Chapter 22
I spent my New Years’ Eve relaxing. After the brouhaha with Cooper and his crew I
needed to lay low. My Central crew had the New Year’s Tournament in the city, so they were
laying low, too. Branton kids were only tough when they had somebody outnumbered. If we
were anywhere outside Branton, Cooper never would have pushed Big. Away from his crew, he
was nothing more than a scared bitch, evidenced by him crying out for help while Big beat the
piss out of him. I knew that if I went to any of the parties going on tonight, I was definitely
gonna run into them. Four on one are extremely unfavorable odds for me, so I wasn’t willing to
call my bookie and place the bet. Classes started up again on the 3rd, so maybe I would spend the
night organizing all my stuff and then relaxing until practice tomorrow. That sounded good. We had a few days off in between games, so we skated. A lot. Our conditioning was
poor, Brimmer said, and conditioning is key as the season wears on. “Conditioning wins
games”, Brimmer sternly noted. Okay, Socrates. Tuesday, we skated, Wednesday, we skated,
while Thursday and Friday was usually light scrimmaging. Saturday was one of the biggest
games of the season; division rival Berlin, undefeated thus far this season, were blowing out
opponents every game while only rendering five goals in the process. “Time for Danny to
shine”, I thought. If my torrid scoring pace wasn’t enough for everyone to take notice, maybe
this would do it. Brimmer’s speech after practice on Friday was somewhat motivational. “This
is the time”, he stressed, “for the rest of the hockey world to take notice. You beat Berlin
tomorrow night, and you will be THE team to beat.”
He had a point, for once, this season. As much as I hated Cooper and the goon squad,
some kids on the team weren’t all that bad. I wouldn’t mind bringing home a title to Branton,
overshadowing the season that was supposed to be “theirs”. Time to step up, Danny. This is the
big show.
The rink Saturday night was buzzing. Student bodies from both schools were in
abundance, knowing that this was a big game. The black and red monster hadn’t eaten for a
couple of days, and a win over Berlin would be the feast of all feasts. Brimmer was riling us up
in the locker room while a frenzied buzz with whoops and shouts surrounded the team. The
warm-up song came on, and the monster roared to life as we came on the ice. Particularly
rowdier than usual, Branton students were grabbing the glass and shaking it in rhythm with the
song. I was revved up; this was a big game, and I knew I was gonna be the go-to guy tonight.
Berlin was going to key in on me, which meant I had to play better than I normally do. The
better I play, the more I’m keyed on, and the more I’m keyed on, the better I play. I was still on the second line, however. As much as I hated Emerson and Gardiner, they
were a more viable option than McDougall and Doublet. I told my linemates that tonight they
had to step their game up and communication was key. They just nodded, unfazed by my
motivational attempt. The sight in the rink was amazing; one side completely red and black, the
other, green and blue. One section was empty, except for a few jumpsuits and clipboards.
Scouts. Word had clearly gotten around that this may be one of the best games of the season to watch, despite it being Division C. I’m sure Cooper noticed the scouts, too. I’m sure it just
added fuel to his dream car in fairytale land.
I was focused on the game, trying to determine if Berlin had set plays or key guys to
focus on. I looked up just in time to see Cooper get plastered into the boards. The green and
blue reptile from Berlin hissed, and Cooper skated to the bench, hunched over in pain and short
of breath. “You okay, Coop?” asked Brimmer. Cooper crashed onto the bench and was hunched
over in visible pain. That was the last bit of life he would show all game.
Berlin was a good team. They had defensemen who could skate, check, and read plays,
and wingers who weren’t afraid to take the hit on the boards in order to make the breakout pass.
They were a stronger skating team than us, and it appeared early on that the only way to slow
their onslaught was through contact, and lots of it. So the first thing I did when I got on the ice
was rock the first kid I saw. This drew a cheer from the black and red monster, and instantly
made me a target for cheapshots the rest of the game. Being cheapshotted I knew would have no
repercussions for Berlin because the goon squad would be there to finish me off in the event that
it happened.
Being paired with McDougall and Doublet, it was hard to get any offense going. Doublet
was afraid of the defenseman crashing down on him, so he avoided the puck at all costs. I was
being shadowed by two guys everywhere I went on the ice, so that eliminated me as an option.
Kline was our only saving grace. He stopped the third and fourth shots off the initial rebound
and was quick in clearing it away just before Berlin arrived to crash the net. The first period
ended in a scoreless draw. Back in the locker room, Brimmer was neutral about our play; strong
on defense, but weak on the forecheck. We need to hit, he said, because Berlin was big and fast
and that was the only way to slow them down. I should coach this team.
