Sunday, November 21, 2004
5.
5.
Kim stood at the corner of Trumbull and Asylum Streets in Hartford. It was 9:30 and Gary hadn’t shown up yet, and the game was in a half an hour. She had insisted on getting here early, and Kat was smoking a cigarette and grumbling about the cold. She saw people she knew heading inside, but Gary had their tickets, so they had to wait. It had begun to snow lightly, but it was still warm enough that it was only making the pavement wet. She watched the marquee for upcoming events and rubber her hands together.
“I’m freezing my ass off out here, Kim. Where the fuck is Gary?” Kat glared at her. “Why couldn’t we be waiting inside the mall? At least it’s warm in there.”
“Then go in, if you’re so goddamned cold. That’s what you get for wearing a miniskirt to a hockey game in February.” Kim looked down Trumbull Street and saw Gary walking in their direction. “Here he is anyway.”
Gary was carrying a bag with a banner and his Holy Mother hockey jersey and his face was painted bright green and yellow. He hopped off the curb at Asylum street and narrowly avoided getting run over by a Federal Express delivery truck. Once the coast was clear, he crossed the street and came up to Kim.
“That was close, huh? Hey, hot stuff, howzitgoin?” He handed Kim the bag with the banner in it and took off his jacket. He carefully put the jersey on, making sure not to rub off any of the makeup on his face. Kim noticed that it was still fairly wet. “How do I look?”
Before Kim had a chance to reply, Kat came up and punched Gary in the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Gary, you think you could have been any later?”
“I’m sorry. I was fixing my makeup. Now I understand why you girls always take so damn much time in the bathroom.” He smiled. “I’ve been here for almost an hour, but I was just chilling in the car.”
The Civic Center was the home of the Hartford Whalers of the NHL as well as a fairly popular concert venue. Kim and Doug had, in fact, been there just a week earlier to see Eric Clapton. It was also the largest hockey arena in the state, and all of the Connecticut state hockey title games would be held here over the course of this day, to be followed in the evening by the Whale taking on the Minnesota North Stars. Were it not for the bash, Gary and Charlie probably would have been staying all day.
Gary handed Kim and Kat their tickets and the three of them headed into the arena. The security guards looked in Gary’s bag, probably to make sure he didn’t have anything to toss on the ice. The year before, someone had thrown a chain at Charlie as he headed down the ice on a breakaway. He’d deftly avoided the chain and scored a goal anyway. It had been disallowed because of the distraction, but it hadn’t mattered, as the Tigers had been up 4-1 at that point in the game anyway. Once through the security, they headed for their seats. Holy Mother’s bench was on the Asylum Street side of the arena, and Gary’s tickets were in section 102, right on the ice, next to the Tiger bench. Kat broke away from them and went to talk to some of her friends, and Gary and Kim went down and sat in their seats.
“So who’s at the house now?” Kim asked as Gary motioned to a vendor selling sodas.
“Audra and Colette are getting things together, though not for a while yet. I don’t anticipate anyone showing up until at least an hour or two after the game ends. You want a soda?”
“Sure.” Gary took two Cokes from the vendor, paid, and sat back down. Kim took the soda and sipped at it. “You want a buck for that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He drank half his soda in one gulp. “So how’s Doug been the last few days? He was very quiet on the ride up, and he didn’t seem his usual self last night. He let Bill run the sound check at the house.”
Kim tried to smile. “I don’t know, Gary. He has good days and bad days. We’ll have three or four days where everything’s like it was when we first started going together, then something will set him off and he gets into a funk. Like the other night, when we were out.” She told him about the fire truck and the subsequent death of their evening. He nodded and patted her shoulder.
“I understand. You know, Charlie can be like that too. But he doesn’t really bottle his shit up. He goes out there,” Gary pointed out to the rink, “and leaves it all out there.”
“Well, Kat and Charlie are having problems too, or didn’t you know?”
“What’s to know?” He considered telling her about Charlie’s encounter with Colette and the draft, but decided against it. Kim was hardly loose-lipped, and she and Kat didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but he figured it was better not to be mentioned. “He comes home, he goes out to the rink, he comes home, he goes to sleep. I see him in school. I’m sure that everything will start resolving itself tonight anyway.” And how, Gary mentally added.
Charlie sat in the locker room and waited out the pre-game period. He hated this time most of all, because he just wanted to get out on the ice and play. Today, more then any other day, though, he hated this. Not just because it was the last time he’d be lacing up his skates in a Holy Mother uniform. He was a bit sad because this was the last time he’d go out to battle with his boys. He looked around the room at his team. It was his team, after all. Coach had seen the talent before Charlie was a freshman, and knew that he’d be best to build his next three years worth of teams around the kid with the funny accent and the spectacular talent on the ice.
