Sunday, November 21, 2004
6 and 7.
6.
At five minutes past ten A.M. on Saturday, February 11th, the Connecticut State Division One Hockey Final officially began with team introductions. The lower ring of the Civic Center was completely full, and a fair portion of the upper seats had been sold as well. The attendance would later be reported as nine thousand, one hundred and twelve, a record for the state finals, and nearly on the level of a good Whaler home game in those days.
Fairfield Prep skated out first. The Jesuits had only lost two games in the ‘88-89 season, one of which was to the Tigers in the early part of the season. They were riding a 12-game win streak into the final, second only to the Tigers for the season. Their fan section loudly cheered and waved around red towels as their team skated warmups.
Holy Mother came out second, and the Jesuit fans showered them with boos and abuse, but were quickly drowned out by the cheering Tiger fan section. Holy Mother was on a fifteen game win streak themselves, having only lost one game the whole year. That had been in December to West Haven High, when Charlie and Doug had both been out with stomach flu. The Tigers skated their warmups and headed to the bench. Charlie looked over and saw Kim and Gary, but not Kat. He shrugged, waved at them, and then headed out to center ice. As the national anthem played over the loudspeaker, he breathed slowly and deeply as Jack had taught him, pushing out the noise and distractions and zoning in on the only things that mattered.
The anthem ended, and the referee skated out to center ice. Charlie skated up to the center line. A hulking kid lined up across from him.
“Hello, Wilson. How’s your wrist?”
“Fine, Ferris. How’s the eye?” Charlie and Ed Wilson had tangled in the Jesuit/Tiger game back in January. Their encounter had started with a hard slash to Ed Wilson’s right wrist and had ended with Wilson attempting to punch Charlie’s ticket. Bill had gotten between them before Wilson had gotten off more then one punch, but Charlie came away with a nice shiner to show for it.
“Oh, fine. Ready to lose again?”
“I don’t think so, you pigfucker.”
The ref stepped between them. “I won’t have any of that stuff in my game, boys. Wilson, you watch your mouth. I expect a clean game from you both.”
Charlie laughed. “Well, you’ll have no problem from me. I’m not the cheap shot artist.”
“Cheap shot? Why you little...” The ref stepped in and pushed Wilson out of the circle.
“Get over there, Wilson. You! 6! Get over here.” He skated over, mothering Charlie under his breath, and lined up against Doug, who thought better of making any smart ass comments. Another Jesuit skater came over and stopped at the faceoff circle. Charlie didn’t have a history with this kid, so he kept his mouth shut. The ref turned and looked at him. “Look, Ferris, that’s what I’m talking about. You keep your mouth shut too and let’s have a clean game.”
“No problem, ref. Let’s go.” The ref blew his whistle. Charlie leaned in, and the crowd went silent for a moment, holding their collective breath. The ref dropped the puck and Charlie lunged forward, taking it off the stick of the Jesuit player. He skated down the ice and stopped at the blue line as Doug skated by him.
“Goddamnit, Doug, get back onside!”
Doug skated back as Charlie waited and held the puck. The Prep defense set up, trying to keep Charlie out of the offensive end and draw an offside call. He brushed by the defenseman and passed to Jake over in the right circle. Jake looked around, then lost the puck to a Jesuit who was bigger then him. They skated back down the ice and set up their own defense as the Jesuits came racing up ice. Jack looked straight on and watched the Jesuits pass the puck around the perimeter. Bill came over and skated around the goalmouth, waiting for the action.
WHACK! The first shot of the game came whistling in from about 30 feet, a slapper that bounced once in front of the goal. Jack swatted it away into the corner with his stick and Bill skated after it. He picked up speed as he approached the unlucky Jesuit skater who’d gone in to pick up the loose puck, and blasted him into the boards. The Jesuit didn’t go down, but unleashed a muffled “whoof” sound as he took the full impact of Bill’s hit. Bill passed the puck out towards Doug on the left point, but a Prep player deflected it towards his own player. The second Prep player wound up for a one-timer and whacked the puck back towards Jack. The puck sailed up and bounced off Jack’s helmet and into the stands. The ref blew his whistle and play stopped.
