The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

The headline read HOCKEY FEVER!

  The clerk and Alex both glanced over at the newspaper photo and then back at each other. Alex smiled awkwardly and left with his purchase. It occurred to him that a few short months ago he’d been in this same store buying onions in a desperate attempt to cry. So much had changed since then.

  Playing hockey was helping distract him from how much he wanted Diana back, how lost he felt in the world without his mother, and more recently how much he wanted to forget about his dressing-room encounter with Helen.

  The press conference to hype Toronto’s semi-final series against Ottawa took place at the Arena Gardens. Helen was working with Freddy’s agent, Greg Sloane, on handling publicity. Sloane knew how to deal with media types, and he seemed more than happy to help on a more regular basis.

  Ken and Freddy sat behind a long table. Alex was also there, along with Matt the Cat, who played a solid series against Detroit. They were both wearing their Just Toronto baseball caps. Conspicuous by his absence was Corey, the human hot-air balloon.

  The presser started with Ken talking about how hard his guys fought back from a 2–0 series deficit against a strong team and never gave up. He talked about their character and “lunch pail, blue collar” mentality. He also mentioned what a valuable addition Freddy “The Flash” Rozelli was to the team. Freddy smiled gratefully at the praise.

  “You still clean, Freddy?” a voice called out.

  Sloane was standing near the reporters and looked over to see who asked that question. Brooks Edwards, of course.

  Alex tensed up in his chair and looked like he wanted to lunge at Brooks and choke him out.

  “Why?” Freddy replied. “What are you offering?”

  The room filled with laughter at Freddy’s response. It seemed that everyone found it funny, except for Brooks.

  “How are you guys going to deal with ‘The Wall’?” a female reporter asked from the back.

  No one from the Toronto side was quick to respond to that.

  That was a reference to Ottawa’s goalie, Joseph Walter.

  During the round robin game in which Toronto mounted that amazing comeback for their first win, Walter was not in net for Ottawa because of a stomach virus. After he returned a few games later, Ottawa went on to have the lowest goals-against average of any team in The Tournament. Although they had their issues scoring goals, Walter’s goaltending helped them move up in the standings. He’d been nicknamed The Wall by one of his teammates, and most nights he looked virtually unbeatable.

  “Well,” Freddy finally responded, “good goalies can get in your head, and that guy has been unbelievable for them. The thing with that is, you can’t shoot at a goalie thinking you’ll never score…because if you do then you never will.”

  Freddy glanced over at Matt, who appeared to be daydreaming.

  “Plus,” Freddy continued, “our guy’s not so shabby either.”

  The same reporter turned to Matt. “Coming off a great series yourself, Matt, how do you think you match up against the Wall?”

  Matt stared blankly at the reporter. “Huh?”

  “How do you think you match up against Ottawa’s goalie?” she repeated.

  Matt looked down at his hands for a second, took a quick sniff and wiped at his nose. Freddy was studying him intently.

  “Well,” Matt began, “I mean…you know…I’m just going to do my thing to keep pucks out of our net.”

  That statement seemed to satisfy everyone, and more questions were asked about matchups and strategies.

  The rest of the press conference bored Brooks, who became uncharacteristically quiet. He let it run its course without saying anything more.

  Not yet.

  26.

  Melanie frantically emptied the contents of a travel detergent pen onto her blouse in a panicked effort to remove a stain before she left for work. Her toddler, Sophia, had just spat up her milk on it.

  “I told you not to pick her up when you’re going to work!” Melanie’s never-calm mother screeched.

  Melanie had two uniform shirts, and the other one was downstairs in the laundry. She would have appreciated it if her mother made more of an effort to be helpful around the house with laundry, since she was living there rent-free – even if she did help look after Sophia.

  “Mom, I’ve got to go,” Melanie said as she grabbed her purse and went to the door. She looked down at her blouse, which had a large wet circle forming on the right side.

  “You should always have a towel or something draped on your shoulder!” her mother exclaimed.