Doug sat on the stool in front of his locker. He had a pair of headphones on and Charlie assumed he was listening to either King Crimson or John Coltrane to get himself up for the game. They’d played pee-wee hockey together when Charlie had first come down from Canada. Every kid at St. Andrew’s had taken the Holy Mother exam, as well as the Prep and Hopkins exams. Doug had passed fairly easily, but Randy and Laura O’Donnell weren’t exactly rolling in the money, and Holy Mother wasn’t cheap. But Coach knew that Doug and Charlie were winning linemates, and he’d found a scholarship for Doug so he could play for the Tigers. Unlike Charlie, though, he was thinking more about music and less about continuing his mediocre hockey career.
Charlie looked across the room. Now, Bill, he was sort of an odd case. At six-ten, most people would have assumed that he’d be playing basketball. But he’d only hit six-ten in the last eight or nine months. When he started playing defense for the Tigers in his second freshman year at the age of fourteen, he was six-two and weighed a sturdy two hundred and eighty pounds, most of which was muscle. He’d been a nickelback for the Tigers freshman football team as well, but he enjoyed the speed rush that came from hitting someone on the ice more then tackling someone, so he’d given up the gridiron. Now, though he was getting bored of it, and thinking more about riding Doug’s coattails to the Top Forty.
Next to Bill, Jack was stretching on the floor. If Bill was sort of an odd case, Jack took the cake. Charlie knew that Jack was into all his weird eastern stuff, but he also knew that Jack was playing hockey to make his parents happy. Or at least his mother, anyway. Jack had also been on the pee-wee team with Doug and Charlie, but he’d nearly abandoned the game in eighth grade for Kendo. Charlie had spent some time with Jack when he was learning the intial disciplines, and he’d convinced Jack to keep at it while still playing hockey. Charlie figured that if nothing else, it would help his stickwork, which had been somewhat of an issue when they were playing pee-wee. It had worked, and Jack had become as skilled with a goaltender’s stick as he was with the Kendo stick. Jack had also taught him how to swear in Japanese. He’d used this to his advantage on many occasions against referees who pissed him off. But now Jack was going to be going off to the west coast, and probably overseas after that.
Coach opened the door from his temporary office and walked into the center of the room, and everyone stopped what they were doing. Jack got up off the floor and sat back down on his stool, and Doug took off his headphones. Charlie assumed that Coach was going to give them a pep talk of some kind, and was more then a little surprised when he didn’t say anything at all. He just turned to Charlie and said “Come on up.”
The boys clapped as Charlie walked into the center of the room. He reddened a little. He was the captain after all, but he hadn’t planned a pep talk or anything like that. Behind him, Doug put his hands up, and everyone fell silent. Charlie looked at them all for a moment.
“Uh, I really don’t know what to say to you guys. I’ve been a Tiger for four years now, and I’ve been Captain for the last two, and they’ve been the best four years of my life.” He paused for a second, lost in the moment. This really was the end, wasn’t it? “Uh, some of you guys are still gonna be around next year, and a couple of you will still be here for another three. But for me, Bill, Jack, and Doug, this is the end of the line. I know that the Register doesn’t think we’re gonna win today, and that’s all fine and good. But I also know one thing.
“I know that this team, this year, is the best team that I’ve played with in the four years I’ve been a Tiger. No bullshit. And you young guys, you’re gonna hopefully be able to carry on without us next year. I know that the Joker’s ready to keep it going if nobody else is.” Doug reached over and ruffled Jake Chambers’s hair and got a poke with Jake’s stick for his trouble. Charlie laughed, then continued.
“I just want you guys to know, and you too, Coach, that I’ve loved every single minute of the four years that I’ve been a Holy Mother Tiger. And no matter where I end up in life, I’ll always carry these four years deep in my heart as some of the best moments of my life.” Charlie looked around at his boys.
“Now I want everyone to go out there knowing that no newspaper, no fan, no official, not even those Prep bastards on the other side of the ice can take away what we are. And what we are, boys, is champions. Even if we lose, we’re still the best damn hockey team in the state of Connecticut.” The locker room roared. “Everybody in.” They all crowded in around Charlie.
“Who are we?”
“HOLY MOTHER!”
“I said, WHO ARE WE?!?”
“CHAMPIONS!”
“That’s right! And what are we gonna do?”
“KICK PREPPIE ASS!” The entire team let out a war whoop and stormed out of the locker room, headed for the ice. Charlie watched them go, smiled, then started heading down the ramp after them.
