The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  “Never mind The Wall,” he said. “You played incredible, Mattie. Let’s go celebrate.”

  And celebrate they did, with greasy food, cheap hotel rooms and women. Matt’s father paid for everything. He insisted. Father and son were making up for lost time.

  As Matt shuffled home afterward, he was too dazed to notice the light on in his boat – and when he entered, his sometimes-girlfriend Rachel was standing near the bed.

  “You’re finally here,” she said. “Where you been, Mattie?”

  “I had a game tonight,” he responded. “What are you doing here?”

  “We were supposed to meet up after the game,” she pointed out. “Did you forget?”

  “I guess so. Sorry.”

  Rachel came up to him and gave him a kiss.

  “I made us some food,” she said.

  Matt looked over at his small table and saw two microwaved dinners with a cheap bottle of red wine and two paper cups.

  “I can reheat them,” Rachel offered.

  The extent of Matt’s tiny kitchen area was a microwave and bar fridge.

  “It’s okay,” Matt replied. “Not really that hungry. Did you bring more?”

  Rachel took two small vials out of her purse and handed them over.

  “Thanks,” Matt said before putting them in his jacket pocket and collapsing on his bed.

  “Want to get fucked up?” she asked.

  “I’m really tired,” he muttered.

  “I watched that crazy game,” Rachel said. “You must be wiped out.”

  After eating one of the dinners and having a glass of wine by herself while Matt snored, Rachel placed the other dinner in the fridge, turned off the light and crawled into bed with him. She threw an arm around Matt and was asleep herself within minutes.

  33.

  After kicking Dave Chambers out of his office earlier that day when he received Helen’s text, Corey left in a flash to meet with her. The time and distance they had from each other since the Associate Lawyer bomb exploded must have helped, Corey figured. Helen realized that she missed him, their kids needed their father, and throwing away their future could not be worth the inability to look past his bad-boy behaviour. All that was in the past, and he could convince her of that. He would not sleep with that Associate Lawyer now even if she threw herself at him and begged. It truly was nothing.

  As he parked in their driveway, Corey wondered how quickly he could get all his stuff moved back in. He was hoping to see Helen standing inside the door, with a somber look on her face, ready to hug him and move on.

  Instead, he walked into another ambush.

  Helen was seated in their living room with a man that Corey did not recognize. After visibly reacting to Corey’s disheveled appearance, Helen turned away and avoided eye contact with him.

  The man was dressed in an expensive suit, and his briefcase was resting on the floor near his chair. He stood and extended his hand while introducing himself as Helen’s “legal representative.” Corey looked at his hand but did not shake it. There was a file folder on the table.

  Corey did not breathe much as the stranger lawyer invited him to sit down in his own house. Corey was handed the folder and he skimmed the pages inside. Helen’s “legal representative” began to narrate a summary.

  “I can read,” Corey interrupted. “I went to law school, too.”

  The lawyer smiled politely and stopped talking. He was used to being hated.

  The document was a lengthy but standard separation agreement, complete with generous access for Corey to have time with the kids, although the language made it clear that Helen wanted primary custody. Corey dropped the folder on the table and looked at her.

  “Are you serious?” Corey asked.

  “Mr. Peters, I can assure you that Helen is serious,” her lawyer responded.

  Corey turned to Helen. “You’ve never held back. You’ve got nothing to say now?”

  Helen would still not look at him. “You should take a shower.”

  Stung by her comment, Corey took the folder and stood up to leave. After taking a long look around his house, he slowly walked outside and got back in his car.

  Inside, Helen held her head in her hands. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Her lawyer shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

  Corey had not attended the Game 1 double-OT thriller. Instead, he decided to hit up a sports bar and watch the game while drinking himself to oblivion. The bartender eventually cut him off and demanded his car keys. Corey was in the process of handing them over when Mike scored his magical wraparound.

  The next night Corey went there again to watch Game 2 and dropped his keys on the counter before ordering his first drink.

  “Just get me a scotch and call me a cab later if you have to,” Corey pleaded.

  He wondered if anyone even noticed that he had not been at the arena lately.

  The pace of Game 2 was noticeably slower, although Toronto managed to put up nearly fifty shots again. This time it was Ottawa getting an early goal in the first period before Curtis tied the game up on a power play late in the second. The contest went to overtime again with the score tied 1–1.

