“Phil is sulking or something. And his playing sucks.” Dave Vanderhauf was getting in my face after a rare practice. Dave really wanted to win the final, so he had actually ponied up for practice ice. Phil couldn’t come of course, since he was working overtime again.
I knew why Phil was sulking. We had been on an emotional seesaw ever since I got back from the NHL Awards weekend. He was mad at me for breaking my own rules and fooling around. If I had thought about my stupid dating game idea for more than a minute, I should have predicted that this would happen—Phil’s jealousy was his worst quality, and now he was acting like a tool. But how could I blame him? He had good reason to get jealous, and it was all my fault. And Jimmy was bugging me too. He was all puppy dog eyes and guilt trips, letting me know how much trouble he was going to, just for me. My personal life was so dramatic and pressure-filled. Lately, I was tempted to blow them both off.
“What am I supposed to do about it?” I asked Dave.
Dave waggled a finger at me. “You know what I’ve noticed about your relationship—you never sleep over. So, how about tonight, I’ll let you in and you can be waiting for Phil in his bed. Naked—or how about just boots? I like boots. That’ll cheer him up.”
“Wow, thanks for showing me the Vanderhauf charm that’s shipwrecked a thousand relationships. Not happening.”
“Then what, Kelly? He got on this team because he wanted to be with you. And I had to trade Matt Sakura, who was a big goal scorer, to balance things. Now he’s sucking, and it’s all your fault.”
Dave was right. I had brought this on myself, and now hockey—the one place I went to release my stress—was becoming a new source of tension. Between Phil being pissed and now Dave getting mad, I felt like slamming someone into the boards. Too bad it wasn’t that kind of hockey.
Friday night was our big championship game. Our opposition was the Ice Hogs, and Dave had some personal vendetta against them. But they had beaten us all three times in the regular season, so we were the underdogs for sure.
Phil was working late, so Dave drove me to the rink. He spent the whole ride formulating our game plan. Then when we got to the dressing room, he started droning on about strategy. It wasn’t like we were a real team; we were a bunch of individual players. If everyone worked hard and did their best, we could win. We weren’t suddenly going to start doing complicated power plays or flashy break-outs because Dave told us to. “Pass the puck hard, and keep your shifts short,” that’s all I would have said.
Every guy thinks he’s Scotty Bowman though, so I tried to pay attention. By the time we got on the ice, the Ice Hogs were already warming up. I threw my extra stick on the bench and went out for a skate. When I got out there, someone by the boards called out to me.
“Hey, Kelly.”
Holy fuck. It was Jimmy! He wasn’t even supposed to be in town this weekend.
I skated over, and he opened the corner door to talk to me.
“Jimmy, um, this is a big surprise. How did you even know where I was?”
“You mentioned your team name before, so I looked it up. I remembered that you wished I had seen your championship game at McGill. I figured this is the next best thing. I’ve never gotten to see you play a real game.”
Jimmy’s memory was scary. But this game wasn’t really important like my university final. I swallowed hard.
“Oh wow. Don’t expect too much.” I felt completely inadequate. What could be worse than an NHL player watching your beer league game? “I hope you won’t be bored. Feel free to leave if you want.”
“I won’t get bored. I got Baller to come with me.” He motioned up to the stands, and Ty gave me a little hand wave that I returned weakly. I guess having two NHL players watch your beer league game would be worse. He looked at my stick. “Hey, I should have gotten you some new twigs.”
“It’s okay. I burned through your last ones during school, but I really appreciated them.” Composite sticks were great for shooting, but they were more fragile. “Look, I better warm up.”
He smiled and wished me good luck. I was still feeling a little stunned. I started skating and tried to get into game mindset. But then Phil skated up beside me, and I realized the other disastrous side effect of Jimmy’s surprise.
“How could you invite Frechette to the game? Hockey is our time together!”
“Ground rules, Phil. Can we not do this right now? We’re supposed to be getting ready for a big game.” The buzzer sounded, and we skated to the bench.
