The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  Ken skated back toward centre ice to receive the final group.

  The first five or six players were strangers, but the seventh guy in was Alex Bucco, or Bucs, as his old teammates sometimes called him. He stepped onto the ice and the player right behind him was Eddie Mark, the Little Pest. Alex and Eddie spun around the ice together and everyone could instantly see they were hockey players, or at least had been at some point. Alex raised his stick to acknowledge his coach as he skated by.

  Then Ken heard someone yell out:

  “Move over, baby! Let’s go!”

  Isaac Banion grinned and sped by Ken. He was skating without a helmet, letting his long hair flow in the breeze. Taking to the ice behind him, albeit much more slowly, was Curtis “Garbage Goal” Lewis.

  “Good to see you, Coach,” Curtis said as he skated by.

  “Nice to see you, Curtis,” Ken smiled as he raised his whistle. He gave it two short, loud bursts.

  “Centre ice. On me!” he called out.

  Alex, Eddie, Isaac and Curtis all skated over together. Isaac glanced over at the arena doors.

  “Oh yeah, baby,” he said.

  On the other side of the glass with an equipment bag strapped to his body and a few hockey sticks in his hands was Mike Hill, the Big Chief. A volunteer directed him toward the changeroom and he hustled over.

  “What’s up, boys?” he called out. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Corey stood up in the stands and looked on. Now we’re talking, he thought.

  42.

  Near the Eaton Centre in downtown Toronto, there were numerous Chinese restaurants along Dundas Street all offering up delicious and inexpensive lunch specials. Dave Chambers called Corey and asked to have a lunch meeting in one of them. Chambers sounded cheerful on the phone, but Corey sensed something else was coming. He left his office and walked up Bay Street and across Dundas to the restaurant Chambers had selected. Corey arrived first and sat at a table facing the door. He asked a server for some Chinese tea and waited.

  Nearly half an hour later, Chambers burst through the door and spotted Corey. He sat down and quickly opened a menu.

  “Did you order?” Chambers asked as he signalled for a server.

  “Not yet,” Corey answered.

  Corey suddenly felt rushed and picked the first thing on the menu that he thought he would like. After they ordered, Chambers leaned across the table and kept his voice low.

  “Okay, now do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  Corey shook his head and looked confused. “What?”

  “Oh, come on, Corey,” Chambers snarled. “Don’t jerk me off.”

  “Okay…” Corey responded calmly. “You referring to The Tournament?”

  “You referring to The Tournament?” Chambers repeated in a mocking tone. “Of course, I’m talking about this bullshit tournament.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I’d like to know why you think it’s okay to keep pissing my money away.”

  Chambers’ voice was getting louder and even in the noisy restaurant a few people looked over, wondering if there was going to be a fight.

  “Renovations, painting,” Chambers fumed, “a digital scoreboard, airline reservations, fucking mould removal?”

  “The city’s reimbursing us for that,” Corey pointed out.

  “Don’t be a smartass, Corey, alright? And what’s the latest now? Gym memberships?”

  “Helen got a great deal with an old gym, which is cheaper than actually creating a gym for them,” Corey reasoned. “They have to train and work out, Dave. It’s a hockey tournament, not a Scrabble competition.”

  “Airline reservations?”

  “Fine. Would you like me to look at booking a bus instead? Some of these cities are far.”

  “Yes, I want you to fucking look at a bus instead,” Chambers snapped. “These are just a bunch of losers. It’s easy when it’s not your money, isn’t it? And by the way, where is your money? You said you’d be kicking in your own cash.”

  “And how do you know I haven’t?”

  “Because I know you and I know you haven’t.”

  The waiter arrived with two steaming dishes. Corey looked down at his and breathed it in. It smelled amazing.

  Chambers grabbed a fork and stabbed at his food.

  “Look, Corey,” he said more evenly. “You called in a favour and that’s fine, but I’m not an endless line of credit for your stupid ideas.”

  “First, this is not a stupid idea,” Corey replied. “Second, the money you’ve given me so far, most of which you’re going to write off like you said, is nowhere close to what you’re paying for that villa, which is what we agreed to.”

  Chambers dropped his fork on the plate, and it made a clanging sound. “Jesus, Corey. That was a joke.”

  Corey could not afford to have the plug pulled on the Bank of Dave just yet. Truthfully, he never had any intention of kicking in his own cash or asking anyone else to either.

  He was ready to play hardball now.

  “Okay, so me driving eight hours in the middle of the night to secretly bail you out of jail…was that a joke too?” he asked while taking a bite of his food.

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “You owe me, Dave. Or I can just give your wife a call. I’ll tell her how I sprung you that night and handled the court plea so she wouldn’t find out you got busted in a sleazy motel with hookers.”

  Boom. Why hold back now?

  Chambers glared at him.

  “Maybe after she gets tested for sexually transmitted diseases she’ll go live in that new villa while she cleans you out in a divorce,” Corey finished before taking another bite. So delicious.

  “You suckered me into this,” Chambers said.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “How much more?”

  “Not much,” Corey answered. “Some equipment. Nominal cash for the players consistent with what players on the other teams are going to get. I’m not hiding anything. I’ll show you all the paperwork. Helen’s on top of it.”