Charlie skated over to the bench with Doug. Their line was off for a minute or so, and they sat down on the bench together.
“Damn it, Doug. Keep your head in the game.”
“Don’t you worry about me, bro. Worry about Bill getting tossed. Did you see how hard he hit that kid?”
Charlie grimaced. Bill had laid it on a bit thick there. Luckily the ref wasn’t watching. He looked over at the seats. Kat had rejoined the others, and she blew him a kiss when he caught her eye. He smiled and turned back, just in time to see Jake narrowly miss scoring the first goal of the game. He and Doug got back up and waited for the whistle to go so they could go back in the game. The first period of the game was a back and forth affair, with neither team able to get into a groove. Charlie had three shots on goal, and another one that probably would have gone in except for a lucky deflection. Bill took another kid out cleanly before drawing a two minute roughing minor and a warning from the ref. And Jack was in some kind of zone, as he easily turned back eleven shots from the Jesuits. Between periods, Charlie was quiet in the locker room. No one dared go near him.
Charlie and Doug put the Tigers on the board early in the second period. The Jesuits had turned the puck over in the Tigers end as Charlie skated right through a two-man trap to steal the puck. He broke away down the ice, Doug following close behind. Once in the zone, Charlie rocketed a shot at the Jesuit goaltender that he’d have to cough up rather then smothering. He had, and Doug had skated up and casually flipped the puck over the stick of the Jesuit goaltender. The crowd went crazy, and the Tigers took a 1-0 lead. But the Jesuits came right back, taking advantage of a defensive lapse by Bill and smoking one past a screened Jack to tie the score.
“Fuck! Come on, Bill, stop screening me!” Jack slammed his stick on the ice as the ref took the puck out of the net and headed back to center ice. Jack would have had a shot at that one if Bill hadn’t been pushed right in front of him by a Jesuit player.
“Look, Yojimbo, I can’t help getting pushed.” But inside Bill was fuming at the fact that he’d let the other, smaller Jesuit player push him around so easily. He skated over to his position and waited for the drop. The ref dropped the puck, and the kid that had pushed him around came skating up ice with it. Bill came flying up towards him and blew into him, knocking him off his feet just as he passed the puck away. The kid dropped to the ice, and the linesman came skating up, blowing his whistle as he got in between Bill and the Jesuit.
“Number 5, five minute major, unsportsmanlike conduct!” The linesman skated over to the box.
“Oh, come on, ref! He took a dive!” Bill skated over and was about to continue to plead his case when Charlie skated over.
“Come on, ref. Five minutes?”
“Your skater deliberately hit the kid. I should be giving him a game misconduct and sending him to the showers. You of all people should know that the CIAC looks down on any of this sort of thing during the finals.” And indeed, Charlie did. In the ‘87 final, a West Haven player had crushed him into the railing of the bench with a vicious crosscheck that had sprung one of Charlie’s ribs. That kid had found himself escorted off the ice and out of the Blue Devil hockey program completely. Charlie had shaken off the injury and finished the game. The last thing he needed today though was for Bill to get tossed.
“Get in the box, you stupid bastard! What the hell are you thinking?!?” Charlie was livid. Now the Tigers would have to play five minutes shorthanded against a Jesuit team that was the best in the state on power play opportunities. He skated over to the circle as Bill took his seat in the box somewhat dejectedly. Two minutes later, Bill was skating over to the bench even more dejectedly as the Jesuits celebrated their second goal of the game. Charlie skated over to the bench and sat down. He didn’t even look at Bill.
7.
The Tigers filed into the locker room at the end of the second period silently. They sat on their stools, some wiping their heads with towels or drinking Gatorade. No one looked up or around. Charlie came in last and angrily stalked over to his locker. He ripped off his helmet and threw it down, then whirled around to face the room. No one looked at him as the sound of the helmet slamming down echoed in the room.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING OUT THERE?!? Huh? Where the hell did the team that won all those games this year go? I looked around this period and I found myself wondering that.”