Phil wasn’t done though. He looked up in the near-empty stands. There were a few random girlfriends, but the two guys certainly stood out.
“Who’s the other guy? Door number three in the dating game?”
“It’s Tyler Ballanchuk.”
“Two NHL players are watching our championship? That’s fucking ridiculous. Is there nothing this guy won’t do to kiss up to you?”
I felt like screaming. After that first night, I never wanted these two within a kilometer of each other again. Then I got an idea of how I could at least take advantage of this situation. “At least they’ll get to see how good I am. You have more to be worried about though.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been in a major slump lately. What like, zero goals in the last four games? And I told Jimmy you were the top player on my team for years.”
This was a total lie, but it was for a good cause. Those Ice Hogs were a cocky team, and they deserved everything that was going to happen to them.
Phil played like a man possessed. If I weren’t on his line, I would have enjoyed watching him zoom around, going end-to-end, rushing, deking, dangling, and scoring. As it was, I could hardly keep up with him, and my only really good play was scoring a goal as the trailer on the play. Everyone else seemed to be following his example and going all out. The Ice Hogs were good though, and the game remained tight. I think they were a little surprised at how intense we were tonight.
“Have I told you how fucking awesome you are?” Dave asked me when he was beside me on the bench, halfway through the game.
“I never get tired of hearing that.”
“I don’t know what you said to him, but PD is on fire. This is the best I’ve seen him play all season. What did you promise him tonight? A three-way? Anal? A little dominatrix action—I bet you’re good at that.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Dave knew no boundaries.
Between the second and third periods, Dave was yammering away about strategy. Jimmy motioned to me, and I skated over to see what he wanted.
“Hey, gorgeous, good game,” he began. “We noticed that the goalie is really weak high on the blocker side, and he’s not completely shutting down the five-hole.”
“If I could actually aim my shots, that would be really helpful,” I told him.
“Whatever. You look cute in your gear.” He gave me a big smile.
I smiled back and skated to the bench.
“What did that asshole say?” Phil asked.
“He said to go high blocker or five-hole. If you can.”
Faroush, one of the defencemen, leaned across to talk to me.
“That guy you were talking to, he looks a lot like James Frechette. You know, of the Chicago Blackhawks.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He gets that a lot.”
Dave was listening. His goal was high on the blocker side.
Near the end of the third, Phil scored five-hole, skated by and stuck his tongue out at me. How mature. Almost as mature as manipulating Phil for the win.
Final score: Flying Pucks: 7, Ice Hogs: 3.
James
We were sitting up in the stands watching the warm-up for Kelly’s hockey game. Baller was bitching a little.
“I can’t believe I’m sitting at Eight Rinks watching scrubs. I played here when I was a kid.”
I shrugged. “Kelly’s watched me play before.”
“Yeah, but we’re the top hockey players in the world. This is beer league.”
“It’s the championship for her.”
I wanted to show her that I did take her interests seriously, and besides, I liked watching hockey. You could analyze problems and determine how to correct them. Bad hockey could be an even better learning experience. Besides, other than camp, I’d never seen Kelly play hockey.
It was kind of interesting. She was the smallest player out there and not that strong. So she seemed to pick her spots and try to stay under the radar. Her skills were much better than last time I’d seen her.
The centreman on her line was the best player on the ice; he was big and strong and had some decent puck skills. Plus he had that aggressiveness that really separates the good players: you have to want the puck and want to be the one who makes the huge play. He didn’t pass to Kelly much, and she was scrambling to keep up. He was a bit of a puck hog. He did make one beautiful drop pass to her, and she shot right away, but the goalie saved it. Her shot wasn’t hard enough. But she was the best female player on the ice.
After the first period, I saw the big centre take off his helmet and throw some water on his head. I swore, and Baller followed my gaze to the bench.
It was friggin’ Phil Davidson.
Kelly had never mentioned that they were playing hockey together. To be fair, she had never mentioned her hockey team until I had noticed the gear drying in her room. I knew they had played hockey together when they were kids, but I didn’t know they were back on the same team.