  They sat quietly and ate their food for the next several minutes. Corey felt his body temperature return to normal.

  Chambers went into his pocket and threw a few bills on the table before getting up to leave.

  “Put a lid on it soon, Corey,” he said. “You’re not a saint either, let’s be honest. Don’t forget that I’m connected.”

  “No worries,” Corey smiled. “We’re old buddies, right?”

  43.

  Ken informed Helen and Corey, and even Angus, that he had quickly finalized the roster. Time to get down to the real work. They had two weeks to prepare for the round robin, and a schedule was coming out shortly from The Tournament’s central committee in New York.

  There were fifteen teams and even though the round robin was fifteen games long, the schedule was quirky and some teams played each other multiple times. The three regular periods would be twenty minutes each. There would be two points for a win and one point for a tie going into overtime. However, there would not be a shootout or guaranteed winner. Overtime would be timed for five minutes and a game could end in a tie like the good old days.

  Following the round robin, the top twelve squads would compete in the “playoffs” – best-of-seven series, a maximum of three rounds for the two teams that went all the way to the finals. Seeding would be based on points – 1st seed would play 12th, 2nd would play 11th and so on.

  Angus set up a room in the Arena Gardens where Ken could meet with his players to discuss strategy and review game film. A portable whiteboard had been wheeled in there as well as twenty chairs.

  The first team meeting was about to start. The players were all in the room waiting for their coach. On the way there, Ken swung by Helen’s office.

  “Did Corey mention anything to you about our goalie situation?” Ken asked her.

  “Matt the Bat?” Helen asked.

  “Matt the Cat,” Ken smiled.

&nb
sp; “Yes,” she laughed. “He said not to worry about it.”

  “Can you please tell him I’m worried about it?”

  “I will.”

  Ken then proceeded to the meeting room holding a large file folder. His plan was to carry eleven forwards, six defencemen and two goalies for a total of nineteen players, and currently there were eighteen in the room. He also had Alex Bucco, who could transition between playing defence and forward depending on what Ken felt the team needed.

  “Gentlemen,” Ken greeted the group as he entered.

  Ken stood at the front and looked at the guys. Alex, Eddie and Mike sat in the first row of chairs. Isaac was in a back corner with his sunglasses on and was casually playing his guitar with his feet up. The other ten or so players sat around the room and waited. Just as Ken realized that Curtis was missing, Curtis ran in out of breath.

  “Sorry I’m late, Coach,” he panted. “Had to do something for my mom.”

  “Ha!” Isaac laughed while strumming the guitar. “Your mom…”

  Curtis turned to him. “You got a problem with that, Isaac?”

  “No, my man.”

  “Alright, let’s get started,” Ken said. “Congratulations on making the team. I don’t think any of us know exactly how this tournament is going to go, but we’re here to play hockey and that’s what we’re going to prepare for.”

  The players nodded and kept listening.

  “We have just two weeks before our first game,” he continued. “We’ve got a lot of work to do and we’re going to start with conditioning.”

  Ken opened the file folder and took out a stack of sheets that contained intense diet and exercise regimens.

  “And we’re going to start right now.”

  44.

  Bringing a woman home was a big deal for 22-year-old Alex, but it was an even bigger deal for his mother and Alex knew it. When it came to girls, Alex’s mother had tried to drill a few things into his impressionable brain. One was to always treat women with respect. Another was that a real relationship had to be a partnership, not a list of expectations from one person and a series of concessions from the other.

  She also taught him to be useful and showed him how to do laundry and how to clean properly and how to cook. She informed him that the days of women wearing aprons and cheerfully greeting their husbands at the door were over. As Alex matured, he observed that much of what his mother was trying to instil in him was in direct contrast to her own experience with his father.

  Finally, Alex’s mother repeated over and over that the only time Alex should ever think about introducing her to a woman was if he intended to marry that woman. Their home would not become a flophouse for whichever girl Alex had a crush on or was fooling around with.

  So, when Alex finally decided to introduce Diana Cross to his mother after dating her for nearly five years, it was a huge deal. During the first year and a half or so after meeting Diana at grief counselling, she and Alex became close but were not dating. Alex even went out on a few dates shortly after starting university, but he always had Diana on his mind. It was not long before he became bothered by the thought of her being with someone else.

  One night at a house party when he was twenty years old, Alex had too much to drink and slept with Corey Peters’ future wife. Helen’s parents worked around the clock and were not home, so she convinced Alex that he could stay the night there. They had both been drinking quite a bit and Helen was gorgeous. Alex gave in and even though there was nothing bad he could say about the experience, he left her house the next morning feeling as though he had done something wrong. All he could think about was Diana. Ironically, it was after being with another woman that Alex realized he really had no interest in being with another woman.

  He felt certain that Diana had feelings for him as well. This emboldened him and he decided to make his pursuit of her fun. While she was preparing to apply to medical school, Alex used to wait outside her classes with flowers. Diana had a part-time job working at a clothing store in a local mall. Alex showed up and read a cheesy poem out loud in front of her co-workers and customers. Everyone smiled and thought it was cute, even though Diana was shy and initially mortified by this attention. Alex was on a campaign to win her over. The mere sight of her energized him.