In the second period, we came out flat and Berlin took it to us. Emerson and Gardiner
both got rocked on their first shift and disappeared for the rest of the period. Seeing that our first
line wasn’t going to generate any offense, I knew that my line needed to step it up. Repeating
my first shift of the game, I made a beeline off the bench and laid a crushing bodycheck on the
puck carrier. He fell slowly and the puck squirted onto McDougall’s stick. He turned up ice,
took two strides, and passed me the puck as he got freight-trained by the Berlin defenseman. I
heard the lizard hiss. With the defenseman laying the hit, it left him out of position and left his
teammate to try and defend me. The Berlin defenseman, wide-eyed, saw it was just me and him and tried to force me outside. I looked him in the eye, dropped my left shoulder, and he bit on the fake. He crossed over just as the puck went between his skates, and he knew I had beaten him. I had the crunch of my left skate as I quickly changed my angle and headed towards the net. Streaking in uncontested, I was preparing myself to take the shot when I felt the defenseman’s stick crack over my forearm. Every hockey player knows that there is one inch of unprotected area where the glove ends and the elbow pad begins. Nine times out of ten, a slash happens to find its way and make clean contact with the bone, sometimes hard enough that it results in nauseating pain. To hold a stick at that moment is nearly impossible. The Berlin goalie saw this and skated out just in time to poke the puck away, prompting the referee to blow the whistle for the delayed penalty call. The monster cheered, and we were on the powerplay. I usually like the powerplay, but when my linemates are Cooper, Emerson, Gardiner and Kallock, it is extremely unenjoyable. None of them will pass to me, no matter how dire the circumstances. They would try improbable passes across the offensive zone, only to have them deflected or picked off and cleared. I knew that this powerplay was going to wear on my
patience.
Gardiner took the draw, while Emerson and I lined up strong side. He won the draw,
surprisingly, back to Kallock, who quickly fired a shot that was turned away by the Berlin goalie.
I chased the puck into the corner and took up residence behind the net, waiting for my teammates
to get into position. Emerson floated in front of the net while Gardiner lined up along the boards
at the top of the faceoff circle. Inching towards Gardiner, I drew the Berlin defenseman towards
me and then dished it off to him. He remained stationary while the Berlin penalty killer
defended him, allowing Kallock to sneak in behind the defender. Gardiner sidestepped and
dished the puck off to Kallock who rushed towards the net with only the Berlin defenseman
standing in his path. I tapped my stick on the ice and called for the pass because I was left alone
in front of the net. Kallock looked at me, then looked way. If he passed it, I had a definite goal.
Since he let his personal feelings come on to the ice, he blew an opportunity at a sure goal.
Using the defenseman as a screen, he fired a low shot on the ice that the Berlin goalie saved, but
coughed up a poor rebound. I crashed the net and took a few swings at the puck, with him
stopping the first and second shot. I took a final swipe at the puck as the Berlin defenseman
dropped his shoulder and laid me out clean. I saw a bright flash of light and heard a cheer, first
from the blue and green reptile, then from the black and red monster. I knew I scored. I struggled to my skates, having troubling maintaining my balance since my legs felt like jello. My teammates, clearly not giving a shit, were celebrating with each other while I blinked a few times to clear my blurry vision. My stomach cartwheeled while my head swam, and I dragged
myself to the bench and sat down right away.
“Danny, you O.K.?” asked Tags.
“Yeah, I just got rocked pretty good.”
“You put the goal in. That’s all that counts.”
I’d only been hit this hard one other time in my life. Last year, my crew and i got into a
scuffle after a party and I got punched in the back of the head. I threw up the remainder of the
night and my ears rang for a few days. Those same feelings overwhelmed me now. As the
loudspeaker boomed during the goal announcement, the noise made my head pound even more,
which in turn made my vision blurry. Thanking God after I realized that I just played my last
shift of the period, I dragged my way to the locker room, immediately ran to the bathroom, and
vomited. The pain was gut-wrenching; a vice tightened on my head and my neck muscles
clenched with each violent spasm. After emptying my last three weeks of food, I stumbled back
to my spot in the locker room.
