GioSivo

Lorenzo sat in the crowded arena, the bright lights making the room feel both enormous and suffocating at the same time. He adjusted the collar of his suit, trying to sit still as name after name was called. The anticipation had turned his legs into coiled springs, he couldn't keep them still. His nerves were a mix of excitement and dread. And then... "With the 13th pick in the VHL Entry Draft, London United selects... Lorenzo Mancini." For a moment he was still as a statue. The butterflies in his stomach finally gave way as he processed it. London. London United. The dream was real now. This was it, he was in the VHL, just like his father before him. The cameras turned toward him, and he stood up, straightening his jacket as he made his way down to the stage. He shook hands with Baby Bob, smiled for the photos, and pulled on the London jersey for the first time. Something felt... off. He'd always imagined himself in Chicago. Even in New York. His father's career had been defined by those two cities. New York, where he was drafted and where he eventually captained. Where the whole "Godfather" crap started... and in Chicago where that stilled followed his father... and now himself like a shadow. Two markets where the Mancini name, reputation and story had been built. But Lorenzo? He was going to London. He wasn't disappointed, he was ecstatic even, but it just wasn't what he expected after all this time, he guessed. He stepped off the stage. Maybe this was the best way to escape the comparisons, carve his own path. His father never played in Europe outside the late VHLE, so... it was new territory. No New York spotlight or Chicago expectations. He'd have space to prove that he wasn't just Francesco Mancini's son, he was Lorenzo. Of course, none of that quite mattered yet. He wasn't going to play in London for a few seasons anyhow. The VHLM dispersal draft was still coming up, and that meant he had no idea where he'd actually be playing next season. The VHLM was unpredictable for young players like him. The minor leagues shuffled rookies around like pieces on a chessboard. He could realistically end up anywhere. Maybe he'd be back in Vegas, defending the Founders Cup. Maybe Saskatoon. Or Halifax even. That'd be funny, beat them in the finals this year and play for them the next. But still, the uncertainty gnawed at him a bit. What if he landed somewhere that didn't fit his playstyle? What if he struggled? ...What if people thought he was only there because of his name? No. No no. You just won the Founders Cup. He exhaled sharply. You're here because YOU earned it. He'd prove that to himself, no matter where in the VHLM he ended up. He looked down at the London jersey. A new chapter was beginning. The draft was done... now it was time to get back to work. 502 WORDS

bro has an inhuman ability to create nothing but masterpieces

1:01... 1:00... 0:59.. Puck flew down the ice. A desperate stretch pass to get any offense going. It went untouched, bouncing harmlessly past the goal line. Icing. The whistle blew, but Lorenzo hardly heard it over the roaring in his ears. One minute left. He bent over the bench, gripping his stick harder than he ever had before. His every breath was shallow, every beat of his heart pounding harder and harder, as if it were trying to burst out of his chest. 3 - 1 Las Vegas, 0:59... Focus. Focus dammit. Don't look at the clock. Just keep going. Don’t think about the time. Don’t think about what this means. Just finish the job. He looked up at the faceoff dot. Jagger Bomb Jr. lined up against Ty Duke. Just kill some clock. Tie him up. Jagger Bomb Jr. tried to, but Duke won it clean. Halifax controlled it and quickly broke out. Lorenzo shifted on the bench, knee bouncing. He could barely sit still. They’d talked all season about composure. “Stay calm in big moments,” coach always said. But how the hell was he supposed to stay calm here? He never got this far. The thought slipped into his mind as he tracked the puck. His father never won it. Not here. Not anywhere. He could still hear his dad’s voice from years ago, back in Chicago, when he was just a kid dreaming about a moment like this. "You don’t chase championships, Lorenzo. You chase the game. You play the right way, and maybe... maybe, you get your shot." He still remembered looking in his eyes as he said that. That slight look of pain. His father had given everything, clawed his way through every level of hockey, and still, the big silver trophies had always slipped through his fingers. He knew his father was watching. Somewhere in the crowd. Lorenzo clenched his jaw. It wasn’t fair. His father had never said it out loud, but Lorenzo knew, knew how much it burned, how much it stung to come so close and never get the moment. His father never talked about those lost finals, those bitter playoff endings. Maybe because it still hurt. Maybe because he never wanted Lorenzo to feel that same pain. Lorenzo exhaled sharply. Then don’t. Win this. He hopped over the boards an onto the ice. He'd finish it. 0:21... 0:20... 0:19... The shot came fast. Lorenzo barely tracked it, just saw a blur off Belle’s stick and held his breath. Wide. The puck ricocheted off the boards behind the net, Lorenzo's hands tight on his stick, covering his position. One more clear. One more save. One more shift. It gets up to the point, Bolivar lets it rip. Lorenzo watched as the puck flashed toward the net... stopped. No rebound. Lorenzo exhaled, but only for a second. Faceoff in their zone. 0:16... Bolivar against Ross. The puck dropped, sticks clashed, and then... BAM. Albin Aldgard flattened Bolivar on the ice, the crowd erupting in approval, their final celebration just beginning. The puck squirted free. Lorenzo didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, stick down, battling against a Halifax winger who was desperate to keep it in. His skates scraped against the ice, body leaning in as he chipped at the puck. Someone else shoved from behind, a blur of red and white, but Lorenzo gritted his teeth and dug in... but it wouldn't get out. Halifax keeps it in. He retreats back to his defensive position. Pass over to Raoul Cyr. He looks for a pass and hedumps it low to Inker Belle. Belle shoots it up to Bolivar. Defense tightens up, Bolivar can't get anything to the middle or across. Bolivar tries to send it back up... intercepted and cleared by Kazuma Satou! 0:05.. Time didn't matter, it was over. The crowd began their countdown. Lorenzo barely had time to react before the bench exploded. Players leaped over the boards, sticks thrown, gloves soaring through the air. Someone grabbed him.. maybe Danny Ross, maybe Jagger Bomb... but it didn’t matter. They did it. He let himself breathe, finally, completely, as he threw his arms around his teammates. For all Francesco Mancini had accomplished, for all the years he had fought through the leagues, he had never lifted a championship trophy. Not here. Not in the VHL. But Lorenzo had. He wiped his face, though he wasn’t sure if it was sweat or something else. He looked up at the stands, scanning the crowd. He knew is father was there somewhere. Every moment of his short career led to this. Every moment flashed before his eyes. Every moment Lorenzo had spent proving to himself and to the world... that he was his own man. And now? Now he had something his father never did. Now he was a champion. And for the first time all night, he let himself smile. ~816 Words