He walked around the room and stopped in front of Bill. “Bill. I know you like to prove to everyone that you’re a brick wall on skates, but this is not the time for PERSONAL FUCKING VENDETTAS! If some little Jesuit prick pushes you around, I’m not gonna tell you to not push back, but for Christ’s sake, don’t draw any more stupid fucking penalties. We can’t afford another five on four.” Bill continued to idly pick tape off his stick, but didn’t look Charlie in the eye.
“Jack. I got nothing to pick on you for. You’re standing on your head out there. Keep it up.” He slapped Jack on the back as he walked over and picked up a bottle of Gatorade from a cooler on the floor. “Now we’ve only got twenty minutes left here to do something. Think about that. Twenty minutes doesn’t sound like much, but it can be an eternity for those bastards if we come out flying here. Doug.” He looked over at Doug, who idly sipped a bottle of water. “Heads up, brother. I’m gonna be looking for you out there, and you need to be in the game.” Doug nodded.
He walked back into the center of the room. All eyes in the room were now on him, and he knew it. “Now, I can’t go out there and win this game by myself. And before anybody says it, yes, I know that there are scouts here.” He looked around at them. They were all staring at him. No one dared look anywhere else.
“If you think that’s the only reason that I want to win this game, then you can feel free to ask Coach to hold you out of the third period. Then you can go fuck yourself.” He dropped the bottle of Gatorade on the floor. “I came here to do what the New Haven Register, the Bridgeport Post, and that pompous ass on WELI radio say I couldn’t do this year. I hope they weren’t right.
“Two goals in twenty minutes. We can do it. We’ve done it all fucking year. No reason to believe we can’t do it again today. But we’re not doing it so far. You guys are letting them push you around. You’re playing like a bunch of pee-wee players out there.
“Twenty more minutes and we seniors are done with our careers. It would be nice to be able to leave this arena with another piece of hardware for Brother Ben’s trophy case. All I’m asking is that you leave whatever distractions are bothering you in here for twenty minutes and give everything you have out there. I’m going to be.
“Twenty more minutes, and then we can go party our good little Catholic butts off in Bethany. I don’t know about anyone else here, but I’m certainly hoping to get laid tonight.” A few players laughed, and then the room quieted again. “All right, everybody in.” The players all got up and gathered around Charlie.
“This is it. When that horn goes off in twenty minutes, I want to know that you all gave me your hardest effort and that nothing was left on the bench. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now, when your kid asks you what kind of player you were, I want to know that you can say ‘I gave my all for the team.’ That’s all I ask.
“NOW LET’S GET OUT THERE AND SHOW THOSE FUCKING PREPPIE BASTARDS HOW WE DO THINGS IN WEST HAVEN!” The team roared and stormed back out to the ice again. Charlie picked up his helmet, and looked around the empty locker room for a minute. This really was it, wasn’t it?
Gary waited outside the locker room. His father was a season ticket holder for the Whale as well as a member of the Civic Center's board of directors, so Gary knew pretty much everyone who'd worked there for any length of time. As a result, he pretty much had the run of the place whenever he wanted. He’d listened as Charlie gave his pep talk, if it could be called such a thing, and then watched the team come out. He knew Charlie would still be in the room for another moment, so he poked his head through the door.
“Is it safe?” he called into the room.
“Yes, Gary, you can come in.” Charlie was re-lacing his skate as Gary stepped through the door. “I suspect you heard all that?”
Gary nodded. “I think everyone in Hartford County heard it.” He stood there and watched Charlie as he put on his helmet. “You okay?”
“I guess so. I just had one of those weird moments just now. I was thinking about my father. This was what he wanted, you know. The big game. The scouts. The attention.” They walked through the door together. “I just, you know, felt a little sad for the first time.”
