“Come on, boys,” he joked. “I’m forty-one. You had to see this coming.” There was silence, and then someone—Prentice, it sounded like—said, “You’re only forty-one?” Everyone laughed, and that opened the floodgates. “I thought you were at least sixty.” “Goalies didn’t even wear masks when you were a rookie.” “My grandpa grew up watching you.” Eric shook his head. “Fuck all of you. I can’t wait to never see you again.”
