The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  He couldn’t overdo it, but a little hit now and then would keep him straight and he could give Rachel some money to supply him. No one on the team would ever know what he was up to.

  He would be discreet.

  20.

  A few hours after realizing there would be no late-night extramarital shenanigans, Corey left his office and finally headed home. It was time to put a lid on this long day.

  Until recently, he had never felt guilty about cheating on his wife. But after seeing how she grabbed the bull by the horns and operationalized everything for The Tournament, he was starting to look at her differently. She was not the same old Helen who complained and nagged at him constantly.

  As he entered the house and made his way up the stairs, Corey saw Helen walking by on the second floor. She was dressed in her bathrobe and held a small towel in her hand.

  “Hey,” he said. “Why are you up?”

  Helen entered the nearby bathroom and soaked the towel in cold water before straining it in the sink. She yawned and told Corey their son had a stubborn low-grade fever. She passed by him and Corey stopped her. He took the towel from her hand.

  “Just go to bed,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

  Corey never offered to be helpful around the house, ever. When the roof leaked, Corey let Helen deal with it. Sewer backed up in the basement, Helen dealt with it. The furnace broke down in the middle of winter, it was Helen calling someone in to repair it before they all froze.

  “You sure?” she asked, clearly dazed.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead.

  “Get some rest.”

  Helen smiled at her husband before returning to their bedroom. Maybe she was hallucinating, she thought.

  21.

  The next day was a break in the routine for the players as they prepared to play on the road for the first time. Since they were not pros, and especially since Dave Chambers flipped out on Corey about money, they were travelling on an old coach bus.

  As Alex boarded the bus that morning, he looked at the shoddy interior and quietly lamented to Eddie that the seats looked old and worn out.

  Eddie sniffed the air. “They smell, too.”

  Nevertheless, they all piled in and hit Highway 401 to start travelling east toward Canada’s capital city for their next opponent – Ottawa.

  Morning rush hour had ended as the team bus left Toronto, and driving conditions were excellent. The driver managed to keep a fast, smooth pace that lulled some players into an impromptu nap – none more so than Curtis, who fell asleep and slumped over immediately onto his seatmate, Barry Davis, who looked annoyed and needed both hands to shove big Curtis back up.

  After nearly two hours and with the bus nearing Kingston, Alex stood up and looked all around the seats.

  “Hey,” he called out. “Where’s Isaac?”

  “Don’t know,” someone answered.

  Alex turned to Eddie, who had earbuds in and was playing a game on his phone. He heard Alex over the game noise and just shrugged. Alex went to the front of the bus and sat beside Ken as he was looking through a stack of notes.

  “Hey, Coach,” Alex said. “Any word on Isaac?”

  “No idea,” Ken answered.

  “Anyone check on him?”

  “Probably the only person would be you, Alex,” Ken responded. “Why don’t you give him a call when we get back? My guess is he’s had enough and quit.”

  “Okay,” Alex said before getting up to return to his seat.

  He just hoped that Isaac was alright.

  22.

  One of the more average-skilled, unknown Toronto players carried a tray of Thai noodles through the food court at the Rideau Centre in Ottawa and stopped as he passed by Alex, who was sitting with Mike and a few others.

  “Hey, Alex,” the player said. “What’s up, man? We’re eating in a food court?”

  Alex was in the middle of enjoying a delicious banquet burger and could care less that it came from a shopping-mall food court. He put the burger down and turned to his teammate.

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Todd.”

  “Well, Todd, what were you expecting?”

  “We’re hockey players,” Todd protested. “Shouldn’t we get –”

  “We’re not hockey players,” Mike interrupted as he used chopsticks to dig into sushi. “We’re just a bunch of guys playing hockey.”

  Alex smiled at Todd and took a big bite of his banquet burger. The players around the table laughed.

  “Alright, I get it,” Todd said.

  “Yes, we’re a bunch of thirty-something guys playing hockey for a few months,” Alex said. “So, sit down and enjoy your noodles.”

