Author's Note:
Hi, everyone! Nick and I are so excited to have been selected to write this entry on behalf of Crocs for the Crocs Writing Contest!

The clothing, shoes, and accessories we wear can be a vital part of how we all choose to express ourselves daily! And as a couple of trans male queers, Nick and I have both had a very interesting relationship with fashion and brands throughout our lives. So, we can't express enough how meaningful we feel it is to see companies, like Crocs, championing values of inclusion, and uplifting individuality and diversity.

Nick and I hope you'll help show your support for Crocs and their mission, by joining in on the fun too! Nick and I can't wait to read your entries for the #WattCrocs writing contest! ~ Alix (HicksScribbles)

The adrenaline a hockey player feels before they take the ice is unlike any other.

It starts out small when you enter the locker room; discarding your street clothes for a crisp clean uniform that links the team all together.

You aren't just a bunch of high schoolers anymore. You're a tribe. A war party. A band of gods leaving the locker room, with one common goal in mind.

And by the time you reach the bleachers, it's howling through your veins, a combination of excitement and anticipation, mixing with the roar of the crowd, the glare of the lights, and the smell of ice.

In that familiar moment, when the puck drops...

Anything is possible...even magic.

~

"Hey, Faris!"

They were on the brief intermission following the first period. Brian was as easy as ever to spot among his teammates in the crowded locker room. He had a mop of wild red hair that looked like he'd just stepped out of a wind tunnel, when he'd actually just taken off his helmet, and was easily a foot taller than some of the other guys. Big enough to be on a university team, to be honest.

"Huh?" Faris hummed from where he'd plopped himself down on one of the benches. Where the heck was his water bottle...?

"Dude, you did bring them, right?" Brian asked after wading through the sea of pads and jerseys, reaching him right as their coach entered the locker room. "The Pair, I mean. You brought em'?"

"Of course I did," Faris hissed back at his best friend as Coach began his rant. "I showed them to Hector, remember?"

But doubt was already creeping into his stomach. They were a third into their second match of the series and already had two injuries and were three points down against a notoriously good, and rough, team. They'd managed to win their first game against them, and if they didn't win this one, they'd be forced into a third match against the Tigers. If that happened, and they lost, they could possibly lose their position going into the finals.

Faris waited with his nerves buzzing for Coach to finish his spiel and leave the locker room so that he could check his bag.

The moment he was able to tear into it, he did, and to his horror, made the gut-wrenching discovery that both he and Brian now feared...The Pair was missing.

The first hockey game Faris had ever seen was from a spot on the couch next to his grandpa, rooting for the Colorado Avalanche. But Gramp's "lucky hockey jersey" was an old tie-dye band shirt that nowhere near matched the team's burgundy and blue color scheme.

So...why that shirt?

"Nothin' in the world can make folks believe in magic like sports can."

And in the ten years since then, Faris had come to recognize just how right granddad was.

Everything from pre-game rituals, to lucky numbers, particular outfits, special handshakes–you name it, and it was out there. All for the sake of garnering some form of cosmic favor for your team.

For Faris, it was his Crocs.

That's right. As silly and random as it sounded, it was his classic-style, rubber ducky yellow Crocs.

He'd gotten them just after his first year on the varsity ice hockey team. He'd needed something easy but comfortable to wear before and after games. Crocs came highly recommended by his teammates, and several of them already owned pairs, so Faris had no way of foreseeing his own becoming legendary.

It was actually Brian who'd first pointed it out.

As long as Faris had his Crocs with him, even if they only sat in his bag the whole time and he didn't get to slip them on, they never lost a series. As soon as they were left at home, however, it was a complete crap shoot.

The rumor started circulating, and before long, other teammates had nicknamed them "The Pair" in reverence. They even started donating "offerings" to The Pair in the form of Jibbitz to "increase their power!"

It was wildly hilarious, and completely ridiculous, but they really worked!

Some of the guys would even ask where The Pair was before they loaded onto their bus for away games.

But Faris's favorite thing about them was the donated Jibbitz.

Of course, there were a handful of the expected; player numbers, hockey sticks crossed with a puck, a helmet. An avocado from Brian. (It was an inside joke.) But there was also a #ShineAsOne Jibbitz from one of their defenders, in honor of his sister, a Special Olympian. And a homemade breast cancer awareness ribbon from Carter's grandma, who was going on three years cancer free, and who arguably rooted the loudest for them when she was able to attend games. One that said, "PROUD!" in rainbow colors from Dylan, their star forward, who was an out trans male, and one that was just a rainbow from their first-string goalie, Zach. Faris didn't know where Zach considered himself within the LGBTQ+ community, but he was happy to add it all the same.