  As for Diana, after her sister Tamara died, she became very anxious, and Alex helped bring her back to Earth. When she was with him, she laughed and smiled. Alex once heard that a man should not talk about his mother with a woman he was pursuing, but he did not care. Diana listened to him explain how brave his mother was and how they endured hell together and were surviving. Diana also learned that Alex’s father had been murdered in cold blood, but Alex never discussed it in any detail.

  After threatening to show up at her work again with a mandolin, or perhaps a flute, Diana finally agreed to a proper date. They went out for dinner in posh Yorkville, located in mid-town Toronto. Restaurants there were expensive, but Alex really wanted to take Diana somewhere nice. He had saved money in anticipation of a night like this.

  For the date to go off without a hitch and to keep it a secret from Diana’s parents, they had a three-hour window to work with, and this included picking Diana up and dropping her off somewhere near, but not exactly in front of, her house. Alex didn’t have a car, so this also meant walking, which was fine with Diana.

  They enjoyed a beautiful evening together in which Alex overpaid for a fancy meal that was short on portions and left them both feeling hungry afterward. As they left the restaurant, Alex jokingly asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat somewhere else. They laughed and held hands as they walked through Yorkville. He told her that she was beautiful so many times she suggested that he did not need to say it anymore.

  When it was time to say goodnight, Alex politely asked if he could kiss her, and Diana said “yes.” After an awkward moment, Alex pecked her on the cheek, which Diana loved more than if he had tried to kiss her on the lips. Such a gentleman.

  Years later, the day had finally arrived for Alex to introduce Diana to his mother, but instead of bringing her home, Alex thought it might be less stressful if they got together somewhere public and put a time limit on it. They met at a busy restaurant and Diana had a class in less than two hours, so that would be the extent of how long it could go.

  Alex and his mother arrived first. They sat at a table and ordered a salad that looked pitiful when it arrived. The lettuce had not been cut up properly and the pieces were the size of tennis balls. Not much dressing had been put on it either. Alex became more nervous as his mother sent the salad back with the waiter, annoyed at the thought of paying for food that was nowhere close to what she could prepare in her own kitchen.

  When Diana got there, she walked over and gave Alex a hug. She smiled graciously as she shook his mother’s hand and said it was wonderful to meet her. Then she quickly excused herself to use the bathroom.

  Alex’s mother leaned in close to him and whispered: “She’s black, Alex.”

  “Yes. I know that, Mom.”

  “Alex…”

  “Mom,” Alex interrupted, “I love you more than anything, but you have to give her a chance.”

  “Our family…”

  “What family?”

  “Alex…”

  “Mom,” Alex said. “Please. You have to give her a chance.”

  Alex’s mother looked at him and caressed his cheek. She slowly nodded and then cursed whoever prepared that horrible salad.

  45.

  Greg Sloane turned his car onto the gravel path that led to the Great Lodge. The dirt parking lot was located just to the left of the main doors, and Sloane could see various small cottages scattered around the stretch of land right off the water.

  He parked his car and walked over to the main building. The scenery was beautiful, but it was cloudy, and he felt a few rain drops so he quickened his pace. He was still not entirely sure why he agreed to come.

  He had received a phone call from a m
assage therapist who told him that one of her clients, Freddy Rozelli, had called her repeatedly, sounding drunk and high.

  “Well, why are you calling me?” Sloane had inquired.

  “He asked for you, Mr. Sloane.”

  “He called you to ask for me?”

  “He called me to say inappropriate things,” the masseuse answered. “But then he started crying and he asked for you.”

  She told Sloane how she’d recommended Freddy get away for a bit. He took her advice and went to the Great Lodge. Sloane hung up and then called the lodge pretending to be Freddy’s concerned father. The person at the reservation desk bought it and told him more than he should have.

  Freddy Rozelli was a guest and had been there for nearly a week. He was looking less healthy by the day and the staff hoped he would leave soon. A few of them knew who he was, but they kept it quiet. When Freddy was asked how much longer he planned to stay, he muttered something about leaving him alone and charging his credit card.

  Sloane approached the front desk, but there was no one in sight. He looked at a sign that advertised homemade fudge and nature walks and could see why the massage therapist recommended this place.

  He rang the bell three times before a large man wearing a bowtie appeared from the back stuffing his face with a Portugese custard. He had a nametag that simply read MANAGER.

  “May I help you?” he asked while chewing.

  “I’m here to see Freddy Rozelli.”

  “Ah, right. You’re his dad.”

  The manager motioned for Sloane to follow him. They went outside and walked down a narrow path by the water. Sloane wondered what spending a few days here with his own wife and children might be like.

  After a five-minute walk, which was closer to ten minutes because the manager moved so slowly, they finally came to a series of cabin doors right in front of the lake. The manager kept eating the custard while he walked, and he was breathing heavily. At the same time, he hummed to himself and did not seem overly concerned about anything.

  The manager stopped in front of a door.

  “This is it.”