“Look, man, don’t you worry about that. You’ve done all of this on your own. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about that bastard and what he did.” Gary stepped in front of Charlie and put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders. “You are the best Goddamned hockey player in this crummy little state. Hell, you’re the best player in New England. Don’t you forget that. Those Jesuits aren’t even on the same level as you. I believe in you, man. But you’ve got to believe in yourself.
“You’ve done a hell of a job of motivating those guys to win. Now I’m gonna say the same thing to you. All you need to do is go out there and win. Forget about your old man. Forget about Kat and Colette and all of that. Just go out there and get that trophy. Now, I just talked to Audra. Everything’s ready. A few people who were dumb enough to show up already have been put to work in the house prepping for the party.”
“Good. You didn’t think I was too hard on them, was I?”
Gary laughed. “Too hard? That speech would have made Patton wince.” He slapped Charlie on the back. “Look, bro. Just go out there and do what you came here to do. Don’t worry about stepping on any toes. When the game’s over, and you’re raising that trophy over your head, no one’s gonna care if you bitched ‘em out beforehand.” They reached the edge of the ice, and Gary smiled at Charlie. “Go out there and give ‘em hell. That’s an order, soldier.” He climbed up into the stands as Charlie skated out onto the ice, then stood and watched for a second as he skated over towards the circle. Then he headed back over to his seat, where Kim was talking to Doug over the glass separating the bench from the stands. He gave Doug a thumbs up and sat down as Kim came back to their seats.
“Where’s Kat gotten off to now?”
“Oh, you know how she is, Gary. She’s not really interested in all of this unless she’s the center of attention. Not much for the cheerleaders to do at a hockey game.” Kim sipped at a hot chocolate. “So what’s up with the purple-haired wonder?”
Gary grinned. “Oh, you know Audra. She’s having a blast getting this little shindig together. I told her that we’d be home in about two hours. She did tell me to be careful though. Apparently the snow’s starting to accumulate a bit.”
“Oh. I hope that doesn’t keep anyone away.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Free booze, no parents, run of the house? I wouldn’t expect too many no-shows.” Gary sat back in his seat and waited for the whistle.
At five minutes past ten A.M. on Saturday, February 11th, the Connecticut State Division One Hockey Final officially began with team introductions. The lower ring of the Civic Center was completely full, and a fair portion of the upper seats had been sold as well. The attendance would later be reported as nine thousand, one hundred and twelve, a record for the state finals, and nearly on the level of a good Whaler home game in those days.
Fairfield Prep skated out first. The Jesuits had only lost two games in the ‘88-89 season, one of which was to the Tigers in the early part of the season. They were riding a 12-game win streak into the final, second only to the Tigers for the season. Their fan section loudly cheered and waved around red towels as their team skated warmups.
Holy Mother came out second, and the Jesuit fans showered them with boos and abuse, but were quickly drowned out by the cheering Tiger fan section. Holy Mother was on a fifteen game win streak themselves, having only lost one game the whole year. That had been in December to West Haven High, when Charlie and Doug had both been out with stomach flu. The Tigers skated their warmups and headed to the bench. Charlie looked over and saw Kim and Gary, but not Kat. He shrugged, waved at them, and then headed out to center ice. As the national anthem played over the loudspeaker, he breathed slowly and deeply as Jack had taught him, pushing out the noise and distractions and zoning in on the only things that mattered.
The anthem ended, and the referee skated out to center ice. Charlie skated up to the center line. A hulking kid lined up across from him.
“Hello, Wilson. How’s your wrist?”
“Fine, Ferris. How’s the eye?” Charlie and Ed Wilson had tangled in the Jesuit/Tiger game back in January. Their encounter had started with a hard slash to Ed Wilson’s right wrist and had ended with Wilson attempting to punch Charlie’s ticket. Bill had gotten between them before Wilson had gotten off more then one punch, but Charlie came away with a nice shiner to show for it.
“Oh, fine. Ready to lose again?”
“I don’t think so, you pigfucker.”
The ref stepped between them. “I won’t have any of that stuff in my game, boys. Wilson, you watch your mouth. I expect a clean game from you both.”