What a pain in the ass. If I were playing with her, I would be so much better than him. I would be setting her up for goals instead of hot-dogging. But there was no recreational league in the world where both of us could be on the same team unless we were 70 years old.
“What’s wrong, Freeze?”
“The big centre on her line. That’s her ex-boyfriend from high school.”
“So?”
I wondered how much I should tell him. It was tough not talking about this. “It’s kinda complicated, but Kelly and I are not dating exclusively. And he’s the guy I’m worried about.” That sounded completely lame; “exclusively” was a chick word.
“Are you shitting me?” Baller scowled. “I can’t believe that. When you guys were at my place, I could have sworn she was crazy about you.”
“She is into me. She just doesn’t want to rush into anything.”
He was silent for a long time. We watched the back and forth of the game, and Kelly’s team was in a little trouble. Finally, Baller delivered his verdict. “I bet this is your fault.”
“My fault? How can that be?” From gifts to trips, I had fulfilled the dreams of any normal girlfriend.
“You go off the deep end about everything. You’re probably talking marriage or something, and she’s running scared.”
“That’s ridiculous. But it’s only logical that we can’t have a relationship unless she moves to Chicago.”
“Where’s she going to live?” he asked.
“My place. I’ve got that whole big condo now.”
“Fuuuuck me.” He started laughing. “Did you buy that place so she’d move in with you?”
I shook my head. Maybe it had been in the back of my mind, but I wanted my own place.
“You remind me of my ex-girlfriends—but in reverse. Eventually, they all want to move in with me and I’m shitting my pants at the idea. I feel sorry for Kelly.”
“Crap, Baller. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Well sure, I want things to work out with you guys. But give her some space for Chrissakes. After a year of living together, I know you.”
He was bugging me. “You know dick about my love life. I didn’t even have a real girlfriend while I was living with you.”
“Everything is so intense with you. You probably have some plan set in stone that includes marriage and kids. You’re not even 21! Don’t you think it’s time you kicked back and acted your age?”
That was ridiculous. Everything I’d achieved was because I’d done things beyond what was expected at my age or abilities. Getting my personal life in order was another goal that would help me focus on hockey. Besides, if there was anything I’d learned in my rookie year, it was how artificial relationships got once you were in the NHL.
“Baller, do you ever worry that all the girls you meet only like you because you’re a rich NHL player? And you won’t ever meet a girl that likes you for yourself? Y’know, like Mac and Maddy—it’s real because they started dating in high school.”
“Are you talking about my new girlfriend? You haven’t even met her.”
“No, no, I mean in general.”
“Nah, I think you get a better quality girl because of the NHL stuff. Girls who wouldn’t even look at you normally. Otherwise you could ask your friends to introduce you to someone regular or average. Is that what you really want?”
“I want Kelly.” This was something I’d thought about a lot. I had always figured that I’d get a girlfriend when I got to the NHL. But the girls I’d met so far were pretty phony. Girls never seemed to get me.
I hadn’t told anyone why I’d broken up with Samantha, a girl I dated at UMaine. She had been gorgeous and nice. She seemed to understand me and all the stress I was under. Then one day I’d overheard her talking to her best friend on the phone.
“I know he’s a little boring and obsessed, but he’s going to the NHL. Nobody’s perfect, right?” Hearing those words was like a body blow. Someone you’d confided your problems to, who seemed to be concerned, was thinking the whole time how boring you were.
When I looked around the team, it was almost like there was a dividing line between the girlfriends you got before and after you made the NHL. The “before” ones were pretty, but they were loyal too—nice and dependable. They’d stuck with you through crap already and seemed happy to finally make it. The “after” ones were really gorgeous, but who knew why they were there? They could be total phonies like Samantha, and smart enough to fool you.
Kelly wasn’t like that though. I had confided to her a lot, on the phone and in person, and she always listened and sympathized. And even that night in Toronto, she couldn’t help but respond to me when I had real problems. She was so sweet. Which was why I didn’t get why she was making me do all this.