  “Bye, Mom,” Melanie said and opened the door.

  Standing there on the porch with his hand poised to knock was Alex. Melanie jumped back.

  “Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Sorry,” Alex said and lowered his hand. “My name’s Alex Bucco. I’m looking for Melanie.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You’re Melanie?”

  Melanie didn’t answer, and neither did her mother who peered in from the living room.

  “I’m a friend of Isaac’s,” Alex said.

  “So what?”

  “Look, can I come in for a second? Please?” Alex asked.

  “No,” Melanie’s mother answered with her arms crossed.

  “Mom!”

  “Fine, you tell him no,” Melanie’s mother snapped before leaving the room.

  Melanie turned to Alex. “No.”

  “Okay, fine. I just came here to tell you something.”

  “I have to get to work. I’m going to be late.”

  “Did you know he’s playing hockey right now?” Alex inquired. “Have you heard about The Tournament?”

  “Yes,” Melanie rolled her eyes. “And you’re playing with him. I’ve seen it on TV. So?”

  “Did you know we get some money for playing on the team? It’s really hardly anything,” Alex smiled. “We call it ‘jury pay.’”

  “So?”

  “Is that all you say? ‘So?’”

  “What do you want?” Melanie demanded.

  “You know what Isaac’s been doing with his money?” Alex asked.

  “I never asked him to do anything.”

  “I’ve known that guy for a long time,” Alex said. “We grew up together and he’s made some mistakes, but…”

  Melanie scoffed.

  “Alright, fine. He’s made some really big mistakes,” Alex offered. “But you know what? I don’t know anyone with a better heart. And maybe he deserves a chance to make things right.”

  Melanie’s mother returned holding Sophia.

  “Wow, she’s beautiful,” Alex said.

  “I really have to go,” Melanie responded impatiently. “You’ve said what you came to say. Now I’d like you to leave.”

  “Sure,” Alex responded. “One more thing, though…I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think Isaac could be a good father. I know what it’s like not to have one.”

  Alex descended the front steps and looked over his shoulder at Melanie.

  “I’m worried this is going to eat him alive,” he said, before adding, “Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”

  27.

  There was very little in the way of turnaround time between Game 7 of the quarter-finals and Game 1 of the semifinals. Toronto had finished just ahead of Ottawa in the round robin standings and gained home-ice advantage, so the first two games of the series would be played at the Old Arena Gardens.

  Despite Freddy Rozelli’s brave face at the press conference, the team spent a considerable amount of time discussing ways to solve Ottawa’s star goaltender, Joseph Walter – “The Wall.” Freddy talked at length about forwards like Curtis standing in front of the net taking abuse and setting up screens. In their meeting room all the guys watched intimidating video of the Wall’s exploits.

  Ottawa had a fair amount of speed, but their forward and defence combinations were not as strong as Detroit’s on paper. The fo
cus kept coming back to beating their goalie.

  Outside the arena an hour before the game, a large informal tailgate party was in full effect. Food vendors had also noticed the larger crowds, and many moved themselves from their usual downtown locations to park in front of the rink. Hot dogs, sausages, hamburgers, French fries and ice cream cones were selling at a rapid clip.

  Angus Miller stood by the door and took in this scene before getting on the Zamboni to finish preparing the ice. He shook his head in disbelief that this was the same arena that stood abandoned just three months ago.

  Toronto came out flying against Ottawa. Led by Alex and Mike, the Toronto players showed no signs of fatigue and thrived on the energy of their fans. They outpaced and outhit Ottawa on every shift for several minutes.

  Late in the period, Toronto gained the zone as Mike fired a low shot at the net. Curtis parked himself right in front and the Wall never saw the puck as Curtis deflected it perfectly.

  As the fans celebrated and the players changed lines, Isaac commented loudly enough for all his teammates to hear:

  “Looks like the Wall has a hole in it.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Isaac,” Ken said, almost shouting.