But the point was, his Crocs were more than just lucky. They'd become a collage of things that represented and meant something to his team. They were just as important as his skates, or his stick.

"We gotta find them," Faris said, feeling the color drain from his own face.

"We don't have time!" Brian said, motioning towards the rest of the team as they began to file out of the locker room. "We have to get back out there."

Brian was right.

"Okay, okay. Let's just chill," Faris said. "This is fine. We just gotta get through the second period, and as soon as we clear the ice for last intermission, we search for them."

Brian didn't exactly look confident or convinced, but he nodded. "Okay..."

~

By the time the glowing digits on the wall signaled that they were moments away from the end of the second period, they were down by five points. Twenty minutes had gone by in a blur of clacking sticks, deafening horn sounds, bursts of music, and disappointing slap shots.

Between their shifts on the ice, Brian and Faris had spread the grim news about The Pair being missing, and now they weren't the only ones eager to begin the search.

Their team captain had even explained the situation to Coach, who very reluctantly allowed the team their hunt, but it was no good. They checked every bag they'd brought with them, every locker in the loaned locker room. Trash cans, laundry hampers, hallways. One of their healthy scratches even ran outside through the snow in his nice dress shoes to check their bus. Nothing.

If the second period had seemed like it flew, the intermission was over in a blink. Faris and Brian watched as the team, with slumped shoulders, regrouped to go back out to the rink.

"We tried, at least..." Brian said. "Maybe they'll turn up."

Unfortunately, Faris really doubted it.

He let out a long sigh as he picked up his helmet and began the trudge down the hallway towards the rink. The Pair were gone... And, sure, there were lots of classic-style Crocs out there. But they weren't his lucky Crocs... they weren't the team's lucky Crocs...

"Hey! Wait up!!"

Neither of them recognized the voice behind them, but as soon as they turned around, Brian gripped the front of Faris's jersey.

There they were!!!

Cradled in the hands of a scratch from the Tigers team, were a perfectly unharmed, rubber ducky yellow, Jibbitz covered, pair of Crocs!

"OH MY GOD!" Faris blurted, closing the distance between them as quickly as a person could run on carpet while wearing skates.

No way! There was no way!

"These what you guys been looking for?" the scratch asked, handing them over.

"Yes!" Faris exclaimed. "Wait-"

"You took them?!" Brian finished for Faris, his clenched fist causing the scratch to raise his hands slightly in surrender.

"No! Well-yeah. Kinda."

Faris's brows pinched together. "You kinda stole them?"

"No. Garrett—uh, number twenty three, on our team-"

"That big defender?"

The scratch nodded. "Yep! That's the one. He-"

"Guys!" Coach shouted from the end of the hall, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, and causing all three of them to about jump out of their skin.. "Let's go!"

"Right," Brian said. "Talk and walk."

The scratch nodded, following just behind them. "Well, number twenty three went to the locker room y'all are using, looking for his phone, and saw the Crocs sitting out."

"And stole them?" Brian snipped.

"No, he meant to bring them right back. It's just, he saw those charm things on them. And wanted to show our team captain," the scratch explained, peeling off to the right, as Brian and Faris joined their team on the other side of the tough, plexiglass wall surrounding their bench. "He figured if a team as good as yours could be so, like inclusive, or accepting of differences, or whatever—" the scratch practically yelled so that they could still hear him. "Then so could ours!"

Faris beamed, his chest swelling with pride, as his face flushed red from the compliment.

The scratch gave them a wave, and was turning to head back over to his side of the rink, when Brian pounded twice on the glass.

"Hey! Thanks, man!"

The scratch smiled and nodded. They couldn't quite hear him now that music was blaring overhead and the crowd of family, friends, and community members were hooping and hollering again, but Faris definitely read, "Good luck!" from his lips.

With The Pair safely sitting on the ledge of the boards next to Coach, the team was hyped again. Re-energized. With a renewed confidence in their ability to take the ice, and pull a win out of this game, underdog style.

And Faris had already made up his mind. No matter the outcome, whether they win or lose this series, when they got to the handshake line, number twenty three was getting a hug.

~The End~

Do you have a lucky item like Faris and his team? Nick and I hope their story inspired you to enter the #WattCrocs writing contest!

With hundreds (and hundreds!) of Jibbitz charms and all kinds of Crocs, your personalization possibilities are endless. Charm out your favorite shoes to create a pair that is truly 1 of 1. Check out https://www.crocs.com/