TV - Mighty Ducks x GN Reader
“Don’t know where you are right now…did you see me on TV?”
“Maybe I, maybe I, maybe I’m the problem…”
-TV, Billie Eillish 2022
Mighty Ducks 3/Adam Banks x GN Reader
Fem or Male, I imagined it as Male but it works either way. Y/n’s sport is not specified either.
Warnings: Angst, jealousy/comparing yourself, implications of depression, might sound a bit dramatic and kinda me projecting just a wee bit , and no real implications of romance.
3-8
The other team was up by 5 points, and the score board only 3 minutes to sounding. I could see people rushing around me, eyes trained on the ball. But I was just too tired to move my legs.
My mind was swimming, the people sat on the bleachers were screaming into my ear like fuzzy, TV static. But my brain dampened the noise, putting a soggy blanket over my ears. My eyelids were heavy, and the rim of my eyes were feeling warm and heavy like I was gonna cry; but I wasn’t crying.
People whiz past me again, and I turn and try pushing myself to follow them. They were getting too close to the goal; I saw them rushing towards it. But for some reason my dampened ears and brain weren’t letting me comprehend what was truly happening, only faintly reminding me that some of the staticky-screams were from my teammates yelling at me.
The buzzer blares, overlapping with the ‘end of game’ alarm that sounds right after it and I feel my shoulders slump.
3-9.
Next to me there’s grumbling, a few mutters to “go after it next time” as my teammates go past me. To think I’m the captain, absolute shit.
Their condescending tones and energy are enough to shove me away, stumbling over my feet as I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe I was crying, maybe that’s why the ground below me felt so unstable and blurry.
I walk over the the sidelines with my head hanging low and fists clenched as one thought echoes through me;
I want to go home.
The air in the locker room was suffocating, coach’s after-game talk doing nothing more than stirring the annoyance everyone felt. His words felt like lukewarm water against my fizzling ears, skin melting away like foam. It felt as if every look, word, glance was pointed towards me, and the ‘C’ on my jacket burning until I felt I needed to cover it; hide it away from them all in shame.
No one spoke to me when we all poured out into the afternoon’s air, the near-empty parking lot giving plenty of space for me to duck into my car without speaking a word.
****
“The Eden Hall Warriors, though nicknamed the “Mighty Ducks” are on the ice again as they face their neighboring school, the Brookefield Bears…”
The TV echoes through the living room, only a portion of the screen visible to my eye as i sink further and further into the cushions of the couch.
Scraps of food, left on my plate that now sits on the coffee table accompanied by a singular soda can. I wasn’t hungry enough to finish it.
“Player Adam Banks goes for the puck, with years of experience under his belt! Oh and boy is it showing tonight, with a slick pass to Conway…”
The familiar name makes me narrow my eyes at the tv screen, thinking back to that name.
Adam Banks.
I knew him, once. Back in elementary school we’d all gather together on the playground to play whatever game was most “popular” at the time.
It’s a weird feeling, seeing this random boy from years ago suddenly on television.
He was always talented, passionate. Sometimes I wonder if he’d recognize me, on the slight chance we’d ever see each other again. I mean, it’s not like we were best friends or anything, but when he seems to be on television as often as he is it’s hard not to think back on him.
My head was still cloudy, from todays events. Seeing the Ducks, how they so easily glide across the ice in such a synchronized manner it really makes me wonder - what the hell have I been doing?
Todays game was not unique, the flaws to our skills showing with ease.
What was he doing right, that I wasn’t?
I sit up, shakily moving my head away from the scratchy pillows as I analyze the game through the TV.
It’s always easy to compare yourself to someone. Just a quick thought, able to bring all sorts of insecurities that you hadn’t thought of before.
I never thought I’d be sitting here, in this dark, depressing living room comparing my skills to Adam Banks of all people.
Though maybe it wasn’t all about skills.
Maybe it was the fact that someone my age, from my town, could’ve evolved into this successful athlete in just a few years while I had no choice but to watch.
Maybe I should be happy for him- he was always nice to me, after all. But then again comparisons are just so much easier for the envious, greedy bystanders like me.
How does high school hockey even end up on the television? What channel am I on again?
‘-it goes in! Another point for the Ducks-‘
I groan, letting my head fall back and rest on the couch’s back. I crane my neck to look at the ceiling, unmoving fan casting a shadow on the plain white area. The announcer’s voice pricks my ears, as I try blocking him out to think.
But as hard as I tried, the thoughts had more static to them than the TV itself. And so I tried to stop, but it didn’t go away.
A mix of comparisons, jealousy, images from sports fails bounce around in my head until they overlapped in the most obnoxious way possible.
That damn announcer’s voice screamed, echoing in the back of my head like a bad song being repeated over and over.
“Oh, shut up…” I groan, hitting my hand against the pillow as a wave of exhaustion washes over me.
The thoughts fade in and out, volume turning up and down, up and down, like an echo.
“Banks steals the puck, bringing it back up towards Brookefield’s goal-!”
God, could this guys voice be any higher in pitch…
“Mendoza follows up, he’s got the puck now!”
“He’s going for it!”
I flinch as the buzzer goes off, echoing through the speakers and wafting through the living room.
“And there it is, folks! Yet anoth….
I roll over onto my side, loosely hugging myself as my fists unclench and my eyes squeeze shut once more.
I could hear the announcer rambling off into the microphone, people on the bleachers going wild in the background.
It was so loud.
“Maybe I’m the problem…”
.
I let the remark hang in the room for another moment, all my thoughts suddenly going quiet. It felt like a sort of confirmation, in a way. Something agreeing with me- yes, you are, the problem.
I slowly open my eyes, letting them wander towards the screen. Hockey players in red jersey’s celebrating, skating laps around the rink. Of course.
I move my gaze back to the scratchy pillows and couch cushions.
Maybe I was just being dramatic. After all, that is what it felt like. Such a small comparison to make, though it felt like hundreds of signs, just pointing at me.
One final, sour laugh escapes my throat, before disappearing. “‘M definitely the problem…”
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I think what irks me the most about D4 is what it already implies.
Starting with the royal baby thing, I am trusting and hoping they will make a time jump of at least a few years, because if not these inmature as hell teenagers married and had a kid before twenty wich yikes
But then, what does this time jump implies? I'm not gonna lie, is kinda scary to think about how they will handle it. They have to mention the original characters and where they are now, wich worries me.
For one, what excuse will they trow about Uma being there but not Harry, who even the people who doesn't ship them will admit, follows her everywhere.
I just hope they don't say is because they had a fight or something like that. Thinking more into it, is possible they have him be with Audrey, because is something they stablished in D3, and I'm not exactly agains it but it would be... odd to say the least.
I'm praying for it to be a simple lame excuse like "he is visiting his dad" or whatever, because I just know it could be worst.
On the other hand, Gil I guess could still be traveling with Jay (?
Also what happened to the crew
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