  On the very next shift and with fans buzzing, Toronto looked like they had another sure goal as Eddie used his speed to split through Ottawa’s defence. He took his deadly wrist shot and the Wall made a superb save with his blocker. The rebound dropped beside him, and Eddie had a wide-open net. He flew in and poked at it, but at the very last second the Wall extended himself across the net and trapped the puck with his glove just as it was about to sail past the goal line. The crowd gasped, and all the players on the Toronto squad got their first look at what the Wall had been doing to keep his team in games.

  Toronto players continued to push hard for another goal and dominated the rest of the period. By the end of the first, the shots were a completely lopsided 20–3 in their favour, but the score was still just 1–0.

  The only Ottawa player who really appeared to have shown up was their star goalie, who continued to stifle Toronto shooters. He’d adjusted to the screens that Curtis and others put up in front of him and was now blocking tipped shots as well.

  On the bench, Curtis shook his head in disbelief.

  “It’s like he can see through us,” Curtis lamented to Mike as they both chugged water.

  At the end of the second, Toronto had thrown everything and the kitchen sink at the Ottawa net, but the score was still only 1–0. Cole articulated the bizarre situation.

  And at the end of two periods, folks, it is still Toronto hanging on to a 1–0 lead in this opening game against Ottawa. The shots are 42–10 in their favour. Joseph Walter has put up the Wall again and given his team a chance to come back and steal this game.

  One other player on Ottawa was getting under Toronto’s collective skin, similar to Dino Francis in the first series. His name was Greg Leon and he was at a stay-at-home, sometimes dirty defenceman. He also had a nickname – “The Butcher” – because he once mouthed off to the local press in Ottawa that he was going to chop up his opponents like pieces of meat. He was cautioned and forced to apologize, but the nickname stuck.

  The Butcher liked to put his stick between the legs of an opposing player who had the puck along the boards and then leverage the stick to force the player’s body away from the puck. This move became known as the “can opener.”

  After three or four can openers against Toronto players, Ken grew hoarse yelling at the referee. Freddy pulled Ken away to avoid a bench penalty, but Ken continued to give the ref the gears.

  Ottawa poured it on and went from hanging on by their fingernails to showing signs of life. They were up to fifteen shots on the Toronto goal, and although he hadn’t been pressured nearly as much as the Wall, Matt “The Cat” looked sharp and steady in the Toronto net. His defence let him have good looks at the shots, and he controlled his rebounds.

  Down in the Ottawa end without much time left in regulation, Leon went for another can opener on Eddie who saw it coming and sidestepped it. As The Butcher turned to try and keep pace with Eddie, he stepped on Eddie’s stick and lost his balance. The referee’s arm shot up immediately and the sellout crowd let out a collective groan.

  This time, it was Freddy who lost it on the Toronto bench.

  “Are you kidding me? You let this guy get away with murder the whole fucking game and you call that?”

  With Toronto’s best penalty-killing forward in the box, Ottawa got the break they were looking for. A shot from the point hit Toronto’s Barry Davis on the leg before sneaking past Matt to tie the game.

  The goal gave Ottawa renewed life, and it was obvious they now saw an opportunity to win the game. With about five minutes left in regulation, the Wall registered his fiftieth save of the night on 51 shots.

  Suddenly, Toronto looked like they wanted to get to overtime so they could have a chance to regroup. As a result, it was Matt’s time to shine as Ottawa took as many shots during the next five minutes as they had in the entire game up to that point.

  As the buzzer rang to end the period, Matt made another big save, snatching a dangerous-looking wrist shot out of the air and coolly flipping it to a linesman after the final whistle. His goaltending seemed to give both the fans and his teammates a jolt of much-needed confidence. He was proving to be, as Freddy put it at the press conference, “not too shabby either.”

  In the dressing room, Freddy talked about the need to stick to their game plan:

  Screen the Wall. Hustle. Make noise around the net. The puck will go in again.

  “Try and give him something he’s not used to,” Freddy added.

