Ch. 5

How come I end up where I started?
How come I end up where I went wrong?
I won't take my eyes off the ball again
First you reel me out and then you cut the string

You used to be alright
What happened?
Did the cat get your tongue?
Did your string come undone?

One by one
One by one
It comes to us all
It's as soft as your pillow

You used to be alright
What happened
Et cetera, et cetera
Fads for whatever
Fifteen steps
Then a sheer drop

Radiohead – 15 Step

Ch. 5

“So you are from where?” I asked, practically having to yell, despite the fact that she was sitting squeezed up against me.

“London, Ontario,” she smiled back at me.  “I go to school here in Toronto,” she said, taking another sip of her Martini.

“That’s cool,” I said, not really interested in where the hell she was from but more interested in the fact that her low-cut shirt was not leaving a damn thing to the imagination.  I was just going to ask her how old she was when I felt her hot lips at my ear, breathing heavily into it.

“I’d ask you back to my place, but I don’t think a dorm is the best place to do what I want to do to you,” she purred.

I was just ready to get out this place, get her in my bed and get her out of it as soon as possible, so I just nodded and began digging in my pocket to so that I could pay my half of the tab.  “Bozak, um, is this enough?” I asked him as he was wrapped up in his own dark-haired minx that had a striking familiarity of Burke’s daughter.

“Yeah, if not I’ll settle up with you later,” he winked.  Rumor in the locker-room was that him and Abby had broken up, but he didn’t seem terribly put out over the ordeal and there didn’t seem to be any abnormal tension between him and Burke, so I figured it was amicable.

“Tracy?” I asked, turning to my newest piece of candy for the night.

“It’s Trudy,” she said with a sly smile, not even bothered by the fact that I called her by the wrong name.   Man, these chicks have no respect for themselves, do they?

“Uh, yeah, Trudy…your chariot waits,” I motioned towards the door and waited for her to stand-up and follow me out the door.  I don’t even know how to explain how it felt knowing that the woman you were about to go home and fuck the shit out of meant absolutely nothing except for the fact that you didn’t have to feel like a loser jerking off in your hand.  However, each time I did it with some chick that only wanted me because I was a hockey player, I could feel it degrading me just a little piece at a time.  It never seemed to bother me before, but ever since the conversation with Dawn and then the one with my mom I find myself second guessing my decisions.  Is this why my game isn’t up to par? Have I become too soft?  To keep myself from worrying about it, I kept taking the women home and by morning kicking them out of my apartment.  It was a habit I knew I needed to kick, but I was a man, making me basically unable to say no to a wet pussy.

“Steeger! Big Buff!” I heard Kaner calling down the familiar hallway.  My stomach had been churning since I had arrived at O’Hare and my nerves increasingly became worse as I walked through the player’s entrance of the United Center.  All the memories of playing soccer or other silly games in the corridor flooded my senses and made me realize how homesick I had been for this place.

“Hey, Kaner!” I chirped back at my best friend.  I was glad that Buff was with me, so I didn’t have to be the only Stanley Cup outcast standing on the ice for the ring ceremony.  I was actually surprised that more of the guys didn’t show up, but a bunch of them had games with their new teams and I think the others were still a little bitter about the abrupt break-up.

“Ready to get our bling tonight, boys?” he said in his wanna-be-black voice that came across all too white because, let’s face, Kaner was white trash.  Of course I mean that in the most loving way possible.  The kid was definitely one of my closest friends on the team, along with Byfuglien.  We had been the “Bad Boys” on the team, often finding ourselves in more trouble than anyone could ever imagine.  Needless to say, they were two guys I was in constant contact with ever since the trade.  I still heard things from Taser, Burish and Sharpie, but there was at least text messages passed between us once a day.

“I’m thinking we’ll need to go out and hit up some of the old haunts with the bling,” I laughed as hugged Kaner.

“So how’s the big TO, Steeger?” Sharpie yelled out from behind Kaner.  “Finding that Ontario has a lot more to offer than Alberta?”