Kim stood at the corner of Trumbull and Asylum Streets in Hartford. It was 9:30 and Gary hadn’t shown up yet, and the game was in a half an hour. She had insisted on getting here early, and Kat was smoking a cigarette and grumbling about the cold. She saw people she knew heading inside, but Gary had their tickets, so they had to wait. It had begun to snow lightly, but it was still warm enough that it was only making the pavement wet. She watched the marquee for upcoming events and rubber her hands together.
“I’m freezing my ass off out here, Kim. Where the fuck is Gary?” Kat glared at her. “Why couldn’t we be waiting inside the mall? At least it’s warm in there.”
“Then go in, if you’re so goddamned cold. That’s what you get for wearing a miniskirt to a hockey game in February.” Kim looked down Trumbull Street and saw Gary walking in their direction. “Here he is anyway.”
Gary was carrying a bag with a banner and his Holy Mother hockey jersey and his face was painted bright green and yellow. He hopped off the curb at Asylum street and narrowly avoided getting run over by a Federal Express delivery truck. Once the coast was clear, he crossed the street and came up to Kim.
“That was close, huh? Hey, hot stuff, howzitgoin?” He handed Kim the bag with the banner in it and took off his jacket. He carefully put the jersey on, making sure not to rub off any of the makeup on his face. Kim noticed that it was still fairly wet. “How do I look?”
Before Kim had a chance to reply, Kat came up and punched Gary in the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Gary, you think you could have been any later?”
“I’m sorry. I was fixing my makeup. Now I understand why you girls always take so damn much time in the bathroom.” He smiled. “I’ve been here for almost an hour, but I was just chilling in the car.”
The Civic Center was the home of the Hartford Whalers of the NHL as well as a fairly popular concert venue. Kim and Doug had, in fact, been there just a week earlier to see Eric Clapton. It was also the largest hockey arena in the state, and all of the Connecticut state hockey title games would be held here over the course of this day, to be followed in the evening by the Whale taking on the Minnesota North Stars. Were it not for the bash, Gary and Charlie probably would have been staying all day.
Gary handed Kim and Kat their tickets and the three of them headed into the arena. The security guards looked in Gary’s bag, probably to make sure he didn’t have anything to toss on the ice. The year before, someone had thrown a chain at Charlie as he headed down the ice on a breakaway. He’d deftly avoided the chain and scored a goal anyway. It had been disallowed because of the distraction, but it hadn’t mattered, as the Tigers had been up 4-1 at that point in the game anyway. Once through the security, they headed for their seats. Holy Mother’s bench was on the Asylum Street side of the arena, and Gary’s tickets were in section 102, right on the ice, next to the Tiger bench. Kat broke away from them and went to talk to some of her friends, and Gary and Kim went down and sat in their seats.
“So who’s at the house now?” Kim asked as Gary motioned to a vendor selling sodas.
“Audra and Colette are getting things together, though not for a while yet. I don’t anticipate anyone showing up until at least an hour or two after the game ends. You want a soda?”
“Sure.” Gary took two Cokes from the vendor, paid, and sat back down. Kim took the soda and sipped at it. “You want a buck for that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He drank half his soda in one gulp. “So how’s Doug been the last few days? He was very quiet on the ride up, and he didn’t seem his usual self last night. He let Bill run the sound check at the house.”
Kim tried to smile. “I don’t know, Gary. He has good days and bad days. We’ll have three or four days where everything’s like it was when we first started going together, then something will set him off and he gets into a funk. Like the other night, when we were out.” She told him about the fire truck and the subsequent death of their evening. He nodded and patted her shoulder.
“I understand. You know, Charlie can be like that too. But he doesn’t really bottle his shit up. He goes out there,” Gary pointed out to the rink, “and leaves it all out there.”
“Well, Kat and Charlie are having problems too, or didn’t you know?”
“What’s to know?” He considered telling her about Charlie’s encounter with Colette and the draft, but decided against it. Kim was hardly loose-lipped, and she and Kat didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but he figured it was better not to be mentioned. “He comes home, he goes out to the rink, he comes home, he goes to sleep. I see him in school. I’m sure that everything will start resolving itself tonight anyway.” And how, Gary mentally added.
Charlie sat in the locker room and waited out the pre-game period. He hated this time most of all, because he just wanted to get out on the ice and play. Today, more then any other day, though, he hated this. Not just because it was the last time he’d be lacing up his skates in a Holy Mother uniform. He was a bit sad because this was the last time he’d go out to battle with his boys. He looked around the room at his team. It was his team, after all. Coach had seen the talent before Charlie was a freshman, and knew that he’d be best to build his next three years worth of teams around the kid with the funny accent and the spectacular talent on the ice.