  Todd nodded and walked away with his tray.

  “That’s the problem,” Mike said.

  “What is?” Alex asked.

  “No one’s enjoying their noodles.”

  “That has to change.”

  “Yeah, it does,” Mike agreed. “But how?”

  Alex put his burger down and looked at Mike.

  “I think I know how,” Alex replied.

  “Yeah, me too,” Mike said as he poured more soy sauce over his sushi.

  Alex picked his burger back up and went for another big bite.

  23.

  Sleeping arrangements meant sharing rooms in the cheapest hotel Helen could find, which was just outside of Ottawa. Many of the players were tired after dinner, but Alex decided to walk around. His parents brought him to Ottawa once on a weekend getaway when he was ten years old, but he had not been there since.

  As he toured the closed stores of the ByWard Market, Alex remembered being impressed by the large Canadian flag atop the Peace Tower when he was a kid. He looked up toward the sky and saw the flag still flapping in the wind, as glorious as ever.

  The national flag on the Peace Tower. There really was something peaceful about it.

  After finishing his coffee, Alex continued his walk and eventually made it back to the motel. He knew that he should crash and get some sleep. They had a skate-around scheduled for the morning and the game against Ottawa later that evening. For the first time in a while, Alex felt sleepy before midnight.

  Even though the players had to share rooms, thankfully they did not have to share beds – even though there was only one proper bed in each room. The players were told to flip a coin and the loser got the pull-out sofa bed.

  Alex was supposed to be bunking with Isaac, but since he was AWOL Alex’s roommate was now Todd, the younger defenceman who complained about having to eat in a food court.

  They flipped a coin and Alex lost.

  “Come on, man,” Todd said. “You’re the captain. Take the bed.”

  “No, it’s cool. I don’t care,” Alex replied.

  Alex pulled the couch out. The springs creaked loudly, and a layer of dust shot into the air as the bed unfolded and landed on the old carpet.

  “It’s okay,” Alex said. “I’ll cover it with something.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  After laying out some of their belongings, Alex and Todd prepared for bed. Todd went to the bathroom and a few minutes later came out wearing flannel pajamas and a retainer attached to headgear. Alex turned away to laugh while he made his bed.

  “How old are you, Todd?”

  “Thirsty-fre…” Todd stopped and removed his retainer to speak more clearly. “Thirty-three.”

  “Pretty sure you’re the youngest guy on the team,” Alex said.

  Alex used his blanket as a mattress cover to keep from sleeping directly on the dust, and he put on a hoodie and track pants to avoid being cold overnight. Todd put his retainer back in and turned off the lamp by his bed.

  “Hey, Aleksh?” Todd called out in the dark.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do you thenk we shuck?”

  “Not sure,” Alex responded. “I think maybe we ne
ed to want it more…starting with me.”

  “Yeah, I guesh so,” Todd said.

  “One game at a time,” Alex said before turning on his side to sleep. “Let’s try not to ‘shuck’ tomorrow.”

  Down the hall, Curtis was supposed to be shacked up with the new guy, Todd, but after Isaac failed to show up, Todd was redirected to bunk with Alex, and Curtis was temporarily assigned single accommodations. Ken somehow sensed that he could use it.

  Curtis lay in bed after picking up two panicked messages from his mother, who had wanted to discuss his waiter job. He turned off the phone and spread his large frame out on the bed.

  It was not long before he felt himself drifting off into sleep.

  It was like he had died and gone to heaven.

  24.

  The morning skate was much looser than any player expected. Ken threw two buckets of pucks on the ice and told the confused Toronto players to “go for it.” When they all stood still and looked at him, Ken yelled:

  “Grab a puck!”

  Alex and Mike were the first two to respond and were followed by the other players, who messed around the rink for the next forty-five minutes. Ken put himself right in the mix with them. He was pretending to check Curtis and tie up his stick. The players laughed as Curtis towered over the coach while they engaged in some good-natured jostling. Everyone left the practice feeling a little lighter, and they had not discussed a single play or even conducted an organized drill.