  As overtime started, both teams came out hard. The two goaltenders were now routinely trading good and at times spectacular saves. Midway through the extra period, Ottawa’s Walter surpassed sixty saves on the night.

  On the next play by the Toronto net, Matt made a save and dropped down to freeze the rebound. An aggressive Ottawa forward jostled with Barry Davis and both players got their sticks up. Barry’s stick inadvertently slipped under Alex’s visor and clipped him.

  Alex went down immediately and was writhing on the ice with his face buried in his hands. Isaac went right after the Ottawa forward, although it was not his stick that clipped Alex. Linesmen intercepted Isaac as Eddie quickly escorted the college student studying to be a paramedic from Toronto’s bench over to Alex.

  Although conscious the entire time, Alex realized he didn’t want to open his left eye. Instead, he opened his right eye and saw blood on the ice. His hearing became more acute, and he could hear people in the crowd gasping.

  Alex now forced himself to open his other eye and saw a dark and thick red stream, but as he blinked he realized that he could see through it – which under the circumstances was probably good news. The trainer gently removed Alex’s helmet and examined his face as he managed to sit up.

  “Right on your eyelid,” the trainer said. “Man, you’re lucky. It just missed your eye, but it’s bleeding a lot. You dizzy?”

  “No,” Alex replied. “Someone just throw me a towel.”

  The trainer gave Alex a towel, and he held it over his eye as he got to his feet to huge applause from Toronto’s devoted fans. Players on both teams tapped their sticks on the ice.

  Surrounded by his teammates, Alex returned to the bench with Mike and Eddie closest to him in case he needed support.

  Barry skated off to a corner by himself and just looked on. Isaac turned back and glared at him.

  “Look at him,” Isaac said in disgust. “He can’t even come over to see if you’re okay? Remind me to break his shit.”

  “Leave him alone,” Alex replied as he made it to the bench. “Just go out and win this thing.”

  With his good eye Alex saw Ken, who came over to check on him.

  “Don’t worry, Coach,” Alex said. “This guy will sew me up and I’m back out in a few minutes.”

  As much as Helen o
rganized everything for The Tournament, it was Corey who had insisted they needed a proper medical room. The last thing he wanted to see was one of these bozos suing the team for not providing an ice pack or rubbing alcohol. The result was a respectable first-aid room, complete with supplies and an adjustable examination table.

  “I need to get back out there,” Alex said as soon as he lay down on the table. The nervous college-student trainer had given him a handful of gauze to apply pressure on his eyelid in place of the bloody towel.

  “Okay, okay, I’m doing my best,” the trainer said as he looked through various supplies.

  “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I think you have to stitch it,” Alex said.

  “I don’t want to try and stitch your eyelid, man.”

  “You ever done stitches before?”

  “Yeah, but not on an eyelid.”

  “How different can it be?” Alex insisted. “Just do it. Do something.”

  The trainer came over and moved Alex’s hand with the gauze to one side so he could survey the damage. He cleaned the eyelid with an antiseptic wipe that made Alex wince.

  “Come on, I’ve got to get back out there,” Alex pleaded.

  “I know. You keep saying that.”

  The trainer continued to rummage through supplies. He held up a small tube and studied it.

  “Alright, we’re going to glue it,” he announced.

  The area above Alex’s eye was throbbing and he could feel a headache creeping in.

  “Look, I’m all for whatever gets me back out there, but what the hell do you mean we’re going to glue it?” Alex asked.

  “Skin glue,” the student replied. “Instead of stitches.”

  “You ever used skin glue?”

  “No.”

  “Great,” Alex replied, as the student pulled straps over Alex to secure him to the exam table.

  “We need to tilt you down for this,” the student trainer said. “We need gravity.”

  Alex was tilted downward to the point where he was practically upside down.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” the student instructed.

  Alex closed his eyes as firmly as possible. He desperately wanted to get back out there for his team and thought he heard another set of footsteps come into the room, but he did not ask. Probably another trainer. Hopefully, this college kid had a supervisor.