Doug sat on the stool in front of his locker. He had a pair of headphones on and Charlie assumed he was listening to either King Crimson or John Coltrane to get himself up for the game. They’d played pee-wee hockey together when Charlie had first come down from Canada. Every kid at St. Andrew’s had taken the Holy Mother exam, as well as the Prep and Hopkins exams. Doug had passed fairly easily, but Randy and Laura O’Donnell weren’t exactly rolling in the money, and Holy Mother wasn’t cheap. But Coach knew that Doug and Charlie were winning linemates, and he’d found a scholarship for Doug so he could play for the Tigers. Unlike Charlie, though, he was thinking more about music and less about continuing his mediocre hockey career.
Charlie looked across the room. Now, Bill, he was sort of an odd case. At six-ten, most people would have assumed that he’d be playing basketball. But he’d only hit six-ten in the last eight or nine months. When he started playing defense for the Tigers in his second freshman year at the age of fourteen, he was six-two and weighed a sturdy two hundred and eighty pounds, most of which was muscle. He’d been a nickelback for the Tigers freshman football team as well, but he enjoyed the speed rush that came from hitting someone on the ice more then tackling someone, so he’d given up the gridiron. Now, though he was getting bored of it, and thinking more about riding Doug’s coattails to the Top Forty.
Next to Bill, Jack was stretching on the floor. If Bill was sort of an odd case, Jack took the cake. Charlie knew that Jack was into all his weird eastern stuff, but he also knew that Jack was playing hockey to make his parents happy. Or at least his mother, anyway. Jack had also been on the pee-wee team with Doug and Charlie, but he’d nearly abandoned the game in eighth grade for Kendo. Charlie had spent some time with Jack when he was learning the intial disciplines, and he’d convinced Jack to keep at it while still playing hockey. Charlie figured that if nothing else, it would help his stickwork, which had been somewhat of an issue when they were playing pee-wee. It had worked, and Jack had become as skilled with a goaltender’s stick as he was with the Kendo stick. Jack had also taught him how to swear in Japanese. He’d used this to his advantage on many occasions against referees who pissed him off. But now Jack was going to be going off to the west coast, and probably overseas after that.
Coach opened the door from his temporary office and walked into the center of the room, and everyone stopped what they were doing. Jack got up off the floor and sat back down on his stool, and Doug took off his headphones. Charlie assumed that Coach was going to give them a pep talk of some kind, and was more then a little surprised when he didn’t say anything at all. He just turned to Charlie and said “Come on up.”
The boys clapped as Charlie walked into the center of the room. He reddened a little. He was the captain after all, but he hadn’t planned a pep talk or anything like that. Behind him, Doug put his hands up, and everyone fell silent. Charlie looked at them all for a moment.
“Uh, I really don’t know what to say to you guys. I’ve been a Tiger for four years now, and I’ve been Captain for the last two, and they’ve been the best four years of my life.” He paused for a second, lost in the moment. This really was the end, wasn’t it? “Uh, some of you guys are still gonna be around next year, and a couple of you will still be here for another three. But for me, Bill, Jack, and Doug, this is the end of the line. I know that the Register doesn’t think we’re gonna win today, and that’s all fine and good. But I also know one thing.
“I know that this team, this year, is the best team that I’ve played with in the four years I’ve been a Tiger. No bullshit. And you young guys, you’re gonna hopefully be able to carry on without us next year. I know that the Joker’s ready to keep it going if nobody else is.” Doug reached over and ruffled Jake Chambers’s hair and got a poke with Jake’s stick for his trouble. Charlie laughed, then continued.
“I just want you guys to know, and you too, Coach, that I’ve loved every single minute of the four years that I’ve been a Holy Mother Tiger. And no matter where I end up in life, I’ll always carry these four years deep in my heart as some of the best moments of my life.” Charlie looked around at his boys.
“Now I want everyone to go out there knowing that no newspaper, no fan, no official, not even those Prep bastards on the other side of the ice can take away what we are. And what we are, boys, is champions. Even if we lose, we’re still the best damn hockey team in the state of Connecticut.” The locker room roared. “Everybody in.” They all crowded in around Charlie.
“Who are we?”
“HOLY MOTHER!”
“I said, WHO ARE WE?!?”
“CHAMPIONS!”
“That’s right! And what are we gonna do?”
“KICK PREPPIE ASS!” The entire team let out a war whoop and stormed out of the locker room, headed for the ice. Charlie watched them go, smiled, then started heading down the ramp after them.