Charlie laughed. “Well, you’ll have no problem from me. I’m not the cheap shot artist.”
“Cheap shot? Why you little...” The ref stepped in and pushed Wilson out of the circle.
“Get over there, Wilson. You! 6! Get over here.” He skated over, mothering Charlie under his breath, and lined up against Doug, who thought better of making any smart ass comments. Another Jesuit skater came over and stopped at the faceoff circle. Charlie didn’t have a history with this kid, so he kept his mouth shut. The ref turned and looked at him. “Look, Ferris, that’s what I’m talking about. You keep your mouth shut too and let’s have a clean game.”
“No problem, ref. Let’s go.” The ref blew his whistle. Charlie leaned in, and the crowd went silent for a moment, holding their collective breath. The ref dropped the puck and Charlie lunged forward, taking it off the stick of the Jesuit player. He skated down the ice and stopped at the blue line as Doug skated by him.
“Goddamnit, Doug, get back onside!”
Doug skated back as Charlie waited and held the puck. The Prep defense set up, trying to keep Charlie out of the offensive end and draw an offside call. He brushed by the defenseman and passed to Jake over in the right circle. Jake looked around, then lost the puck to a Jesuit who was bigger then him. They skated back down the ice and set up their own defense as the Jesuits came racing up ice. Jack looked straight on and watched the Jesuits pass the puck around the perimeter. Bill came over and skated around the goalmouth, waiting for the action.
WHACK! The first shot of the game came whistling in from about 30 feet, a slapper that bounced once in front of the goal. Jack swatted it away into the corner with his stick and Bill skated after it. He picked up speed as he approached the unlucky Jesuit skater who’d gone in to pick up the loose puck, and blasted him into the boards. The Jesuit didn’t go down, but unleashed a muffled “whoof” sound as he took the full impact of Bill’s hit. Bill passed the puck out towards Doug on the left point, but a Prep player deflected it towards his own player. The second Prep player wound up for a one-timer and whacked the puck back towards Jack. The puck sailed up and bounced off Jack’s helmet and into the stands. The ref blew his whistle and play stopped.
Charlie skated over to the bench with Doug. Their line was off for a minute or so, and they sat down on the bench together.
“Damn it, Doug. Keep your head in the game.”
“Don’t you worry about me, bro. Worry about Bill getting tossed. Did you see how hard he hit that kid?”
Charlie grimaced. Bill had laid it on a bit thick there. Luckily the ref wasn’t watching. He looked over at the seats. Kat had rejoined the others, and she blew him a kiss when he caught her eye. He smiled and turned back, just in time to see Jake narrowly miss scoring the first goal of the game. He and Doug got back up and waited for the whistle to go so they could go back in the game. The first period of the game was a back and forth affair, with neither team able to get into a groove. Charlie had three shots on goal, and another one that probably would have gone in except for a lucky deflection. Bill took another kid out cleanly before drawing a two minute roughing minor and a warning from the ref. And Jack was in some kind of zone, as he easily turned back eleven shots from the Jesuits. Between periods, Charlie was quiet in the locker room. No one dared go near him.
Charlie and Doug put the Tigers on the board early in the second period. The Jesuits had turned the puck over in the Tigers end as Charlie skated right through a two-man trap to steal the puck. He broke away down the ice, Doug following close behind. Once in the zone, Charlie rocketed a shot at the Jesuit goaltender that he’d have to cough up rather then smothering. He had, and Doug had skated up and casually flipped the puck over the stick of the Jesuit goaltender. The crowd went crazy, and the Tigers took a 1-0 lead. But the Jesuits came right back, taking advantage of a defensive lapse by Bill and smoking one past a screened Jack to tie the score.
“Fuck! Come on, Bill, stop screening me!” Jack slammed his stick on the ice as the ref took the puck out of the net and headed back to center ice. Jack would have had a shot at that one if Bill hadn’t been pushed right in front of him by a Jesuit player.