  Most players went for lunch and then a nap before the evening game, but Alex decided to go for a walk to Parliament Hill. Broadcaster Cole Foster joined him.

  The Canadian House of Commons was not open at that time for tours, so Alex and Cole stood on the expansive front lawn. Cole talked about his grandfather serving in World War I and being part of the group that famously took Vimy Ridge back from the Germans, which helped Canada gain international credibility as a nation independent of Britain.

  Alex had grown up listening to Cole Foster call games, and it was surreal to be hanging out with him in front of the Canadian government buildings and listening to stories about his family.

  After they returned to the motel, Cole wished Alex good luck for the game.

  “I think you guys can do something, Alex,” Cole said. “You just have to find it.”

  A few hours later Alex was standing inside the dressing-room door behind Matt again, dressed in his uniform and ready to lead the team out. Despite the lighthearted nature of the morning skate, Alex could feel that tension had returned among the players. It seemed to linger in the air like an invisible cloud.

  They had to find a way to work through it.

  COLE

  And good evening hockey fans from coast to coast and to our neighbours south of the border in the United States. Cole Foster here again for Toronto’s first road game of The Tournament, from Canada’s beautiful and historic capital city of Ottawa!

  Ottawa has won three and lost two so far, while Toronto remains winless and needs to turn it around quickly if they hope to qualify for the playoffs.

  The teams are lining up for the opening faceoff. Toronto’s coach, Ken Hornsby, has sent Mike Hill out to take the opening draw.

  The puck drops, Hill wins it, and we are under way!

  During the first few minutes of the period, Toronto players looked hesitant and missed their coverages on every shift. Ken yelled at them, but on the very next shift Toronto’s entire forward line collapsed on their backcheck and Ottawa raced down the ice on a four-on-two rush. Ottawa passed the puck around smartly and set up a one-timer which should have been a goal, but Toronto’s goalie Matt Richards dove across the net and made an incredible save with his blocker.

  Here comes Ottawa again. A shot from the slot! Ohhhh and Richards makes another save…another shot! Great save! Rebound! MATT RICHARDS! Ohhhhh, baby! He covers up, and Toronto finally gets a whistle and will try to regroup. They are lucky the score is still 0–0, and Richards looks sharp in the opening minutes!

  As sharp as he was, by the fifteen–minute mark Toronto was being outshot 16–3, and on an ensuing power play Ottawa scored on a deflection which Matt did not see because of a screen in front of him. He still managed to get a piece of it, but not enough to prevent the goal.

  1–0 Ottawa.

  As the second period started, Ottawa burst down the ice with the puck on the opening faceoff, took a shot and crashed the net for a rebound. On their third whack they scored again.

  2–0 Ottawa.

  Ottawa soon doubled their lead to 4–0. Matt was the only bright spot on the hapless Toronto squad. He had made 31 saves on 35 shots, many of them absolutely brilliant, and no one in their right mind could blame him for any of the goals allowed.

  Curtis then took a foolish hooking penalty, more out of frustration than anything else. On the power play yet again, an Ottawa defenceman took a slapshot from the point and one of their forwards fell backwards onto Matt as the puck sailed into the net.

  5–0 Ottawa.

  Alex followed the referee up the ice complaining there was goalie interference on the play, but the ref argued Matt skated too far out of his crease and the goal would count. Alex returned to the bench and sat beside Mike.

  “You had about enough of this, Chief?” Alex asked.

  “Yup, sure have,” Mike replied.

  They turned together and looked at their coach.

  Ken nodded and quickly wrote out something on his notepad. Alex moved up the bench to play forward.

  On the next play, Toronto conducted a wholesale line change as Mike, Curtis and Alex all leaped over the boards and stormed the ice. Alex immediately stepped into the Ottawa forward carrying the puck and mowed him over.

  After gaining possession, Alex passed the puck over to Mike who took it on the fly and danced into the Ottawa zone.