The door to the locker room slammed and I winced. All throughout Brimmer’s speech I
tried to clear my vision and not vomit again. I glanced around the room and saw a nervous gaze
on Tags’ face. He gave me an inquisitive, “Are you OK?” glance, and I looked back at him and
shook my head. Cooper looked to be in worse shape that I was. It was probably due to his lack
of a Y chromosome. He was controlling his breathing by heavy inhales and exhales and looked
ready to throw up. Instead of Cooper giving the captain’s take on the period, Kallock piped up.
I didn’t listen to what he had to say.
We got dominated the third period. Berlin came out flying and we came out flat, and we
were down 3-1 only five minutes into the period. After getting rocked, my energy was tapped
and I was short of breath, and with each breath my neck muscles clenched even more as my
brain punched the inside of my skull. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew that I was gonna have
to take a few more checks and play the body in order to turn this game around. The whole pain
is only temporary thing is such a cliché, but it was true; there was a lot of glory to be had in this
game. At the halfway point, we iced the puck and my line came on the ice. My brain still pounded inside my head, I still had the queasy feeling, and my vision was still a little blurry, but
a solid shift here would give us the momentum.
McDougall won the draw, and Anderson cleared the red line and dumped the puck in.
My legs felt rubbery and my brain took a second longer to relay the message to my legs to move
faster. As I skated down the ice, I read the body of the Berlin defenseman and watched his eyes,
and I knew that he was gonna try a long clearing pass. The minute the puck left his stick, I
skated into the passing line and intercepted the pass. With my reflexes lagging and my reaction
time a second later than it should have been, I had trouble cradling the puck and it bounced off
my stick and slowly rolled end over end in the air. Waiting for the puck to drop, I caught a
glimpse of the Berlin defenseman lining up to check me and steal the puck. Once he was a halffoot away from me, I immediately crouched and laid a vicious hipcheck, sending him sailing
over me. Since no one was expecting what happened, including myself, a clear path opened
while everyone skated in the opposite direction. I felt so lethargic and clumsy on my feet, but I
knew that even as injured as I was, I would still make it to the Berlin net before anyone caught
me.
I planted my foot, pushed off and skated toward the Berlin net, slightly wobbling side to
side as I attempted to maintain my balance. The Berlin goalie skated to the top of his crease,
positioned himself, then slowly glided back to his net as I came in. He was a big goalie and took
up a lot of the net, and even though my brain would have trouble computing simple math right
now, I knew that I had to get him down on the ice and lift it over him. Getting him down would
require me to cut one way or another, and I knew I would fall over if I tried it. That left a shot as
my only option. A quick, low shot would probably end in a rebound, giving me a second chance
at it. I squared up with the Berlin goalie, struggling to keep my balance as I pushed myself
slightly ahead of the puck, and snapped a quick shot to the lower left hand side. Although the
shot wasn’t terribly strong, the goalie was expecting me to deke and the unexpected shot fooled
him. His left leg kicked out after the puck had already entered the net.
I didn’t care that the puck went in. I was just glad my shift was over and that I could sit
down on the bench and maybe throw up. My lungs burned, my head pounded, my stomach
somersaulted. Sticking with tradition, my teammates didn’t bother to congratulate me. I didn’t
give a shit. I could win this game without them. I had done it countless times this season. I got
to the bench, put my head back, and felt the beautiful sensation of sleep envelop me. Sleep? That doesn’t happen during a hockey game. I should probably go to the hospital after this game. They would tell me that I had a concussion, tell me I couldn’t play for a few weeks, and that
would throw my game off. Fuck that. I’ll tough it out.
Brimmer called a timeout. The head pounding and clenched muscles increased in
intensity, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and go to sleep. Brimmer sounded like a
pissed off teacher from the Muppets, and I’m sure he was calling us pussies, or cowards, or
something else encouraging. When the volume of his voice raised, each syllable was like a
sledgehammer to the head.
After Brimmer’s timeout speech, Gardiner gave his captain spiel. “We’re not taking the
body, guys. Berlin is knocking our asses all over the ice, and that’s why they’re winning this
period. We gotta take this game over, right here, right now. 1…2…3…”
Yeah, go Marauders. Hooray aspirin and an ice pack.
Berlin came out hard after the short hiatus, but Kline was up to the challenge. He
stopped five shots in thirty seconds, and the black and red monster showed its’ appreciation.