1. Hard to say, since I just got here! The only move I saw was myself signing into the VHLM. 2. For me, points in general. I like knowing that I'm actively contributing on the scoresheet. 3. That Simon isn't actually a real person. Like cmon, of course he's real. A computer could never make up the stuff that happens in the VHL. 4. I'm rooting for the meteor strike. 5. History. It was one of the only class where I didn't actively keep an eye on the clock. 6. BBQ. Sure its basic, but that's the person I am really.

Keep yourself together. Breathe. Breathe. It's just a practice. All that it is. You've given everything to be here. Everyday out at that rink in Chicago. You know what you're doing. Do I? Yes. You do. You know you do. They know you do. An incoherent static of words filled his head. Confidence, doubt, adrenaline. He hadn't even made it to the arena yet. This is your time. They signed you because of you. Not because of your damn. name. He gritted his teeth. The thought had struck him harder than he would've liked to admit. He knew 'Mancini' carried some weight. His fathers. Sure, it had opened doors for him. Some good, and others that... he didn't think he wanted to walk through. Francesco was humble to a fault at times, he never really talked about it... But everyone knew that his shadow stretched pretty long. No. They signed me for me. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. His knuckles slowly turned white. He knew his father was proud of him. He maybe quiet and reserved about it, but Lorenzo knew he was. He remembered playing his last peewee game in Chicago, when his father was still in the VHL. His face was never readable, but he knew behind his father's eyes was nothing but pride. But it still stuck with him. Even when the media pushed the comparisons, even when whispers of nepotism followed him into locker rooms, Lorenzo knew his father believed in him. His grip loosened, his anger subsiding. ..Okay, let's j- His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. His friend Vincent from back in Chicago. He answered. "What's up Vinny?" "Yo Renzo! My man! How's the big leagues treatin' ya? They giving you a hard time yet?" "Haven't even made it to the rink pal. 'Sides, just my first practice." "I hear ya. But hey, its like the first day of school huh? But I know you got it in the bag man." "Thanks, appre-" "I mean, Mancini blood, right? You don’t even gotta try. They’ll respect you just for walking in there." Lorenzo tensed up. "I'm here because I worked my f*ckin' ass off to be here. Let’s get that straight." His voice tightened. "I get it, I get it... But c'mon, let’s be real, you think the connections your family has don’t play a part?" Vinny's voice takes on a knowing edge. "Vinny, don't start with th-" "I’m just sayin’... your dad? He’s been around for a while, right? People know him. I’m not saying he’s pullin’ strings, but you don’t think they’ve taken notice of that, huh?" "Just what the f*ck are you implying Vinny?" "I’m just sayin’, bro, when you got that kind of history, people notice. Maybe not now, but eventually, you know? Look, I’m not saying your dad’s still... involved, but I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers, right?" "Don't you dare bring my father into this. H-He's... he's not like that." His voice wavered with some uncertainty. His tone quickly changes. "And don't you ever f*ckin' make a suggestion like that again." His voice cracks with frustration, his heart pounding. He’s had enough of these kinds of insinuations. "Whoa, hey, calm down. I’m not trying to upset you, just talkin’ real. It’s just that, you know, with everything he’s done in the past... the people he knows... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to keep that in mind. Could open some doors for you, might make things a little easier." "Vinny." "Yeah?" "F*ck off." He ended the call. ...So much for cooling off. 594 Words

Player Information Username: GioSivo Player Name: Lorenzo Mancini Recruited From: Returning Age: 21 Position: LW Height: 73 in. Weight: 184 lbs. Birthplace: Italy Player Page @VHLM GM

lets not talk about playoff success

2. Not so call out but more with good luck, Jasper David, I've basically been his teammate my entire career. So, a little strange to not be now. 4. Depends who wins, Dallas otter or Robinson, Edmonton, McDavid, Florida, Bobrobsky or Tkatchuk, or New York, Shesterkin. 5. If not playing video games, I'm playing hockey. 6. New York. For obvious reasons. 7. Utah Swarm I think is the best choice. I mean imagine the Delta Center being nicknamed "The Hive", with the fans "joining the swarm." Really works well to me. 8. Imagine Dragons, I will die on their hill

1. I'm glad to be here, really excited about the season. About time Chicago got their own godfather, I think. 2. Hard to say exactly, but I got a good feeling about a top three finish in the conference. 3. New York. I'd be lying if I said I was expecting a trade, they've made some pretty decent moves too. 5. Going on a cruise to Europe, stopping in Norway, Sweden, Germany, Netherlands, Belgium, France, and the UK for about 2.5 weeks. 7. Auntie Anne's or Wetzels Pretzels. I will always get them if I get the chance. Nothing better in my opinion. 8. If they win game six, I'm convinced they will. They've outplayed the Rags in every game, Igor has stolen three, but I don't think he's gonna be able to steal the series.