  And here comes Toronto with a sense of urgency. Hill enters the zone and shakes off one Ottawa forward and now a defenceman! Look at him go! Pass across to Lewis…and a shot! Big rebound! Bucco with another shot! Ohhhhh! He hits the post and the puck goes over the glass and out of play!

  The entire Toronto bench seemed to wake up from a slumber. Eddie lined up closest to the door. He would be the first forward to take the ice on the next line change and he looked like a caged animal, raring to go.

  Alex, Mike and Curtis glared at the Ottawa forwards as they stayed on the ice for the faceoff. Mike grabbed the puck off the draw and saw an Ottawa defenceman stepping forward to hit him. At the last second, he dropped down low and hip-checked the defenceman over his shoulder. The opposing player went sailing through the air before falling back to the ice.

  The Ottawa bench went crazy demanding a penalty, but the referee indicated the hit was clean and to keep playing. The crowd booed loudly as Toronto flew into the zone again. Mike took a shot as Alex and Curtis crashed the net for a rebound. All three buzzed around the Ottawa goalie and Barry moved in from the point looking for a pass.

  Alex was dumped to the ice by an Ottawa player who cross-checked him in the back. The referee’s hand went up to signal a delayed penalty against Ottawa.]

  Ottawa’s just hanging on now! Penalty coming up. Lewis has it! He takes a shot…Bucco is dumped again. A rebound! Lewis! Scooooores!!!!

  The celebration after Curtis scored was overboard by any reasonable account, but the long-suffering Toronto players finally had something to celebrate and were not holding back. As Alex, Curtis, Mike, Barry and his defence partner mobbed each other, their teammates were all on their feet at the bench and banging their sticks against the sideboards.

  With less than a minute left in the second period, Barry shot the puck into the Ottawa zone and Eddie blew by Ottawa defenders, who struggled to turn and stay with him. He grabbed the puck, wheeled around the net and found Alex coming in from the point. Alex drew two Ottawa forwards close to him by faking a shot before dealing the puck to Barry.

  Barry stopped the puck, wound up, and wired a slapshot to the short sid
e…

  Scoooooore!!!! Barry Davis! What a shot! And just like that, they’ve cut Ottawa’s lead to 5–2.

  When the puck dropped to start the third period, Toronto kept pouring it on. Cole Foster was challenged to keep up with the excitement. Toronto scored within the first few minutes after Curtis stood in front of the net again and tapped in an easy rebound.

  Ottawa now led 5–3.

  Halfway through the period, Eddie smartly poke-checked the puck off an Ottawa defenceman and skated away on a two-on-one with Mike. He drew the lone defenceman in and then fed a perfect pass to Mike, who put a beautiful two-step deke on the goalie and scored Toronto’s fourth goal. They were now within one of tying the same game that seemed out of reach just thirty minutes earlier.

  Matt, who had been besieged in net for nearly two periods, was now hardly facing any shots. Toronto forwards and defencemen were beating Ottawa to every loose puck. In addition to being shocked at how things were going, Ottawa was becoming tired and desperate. Mike was hauled down as he tried to split their defence, and Toronto was on another power play.

  Despite a valiant effort by their penalty-killing squad, Ottawa could not clear their zone. Mike grabbed a loose puck, moved through two Ottawa players, faked a pass and then snapped a quick shot into the top corner.

  Cole sounded hoarse:

  He scores!! Mike Hill has tied the game! Can you believe this? Down 5–0, Toronto has roared back and tied it up! Oh, baby! We’re in for a wild finish!

  Toronto managed to keep the puck in Ottawa’s zone in the dying seconds of the period. Ken looked up at the clock. Ten seconds to go.

  Curtis was holding his ground and taking abuse from Ottawa defenders. Alex took a shot from a bad angle and it hit an Ottawa defenceman who was struggling to contain Curtis. The puck then fell to the ice by Curtis’s feet, and he shovelled the loose puck toward the net before being knocked over. On his way down, Curtis saw the beautiful image of a flashing red goal light and he smiled as his body crashed to the ice.