While our goaltending was up to par, and our defense somewhat up to par, our offense was
lagging. Cooper, after getting rocked in the first period, was ducking every hit and avoiding the
puck at all costs. His line couldn’t get anything going. Since I felt like I had a pneumatic drill in
my head and a pissed off wheel of bad cheese in my stomach, I was basically useless, too. I took
the hits along the boards, crumbling to the ice shortly after. Brimmer was disgusted with our
play, so he gave Tags and the third line a shot. Berlin was only throwing two lines over the
boards, but our third line players were more of use to the team right now than our first line. Tags
was a gamer, and I knew that when it came down to crunch time, he would step his game up.
And that he did. With four minutes left in the game, Tags tied it up with a ridiculous end to end
rush and even more ridiculous finish. I couldn’t believe that after being dominated the entire
game, we were knotted up at 3. It didn’t seem right. Berlin called a timeout with the clock
showing 3:13.
Brimmer took advantage of the Berlin timeout to outline our game plan. “We have new
life now. This is where the hero needs to stand up. We shouldn’t be in this game, but by the
grace of God, we are. Take advantage of the momentum and put one in here. I want Cooper,
Emerson, Gardiner, Kallock, and Adams on the ice. Adams, take the left wing, and Emerson,
you play D with Kallock. Bring it in, guys. 1…2…3…”
Concussion!
I had nothing left to finish the game with. My legs were jello, my stomach some other
gelatinous substance and my head a target on a firing range. The black and red monster roared
as the green and blue lizard hissed, trying to establish dominance over one another. I knew that
if I didn’t feel the way I did, I would win this game for our team. But the fact of the matter was
that I was in no shape to play hockey. None. I would be better off in a hospital bed. I suddenly
came out of my rambling thoughts and saw the play going on with the puck lazily flipping into
our zone. Kallock and Emerson rushed back to retrieve the puck. I set up shop along the boards,
while Cooper skated behind the net to retrieve the puck from Kallock. Any smart center would
have picked the puck up, passed to the wing, then immediately expected a pass back. Cooper
wasn’t smart. He started skating up ice, then flung the puck away carelessly when he saw a hit
coming. The Berlin winger ended up with the puck on his stick, and three seconds later, it was in
the back of the net. Two minutes left, Berlin was up 4-3. The black and red monster took a step
back and the lizard took a step forward and established dominance over the kill. Two minutes
can be a lifetime in a hockey game. Two minutes was a death sentence in this game. Berlin was
a better team, and they had the momentum. It might have been a different story if Cooper wasn’t
such a pussy and ducked the hit. Nevertheless, the game was over, and both sides knew it. The buzzer sounded and Berlin’s bench emptied. The monster scattered quickly, while
the lizard remained, relishing the victory. If we weren’t already defeated physically, Brimmer
defeated us mentally as he entered the locker room in a typhoon of swears and saliva. “You
fucking cowards…ducking hits…I’ve seen more of a backbone in snakes…got dominated all
game.” He wrapped up with, “Practice at 6 A.M. tomorrow morning. And, OOPS, looks like I’ll
forget my pucks. Pussies.”
The last thing I wanted to do this morning was skate. So I slept in until 8:00,
unintentionally. After my mother woke me up and told me that my alarm had been going off
constantly since 5:00, the first word that popped into my head that morning was “Fuck”. I
missed practice. An important practice. One that would stick me on the third line at this point. I
knew I was hurt bad last night, and maybe my body didn’t want me to skate this morning.
Regardless, I was fucked. Not that it mattered. When I walked outside to start my car, I noticed
it listing to one side. I walked around the passenger side and saw that both tires were deflated.
After inspecting the tires and noticing no puncture marks and the nonexistence of a valve cap, I
summoned my Sherlock Holmes powers and conducted that there was only one culprit: Cooper.
After Brimmer had singled him out during his post game tirade, he was probably afraid of being
benched or demoted. After seeing him duck a hit and cough up the puck to lose the game, I
would have benched him, too. His childish demeanor would translate into something as childish
as this. Since my mom was at work and I had no other way to get to school, I decided to take the
day off.
The more the day wore on, there more I became pleased with the decision. No shuffling
between classes, no boring note taking, no slop for lunch. I knew that missing this morning’s
practice was gonna come back to bite me in the ass, but it was a repercussion I was willing to
deal with.
My mom came home from work around 5. “How was school today?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Why?”
“I came outside and my tires were flat.”
“Did you run over something?”
“No.”
“They why were they flat?”
“Somebody deflated them.”
“Did Cooper do it?”
I looked at my mom quizzically.
“I know more than you let me know, Danny. I know about the little scuffle you and the
boys had with Cooper and his friends at the pizza shop.”