  Since Corey was not going to drive, the bartender kept the scotches flowing. It also didn’t hurt that Corey paid for each round with considerably more money than the drinks actually cost.

  Was his marriage really over? All because of an affair that meant nothing? Why was Helen doing this? He wasn’t allowed to make a mistake?

  Unbelievably, the hockey game went into double overtime again. By that point, players on both teams had played the equivalent of nearly four games on consecutive nights. As Cole Foster put it, “They’re still going, folks. I don’t know how they’re going, but they are.”

  However, it was just a few minutes into the second overtime when an Ottawa player rifled a rebound right into the top corner of the net, giving his team its own dramatic 2–1 victory in front of a stunned and disappointed Toronto home crowd.

  The five or so people sitting near Corey in the bar moaned, and a few others cursed. Corey paid for his drinks and asked the bartender to call him a taxi.

  When he returned to his office to crash for the night, he noticed a set of keys on his desk with a note beside them. The note was in his secretary’s handwriting and had an address written on it:

  Mr. Peters: These are the keys to your new apartment…until you figure things out.

  34.

  After Alex agreed to do whatever it takes, Diana made an appointment for them to visit Dr. Williams together.

  Dr. Williams said it was a pleasure to meet him and mentioned how much she’d heard about him over the years. Alex smiled politely, but he remained quiet and was content to let the doctor and Diana carry the conversation.

  “How did it feel when you told Alex that you had been on medication?” Dr. Williams asked Diana.

  “Like a weight was taken off my shoulders,” Diana replied. “Like I could breathe easier.”

  “Why do you think you never mentioned it to him before?”

  “I was afraid it would make me look weak,” Diana sighed. “That he would think less of me.”

  “Alex, would you have felt that way?” Dr. Williams asked. “Be honest.”

  Alex shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

  Dr. Williams looked at Alex. “You don’t really enjoy these types of settings, do you, Alex?”

  “What? A doctor’s office?”

  “A doctor’s office, yes,” Dr. Williams replied. “Be honest.”

  Diana reached over and put her hand on Alex’s. She knew this was hard for him. For his part, he just cherished holding her hand again.

  “I hate it,” he finally replied.

  “Which part?”

  “All of it,” Alex said. “I don’t like talking about my feelings, and when I think of doctor’s offices, I don’t think of anything good, no offence.”

  “None taken,” Dr. Williams smiled. “So, why a
re you here then?”

  “Because I promised Dee we’d work through things,” Alex answered. “My life has been hell without her.”

  Dr. Williams leaned in, and the smile disappeared. “So, work through it, then.”

  Diana watched as Alex and her lifelong family doctor locked eyes. She thought Alex might blow up and storm out of there.

  After a minute or so, he exhaled slowly and said, “Okay.”

  35.

  The next morning, Toronto players were expected to be at the bus terminal for 8:00 a.m. The plan was to leave for Canada’s capital city at 9:00 and arrive by the early afternoon to check into their hotel. The team was booked into a Novotel right behind the Rideau Centre.

  Nearly all the players were on the bus by 8:40. Alex was in his seat and looking around for Isaac. He recalled how Isaac went AWOL the last time they travelled to Ottawa during the round robin. That couldn’t be happening again, could it?

  He then recalled his conversation with Dr. Williams the day before.

  “My father was not a good man,” Alex had explained. “I don’t have anything nice to say.”

  “What was bad about him?” Dr. Williams asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Be specific,” Dr. Williams pressed on. “Name one thing.”

  “I could name a few things.”

  “Pick one. Is there one thing that bothered you the most?”

  Alex clenched a fist on his lap. “He wasn’t good to my mother.”

  Isaac now made his way along the aisle of the bus and plopped down in the seat behind Alex.

  “Nice of you to show up,” Alex said sarcastically. “I was starting to think you were allergic to Ottawa.”

  “The show doesn’t start till I get here, baby. So I’m not really late when you think of it like that.”

  Alex noticed someone standing near the bus. He wanted to be certain before saying anything to Isaac. When he saw the stroller, he was sure.

  “Hey buddy,” he said to Isaac. “Did you come alone?”

  “Yeah, my man. If you don’t count the dozens of chicks that are always following me around.”

  “Have a look outside.”

