged. “I guess he got jealous. Totally normal, given we’re soul mates.

A coach will set up the next three lines after the one that’s on the ice. But then, seeing what the other team puts out on the fly, he’ll tell players at the very last second that it’s their turn to hit the ice, even if they’re not the next line in the rotation. That’s because the opposing coach has done something—put out his top line, put out his bruising fourth line—to influence the line match. For some coaches, this is the perfect system through which to defeat an opponent. For most observers, it’s a handy way to unbalance your players’ ice time to their detriment.

Even if he only stands there looking pretty, they’ll be lining up ten deep. Your chocolate and a hunky hockey player—match made in heaven.

I don’t dare disturb him during a hockey bout. Or match. Or whatever it is the guys on screen are doing with sticks and ice and stuff.

Look at him. Using words against you. Maybe you’ve met your match.

A smile splitting her face, Natalie declared, "You stink!" Jaxon's wide grin matched that of his wife's. "Breathe it in, baby. That's the smell of a champion.

I thought my brother was crazy when he believed Natalie was his fate. He sat on the sidelines for years, waiting for her. Believing deep down they were meant to be together. Now that I’ve watched their relationship blossom, the love they share? He was right. They’re a perfect match. Without her, he would have never become the man he is by her side. And the same goes for Natalie. He brought her back to life when she was barely hanging on, trying to survive. So, how can I not believe you were thrown into my path that night for a reason? That you are the one person placed on this Earth I was meant to find?

Someone who will cuddle on my couch and watch a classic romcom with me. Someone who will challenge me. Someone who is respectful and courteous to others but also has no qualms about shouting at an official while pounding on the glass at a hockey game. We don’t have to be a perfect match, because when is that really the case? But I want our match to be close with a little bit of wiggle room for some give and take, because what’s love without a little bit of compromise, without being able to adapt to your partner and love what they love? It’s the people in our life who mold us, and I’m far from being molded completely.

Reiner expects us to get matching tattoos and wear bracelets, Taylor Swift style soon.

Think you can be quiet, love? These walls might not be thin, but they’re no match for the sound of your screams when you come.

Crystal and her friend had taken root behind Aidrian with Erin and Mandy behind Tristan. They looked like they were facing off in a hockey match. The only thing missing was the puck, hockey sticks, the ref, and all the other hockey gear. Never mind. My

I realize the rest of the team, including the other rookies, are all in matching team T-shirts. I'm the only one wearing an Owl River High School Girls' hockey hoodie complete with pink cursive lettering, which probably isn't winning me any points right now. In fact, a lot of the guys are also sporting stiff new ball caps with Owl River Hockey on the front. I'm kind of disappointed that I got left out of the new swag.

In terms of the way his teams play, he was the perfect match for me. He loves black-and-blue hockey. You never had to tell Randy to play the game tougher because that’s how his teams always played. He liked it as crude as I did. My three pillars were Randy’s three pillars. We were going to entertain you. We were going to gamble. We might give up more chances than other teams, but we’d be exciting. We could dazzle you with the puck and we could run you out of the building and onto the street. We were going to be tough as nails. We weren’t going to take any shit from anyone. And we were going to have great goaltending—and with Jiggy in net, we were already set there.

Mason used to be one of Jack’s best friends. He was a good center, but an even better winger. The boys started out in Mites together and had been on teams together ever since. Mason had Jack beat on speed, but he couldn’t match Jack’s stickhandling.

Nyla didn’t have ay idea what she was thinking. It was like her brain was split in two with one half shouting out crazy ideas and the other half standing back and calmly reminding her that she and her three friends were not exactly a match for the town’s star hockey team.

Staring at the woman I loved, I was mesmerized. It was as if God had handcrafted her to be my perfect match. I’d never believed in soulmates, but having Bristol blow into my life might be enough to convince me to change my stance.