“I don’t know, still hard to say, I haven’t tasted enough of the flavors yet,” I laughed as we bumped fists.

The chemistry I had with the guys on this team eclipsed any of the chemistry I was building up in Toronto.  The guys here in Chicago were my best friends.  Hell, we went to battle together for a couple years to climb the top of the mountain.  Sure, you had to learn to crawl before you could walk, but I wasn’t quite sure if I’d ever reach that with the guys in Toronto.  I was already making some good friends, but they weren’t these guys.

I had to fight back tears as we stood out on the ice with the team to receive our rings.  Even though I was from Canada, it still gave me chills to hear the National Anthem being sung at the UC and then to hear the crowd cheering through the whole thing…well, it was something I’ll never be able to express.  Stan gave me my ring, shook my hand and once again gave me a genuine ‘thank you’ for being on the team last year and helping to bring the Cup to Chicago.

After the game I partied with the guys, reliving the old times.  However the tight knot in my stomach told me it’d never be the same.  The next morning I said goodbye to Buff and we boarded separate planes that would take us back to our new lives in our new cities.

“Phil Kessel is Mr. Irrelevant at the All-Star Game.  Proof that the Maple Leafs have completely fallen from grace?”

“Oh good grief!” Bozie huffed as we walked by just another sports headline.  “I swear the airport workers make sure every newspaper in the airport is turned to the sports page when we are heading out or coming home!”

Tyler had a good point.  We were constantly being scrutinized by the media and it seemed 10 times worse than in Chicago.   Probably because we weren’t the only team in Chicago that people actually cared about.  Hockey was the #1 sport in Toronto and the rest of Canada for that matter which sometimes made playing in this town feel like you were living in a fish bowl.  I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like in Montreal.

“This is only going to get worse as the trade-deadline approaches,” Boyce added.

“Yeah,” I nodded my head in agreement, pushing back the nerves I had begun to feel as soon as I heard my name being thrown around.  Even though things weren’t going overly awesome, I was enjoying playing in Toronto and had made some good friends already.  Of course, I still say it’s because of my car that people want to hang with me, but I’d rather think it’s because of my fun personality.

“It’s been great to work with you this season,” Beauchemin said steadily as he shook my hand just moments after we were told by Coach Wilson that he would be headed to Anaheim and Lupul would be arriving in time for the game against the Devils on Thursday.

“Same here man, good luck,” I said sincerely.

“You too.”

I rushed home that night and called home.

“Kris?” my mom answered, sounding slightly surprised that I was calling her.  We always talked on Sundays, so she automatically picked up that something was wrong.

“Hey Mom,” I said, smiling into the phone.  Her voice always calmed me when I was nervous about something.

“What’s wrong, hunnie?”

I sighed into the phone as I sank back into the oversized couch in my lonely apartment.  “I think I might be getting traded…”

“What makes your think that?” she asked sincerely.

“I don’t know, the rumors are really flying around and I just have that feeling, ya know?”

“You are all people should be listening to the rumors,” she scoffed.

“Okay, so maybe it’s more of the feeling I have that is making me worried…”

“I just talked to Mitch who said they traded Beachemin for Lupul?”

“Yeah, he is right.”

“So do you think Mr. Burke is planning on moving a lot of pieces?”

I nodded into the phone first before realizing that she couldn’t see me.  “Yeah, he did last trade deadline and we aren’t in a much better position this season,” I confirmed worriedly.

“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this feeling or felt the rumors, so just keep you nose to the grind and keep playing hard.  I know this hasn’t been the season you were hoping for hunnie…”

“Thanks Mom.”

“You feeling a little better now?” she asked, her smile shining through the phone and bringing her image to the forefront of my mind.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Good.”

“Love you Mom.”

“Love you too, Kris.”

Monday February 14^th, on Valentine’s Day I was traded to the Philadelphia Flyers.