“Look, Yojimbo, I can’t help getting pushed.” But inside Bill was fuming at the fact that he’d let the other, smaller Jesuit player push him around so easily. He skated over to his position and waited for the drop. The ref dropped the puck, and the kid that had pushed him around came skating up ice with it. Bill came flying up towards him and blew into him, knocking him off his feet just as he passed the puck away. The kid dropped to the ice, and the linesman came skating up, blowing his whistle as he got in between Bill and the Jesuit.
“Number 5, five minute major, unsportsmanlike conduct!” The linesman skated over to the box.
“Oh, come on, ref! He took a dive!” Bill skated over and was about to continue to plead his case when Charlie skated over.
“Come on, ref. Five minutes?”
“Your skater deliberately hit the kid. I should be giving him a game misconduct and sending him to the showers. You of all people should know that the CIAC looks down on any of this sort of thing during the finals.” And indeed, Charlie did. In the ‘87 final, a West Haven player had crushed him into the railing of the bench with a vicious crosscheck that had sprung one of Charlie’s ribs. That kid had found himself escorted off the ice and out of the Blue Devil hockey program completely. Charlie had shaken off the injury and finished the game. The last thing he needed today though was for Bill to get tossed.
“Get in the box, you stupid bastard! What the hell are you thinking?!?” Charlie was livid. Now the Tigers would have to play five minutes shorthanded against a Jesuit team that was the best in the state on power play opportunities. He skated over to the circle as Bill took his seat in the box somewhat dejectedly. Two minutes later, Bill was skating over to the bench even more dejectedly as the Jesuits celebrated their second goal of the game. Charlie skated over to the bench and sat down. He didn’t even look at Bill.
7.
The Tigers filed into the locker room at the end of the second period silently. They sat on their stools, some wiping their heads with towels or drinking Gatorade. No one looked up or around. Charlie came in last and angrily stalked over to his locker. He ripped off his helmet and threw it down, then whirled around to face the room. No one looked at him as the sound of the helmet slamming down echoed in the room.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING OUT THERE?!? Huh? Where the hell did the team that won all those games this year go? I looked around this period and I found myself wondering that.”
He walked around the room and stopped in front of Bill. “Bill. I know you like to prove to everyone that you’re a brick wall on skates, but this is not the time for PERSONAL FUCKING VENDETTAS! If some little Jesuit prick pushes you around, I’m not gonna tell you to not push back, but for Christ’s sake, don’t draw any more stupid fucking penalties. We can’t afford another five on four.” Bill continued to idly pick tape off his stick, but didn’t look Charlie in the eye.
“Jack. I got nothing to pick on you for. You’re standing on your head out there. Keep it up.” He slapped Jack on the back as he walked over and picked up a bottle of Gatorade from a cooler on the floor. “Now we’ve only got twenty minutes left here to do something. Think about that. Twenty minutes doesn’t sound like much, but it can be an eternity for those bastards if we come out flying here. Doug.” He looked over at Doug, who idly sipped a bottle of water. “Heads up, brother. I’m gonna be looking for you out there, and you need to be in the game.” Doug nodded.
He walked back into the center of the room. All eyes in the room were now on him, and he knew it. “Now, I can’t go out there and win this game by myself. And before anybody says it, yes, I know that there are scouts here.” He looked around at them. They were all staring at him. No one dared look anywhere else.
“If you think that’s the only reason that I want to win this game, then you can feel free to ask Coach to hold you out of the third period. Then you can go fuck yourself.” He dropped the bottle of Gatorade on the floor. “I came here to do what the New Haven Register, the Bridgeport Post, and that pompous ass on WELI radio say I couldn’t do this year. I hope they weren’t right.
“Two goals in twenty minutes. We can do it. We’ve done it all fucking year. No reason to believe we can’t do it again today. But we’re not doing it so far. You guys are letting them push you around. You’re playing like a bunch of pee-wee players out there.
“Twenty more minutes and we seniors are done with our careers. It would be nice to be able to leave this arena with another piece of hardware for Brother Ben’s trophy case. All I’m asking is that you leave whatever distractions are bothering you in here for twenty minutes and give everything you have out there. I’m going to be.