“If you want her, you’ll get her. A guy like that—” he pointed to Davidson, “can never match you. I mean you’re a fucking NHL superstar. No girl in her right mind is going to choose Joe Average instead of you. And Kelly really digs you; I can tell when I see guys together. You definitely have a connection.”
I hoped he was right. “Do you ever think about what you’ll do after hockey?”
“Yeah, maybe retire someplace warm with lots of chicks around.” He laughed.
“No, really. It’ll be crappy not to be able to play hockey for a living.”
“What are you worried about? You just finished your rookie year, for fuck’s sake.”
I had talked to some former NHLers, and they all said the same thing: you couldn’t play hockey for fun once you retire. The younger guys are all looking to hit you and say they took out an NHL guy, and you’re too good for most of the rec leagues. Outside of old-timer games or coaching, you don’t get to play much after your career. It was pretty sad to think about giving up the thing you loved the most, forever.
Baller shook his head. “Freeze, you borrow trouble. Get your head out of your ass. We’re young, we’ve got money, and the world is our pineapple.”
“I think you mean apple.”
“Whatever. Lay down the law with Kelly. Tell her she needs to make up her mind. Women don’t really like to be in charge, they like it when a guy is the guy.”
I didn’t think that would work, but he was sort of right. I could see that Kelly wasn’t enjoying the dating game at all. She seemed miserable and stressed. That reassured me that she wasn’t a complete headcase—she hated this as much as I did. Maybe she did need a push in the right direction.
“Hey, Tiff and I are flying up to Kelowna tomorrow to stay at Mac and Maddy’s place. You and Kelly should come.”
“Okay, I’ll suggest it to her. Will it be okay with Mac?”
“Yeah, he’s got a huge place on the lake. Room for the whole team.”
This was a great idea. I wanted Kelly to know that she’d have lots of new girlfriends in Chicago, and this would be a perfect way to get to know two of them. If Tiffany even lasted past the summer, most of Baller’s relationships were short-lived. But Maddy was really nice anyway.
The second period was pretty close, but Davidson scored once and Kelly scored too. The goalie gave up a big rebound and she pounced and fired it in. It was a 3-3 tie. Afterwards I called her over to give her a few tips. She looked so cute in her gear—all glowing and amped. I had forgotten how much she loved playing.
She passed on our advice, and her team broke things wide-open, scoring four unanswered goals. I could see that she and Davidson had something going on. They were arguing on the bench and even on the ice. I figured this was better than if they were getting along well.
I thought Kelly might want to go out with her team afterwards, but she came out with us instead. We went out to some Japanese restaurant Baller recommended. Kelly was bubbly and excited after their win. Despite his bitching at the rink, Baller got along with Kelly as well as ever. I kind of envied the ease of their chatter. Once we got back together, we could relax like that too.
“I really enjoyed seeing you play,” I told her. Kelly gave 100% on the ice. “I hope it was okay that I dropped in.”
Baller shook his head slightly when I said that. But I remembered how pissed she was when she saw me at the golf tournament.
She gave me a crooked smile. “We probably wouldn’t have won if you didn’t come.”
“Oh, you mean those goaltender tips?”
“Yeah, that too.” And then she laughed, and I laughed along with her. It was great to see Kelly acting normal. But Baller was right. When I drove her home that night, we made out in the car. I kissed her, on the face, and then on the lips. The way she responded to me, I couldn’t help but feel how much emotion there was between us. When we were together like this, I was sure she loved me and I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just admit it.
I held her face in my hands. “Kelly, I love you. I really want you to make up your mind—so we can be together. I’ll have to ramp up the training in August, and I’d like to spend time relaxing with you first.” I kissed her again. Well, not just relaxing. I had plans for my first 48 hours with Kelly that didn’t involve any relaxation at all.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and unreadable.
“I think I have made up my mind, but I want to sleep on it. Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow?”