When you got closer, you began to see that the sparkle was a mirage, it dissipated like heat shimmers on the highway on a hot July day. But there was always something more on the horizon. Always another dream to chase. Until there wasn’t. At 40, in what surely had to be the final year of his hockey career, having played his whole life, he had long since entered the phase of his career where he was giving, and giving, and giving, and all hockey did was take. His face was a roadmap of all the hits he’d taken over the long years of enforcing an antiquated and brutal but somehow dignified code of honour. His back hurt most days and his knees hurt every day. Sometimes he had a ringing in his ears for no reason at all, and he knew that wasn’t good, but when you play in the league of never weres and never will bes, there’s no team doctor, and quite frankly, my dear, nobody gives a damn.
Despite all of this, and after all of this time, he still loved the game. And even though he had long since given up hope for himself of a life beyond the East Coast Hockey League, he was blessed to always play with a set of fresh recruits, with lots of hope to go around. He hoped for them, even though in his long experience, the ECHL was the last stop for NHL hopefuls before the game finally took everything it could from them, including their hope.
Tom Donovan, surely one of the reasons why Ryan had stayed in the game as long as he had, had paid his price early on, and had never stopped paying.
Ryan met Tom when he was 17, Tom only 16, but talented enough to earn a starting position for the Orillia Terriers, a Junior A organization with players ranging in age from 16-21. Ryan was one of very few local boys, living at home with his family, while many of the players on the team were billeted to live with local families who took in hockey players and acted as their surrogate families for as long as they were on the team. Ryan and Tom played on the same line, Tom supplying the talent and Ryan supplying the grit. The word is overused now, but there is no other to describe Tom in those days… he was a phenom. He had joined organized hockey later than most, having learned the game playing pickup hockey at a local outdoor rink. For this reason, he was not constricted by the ‘rules’ of how to play position, and his creativity was matched only by his ability to execute whatever crazy plan popped into his head. If the puck ended up on his stick, which it generally did, it almost always ended up in the opponent’s net.
Ryan’s role on the ice, and as it often happens, off the ice, was to protect Tom. Tom was a big kid, but he hadn’t fully grown into his arms and legs. He was fast, and he was strong, but he was puck focused and play focused and tended to not pay much attention to the grittier side of the game. He wasn’t watching for people looking to take his head off, because he didn’t really understand why anyone would want to. Take the puck, sure he could understand that, and quite frankly good luck to anyone who tried that, but he hadn’t understood that there were those whose talent had taken them as far as it was going to, and their role became to stop the talent in others, however they could.
Tom also hadn’t understood players like Alexandre Tremblay, players who might have ended up in prison if they hadn’t ended up with a hockey stick in their hands. There were people who played hockey because in hockey you were allowed to hurt people. In fact, people loved you for it. But even among this set, Alex Tremblay stood out. He loved to hurt people, but he was smart. And he was good. Talented enough to go all the way, which he eventually did, leaving in his wake a trail of broken and bloodied players who might have amounted to more if they hadn’t crossed his path. Ryan, who didn’t believe that a life without regret was possible (or even desirable), also didn’t believe that things happened for a reason. Sometimes, shit just happened, and if you were unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a person like Alex Tremblay, then shit was especially likely to happen. The same was true of Alex’s entire career, which had ended a couple of years ago. No one can play forever, and for players like Alex, this was especially true. No matter how high you rise, there is always a price to pay; the game will always take its due.
What a great passage. I may have been long but it was so well written that it was easy to get through. I love the way that you described your characters. They're all so rich and real even though this is the first time we're really getting to meet them. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI really feel a sense of dread for what I know is about to come-- which is impressive since I don't really know any of these people. I loved this, even though it made me sad. And as The Master of Sport Sociology, I approve of this message.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Katie - there is so much sadness in this passage, and dread for what is to come. Not only that, so much regret that I personally felt while reading this, that the players could feel so boxed in with their lives that they would keep taking the hits they were given and not see any other way.
ReplyDeleteI also really loved the idealism of Tom, who couldn't understand why other people would lash out in violence instead of just playing the game.
This passage gave me chills. So, so good.
First of all, never apologize for posting a long excerpt. If anything, you should just post everything you write.
ReplyDeleteSecond of all ... there isn't really a second of all. Mainly I just love how you create characters. They ring very true and you imbue them with multiple dimensions in the space of only a few sentences.