“Twenty more minutes, and then we can go party our good little Catholic butts off in Bethany. I don’t know about anyone else here, but I’m certainly hoping to get laid tonight.” A few players laughed, and then the room quieted again. “All right, everybody in.” The players all got up and gathered around Charlie.
“This is it. When that horn goes off in twenty minutes, I want to know that you all gave me your hardest effort and that nothing was left on the bench. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now, when your kid asks you what kind of player you were, I want to know that you can say ‘I gave my all for the team.’ That’s all I ask.
“NOW LET’S GET OUT THERE AND SHOW THOSE FUCKING PREPPIE BASTARDS HOW WE DO THINGS IN WEST HAVEN!” The team roared and stormed back out to the ice again. Charlie picked up his helmet, and looked around the empty locker room for a minute. This really was it, wasn’t it?
Gary waited outside the locker room. His father was a season ticket holder for the Whale as well as a member of the Civic Center's board of directors, so Gary knew pretty much everyone who'd worked there for any length of time. As a result, he pretty much had the run of the place whenever he wanted. He’d listened as Charlie gave his pep talk, if it could be called such a thing, and then watched the team come out. He knew Charlie would still be in the room for another moment, so he poked his head through the door.
“Is it safe?” he called into the room.
“Yes, Gary, you can come in.” Charlie was re-lacing his skate as Gary stepped through the door. “I suspect you heard all that?”
Gary nodded. “I think everyone in Hartford County heard it.” He stood there and watched Charlie as he put on his helmet. “You okay?”
“I guess so. I just had one of those weird moments just now. I was thinking about my father. This was what he wanted, you know. The big game. The scouts. The attention.” They walked through the door together. “I just, you know, felt a little sad for the first time.”
“Look, man, don’t you worry about that. You’ve done all of this on your own. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about that bastard and what he did.” Gary stepped in front of Charlie and put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders. “You are the best Goddamned hockey player in this crummy little state. Hell, you’re the best player in New England. Don’t you forget that. Those Jesuits aren’t even on the same level as you. I believe in you, man. But you’ve got to believe in yourself.
“You’ve done a hell of a job of motivating those guys to win. Now I’m gonna say the same thing to you. All you need to do is go out there and win. Forget about your old man. Forget about Kat and Colette and all of that. Just go out there and get that trophy. Now, I just talked to Audra. Everything’s ready. A few people who were dumb enough to show up already have been put to work in the house prepping for the party.”
“Good. You didn’t think I was too hard on them, was I?”
Gary laughed. “Too hard? That speech would have made Patton wince.” He slapped Charlie on the back. “Look, bro. Just go out there and do what you came here to do. Don’t worry about stepping on any toes. When the game’s over, and you’re raising that trophy over your head, no one’s gonna care if you bitched ‘em out beforehand.” They reached the edge of the ice, and Gary smiled at Charlie. “Go out there and give ‘em hell. That’s an order, soldier.” He climbed up into the stands as Charlie skated out onto the ice, then stood and watched for a second as he skated over towards the circle. Then he headed back over to his seat, where Kim was talking to Doug over the glass separating the bench from the stands. He gave Doug a thumbs up and sat down as Kim came back to their seats.
“Where’s Kat gotten off to now?”
“Oh, you know how she is, Gary. She’s not really interested in all of this unless she’s the center of attention. Not much for the cheerleaders to do at a hockey game.” Kim sipped at a hot chocolate. “So what’s up with the purple-haired wonder?”
Gary grinned. “Oh, you know Audra. She’s having a blast getting this little shindig together. I told her that we’d be home in about two hours. She did tell me to be careful though. Apparently the snow’s starting to accumulate a bit.”
“Oh. I hope that doesn’t keep anyone away.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Free booze, no parents, run of the house? I wouldn’t expect too many no-shows.” Gary sat back in his seat and waited for the whistle.
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.