I just stared at my mom. Then shrugged my shoulders.
“Do me one favor, though. Actually, two favors. Be careful. And stay out of trouble.” I nodded.
“Promise?”
“Yeah, mom.”
“Do you need new tires on your car?”
“No, they just hafta be inflated. I’ll call Triple A or something.”
“Ok.”
I looked up at the ceiling as my mom headed to her room. “Damn”, I thought. “Mothers
know everything.”
Before classes even started on Wednesday, I had an encounter with Kallock and
Gardiner.
“So, Adams, too good to come to practice?” Kallock started.
“I don’t need the practice. You could definitely use it.”
“Alright, tough guy. You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Well, Brimmer is pissed, and,
ah, I don’t see you playing too much more this season”, he smirked.
“Well, to be honest, you guys don’t really have a season without me.”
“We played fine before you, and we’ll be fine without you”, Gardiner said, suddenly
having the balls to step up and say something. Probably because it was two on one. I looked at Gardiner. “I’d like to see you put up points without me, you clown. I made
you. I’ve made this season so far. I am this team. Did Mommy and Daddy tell you guys that
you were the greatest and that your shit didn’t stink? I’d really like to see how far you guys go
without me. Keep trying your luck. That fucking stunt yesterday morning with someone
deflating my tires was the final straw. That was just a testament to your cowardice. You pussies
are nothing outside of this Podunk town. You were looking for a problem, and you found it. But
you picked the wrong fucking kid to have a problem with.”
I faked like I was gonna punch Kallock, which prompted him to flinch back into the
lockers. “Next time it will be the real thing”, I said.
“You’re done here, Adams”, I heard Kallock say as I walked away.
After dealing with Kallock and Gardiner, I went to homeroom. Before I even sat down,
my teacher told that Coach Brimmer requested my presence. “Great”, I thought. I reluctantly
made my way down to his office.
Brimmer acknowledged me, then told me to come in and sit down. By the mere tone of
his voice, I knew he wasn’t pleased.
“First of all, why weren’t you at practice yesterday morning?”
“I had flat tires.”
“Tires, as in plural?”
“Yup. And I know I didn’t run over anything to cause that.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m less than impressed with your attitude, Danny. Not showing up to practice after a
game like that really speaks negatively about your conduct. There is a zero-tolerance policy on
this team.”
“I’m telling that you I had no choice. I didn’t have a car to get there.”
“Why didn’t you call anyone?”
“Who was I gonna call? The captains?” I sarcastically replied.
“You could have.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Am I bothering you, Adams? Don’t you roll your fuckin’ eyes when I’m talking to you.
Who do you think you are? I can end your season right now, you better believe it.” I stared at him. “Ok.” I knew he wasn’t gonna kick me off the team.
“Get the fuck outta my office. And don’t count on playing tonight. But if you blow this
game off, don’t even bother showing up for the rest of the season.”
I didn’t even dignify him with a response. I was fed up with this ridiculous town and the
sheltered people that lived in it. This was a Division C school. Not the pros. These kids thought
hockey was the be all, end all, and their parents just fed those thoughts by telling their kids they
were actually good. It was pathetic the way people acted around here. They would screw you
over for a piece of moldy bread on the sole basis that you wanted it. Usually I haven’t played
down to the juveniles I’ve come across in my life, but at this point, I exhausted all my options. I
was gonna call Big and the crew and show the goon squad I was done fucking around. With my day staring off on a sour note and knowing that I wasn’t gonna play tonight, I
spend my day pissed off and not caring about much. On game days, I absorb the buzz and
excitement given off by the students, but today it just pissed me off. On my way to the last class
of the day, I walked past Cooper in the hallway. He shot me a smug glance and chuckled to
himself. I looked back at him and calmly told him, “You’re a dead man.” He rolled his eyes and
headed on his way. I went home and called Big after a long day of classes. After explaining the
antics that the goon squad pulled, he was none too impressed. As long as I had a problem with
Cooper, he had a problem with Cooper too, he said. He was willing to help at all costs to even
the score.
“It will be a surprise”, he promised me. “We don’t have a game tonight, and from my
understanding, you do.”
“Yeah.”
“So, anything that happens to them or their cars can’t be pinned on you because you’re at
the game with them.”
“Yeah, but the next likely suspects are you and the crew.”
“Come on, Danny. We’ve done worse than this. Everybody will be too absorbed in the
game to even notice what’s going on.”
He was ri