  Isaac took off his sunglasses and looked out the window. His mouth opened and he became uncharacteristically speechless.

  Alex pulled on his arm. “Go. I’ll talk to Coach and hold the bus for a few minutes.”

  “I–I can’t,” Isaac stuttered.

  “Go now or I’ll throw you out there myself,” Alex responded.

  With wobbly legs, Isaac walked past his teammates and off the bus. Alex and Ken looked at each other and exchanged nods. Ken had figured out that something was going on.

  Melanie stood on the bus platform with their daughter beside her in the stroller. The little girl was bundled up. It was a windy morning. Melanie looked nervous as Isaac approached. He stopped about ten feet away.

  “It’s okay,” Melanie said.

  Isaac’s face lit up as he approached Sophia. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.”

  He kneeled in front of the stroller and put a hand against Sophia’s cheek. She looked at him curiously. Isaac tickled her and she made a wonderful, excited sound.

  “Oh my God,” Isaac said. “I want to eat her.”

  Melanie undid the buckles on the stroller and lifted Sophia out.

  “Here,” she said.

  Isaac gently took his daughter from Melanie. He could not stop staring at her and she could not stop staring at him.

  “She has my hair,” he mused.

  More of his teammates noticed what was going on, and Todd leaned out the bus door.

  “Hey! Is that really your kid?” he called out, laughing.

  Isaac turned in time to see Alex and Mike grab Todd and drag him back up the bus steps.

  “I have to go to Ottawa for a few days,” Isaac said to Melanie.

  “Yeah, I know,” she replied.

  “Can I see her again when I get back?”

  Melanie nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  Isaac heard the bus roar to life. He gave Sophia a big kiss on her forehead before handing her back to Melanie.

  “I’ll see you, little Sofe-Sofe,” he said before looking at Melanie. “Thank you.”

  Melanie nodded and held their daughter as Isaac got back on the bus. When the doors closed behind him, his teammates let out a loud cheer. Isaac smiled and put on his sunglasses. On the way back to his seat, he grabbed Todd and put him in a headlock.

  36.

  Upon entering their dressing room in Ottawa, Toronto players recalled their first win of The Tournament, a wild 6–5 comeback they celebrated in this very room. In some ways that seemed like it had happened yesterday. In other ways, it felt like a lifetime ago.

  The players went through their usual pre-game rituals, starting with Alex sitting and taping his sticks. The wound on his eyelid was barely noticeable now. Diana told him that one of the benefits of skin glue compared to stitches was the lack of a visible scar.

  Everyone went through their routines except Matt, who had put his pads on but was not stretching by his stall as he normally would. Freddy and Ken were going over line combinations with individual players. Freddy noticed that Matt was searching through his own belongings.

  “What’s up?” Freddy asked him.

  “Huh?” Matt answered. “Nothing. I just forgot something.”

  After he’d looked through all his things, Matt eventually sighed and gave up. He put on the rest of his equipment quietly. Alex looked over as well.

  “You okay?” he asked Matt.

  “Fine,” Matt responded.

  By the end of the first period, no one on the team really believed that Matt was fine. Despite the fact Toronto outshot Ottawa 15–6, Matt allowed two very stoppable goals and Ottawa led 2–0 in front of their own relieved fans, who reasonably believed a two-goal lead was secure with The Wall protecting their net. The second goal was easily the worst goal Matt had allowed since the start of The Tournament, a real stinker that went right through his five-hole.

  A hard slapshot from an Ottawa winger picked a corner from just inside the blue line. Matt came out of his net to cut down the angle and it was a good shot, but it was easy to tell from the deflated reactions of his teammates that everyone expected him to make that save.

  A hard shot makes it 3–0 for Ottawa. And I’m sure that Matt “The Cat” would like another look at that one, too. It just might not be his night.

  Toronto doubled down and took the game to Ottawa. The new strategy was to smother any Ottawa player trying to shoot the puck. It was effective in that Ottawa only registered three shots for the rest of the period, but The Wall was spectacular and Toronto’s new commitment to defence cut down their open ice and scoring chances.

  In the last minute of the second period, Isaac Banion deked out both Ottawa defenders before fooling The Wall with the puck and scoring a beautiful goal to finally get Toronto on the scoreboard right before the buzzer.

  Ken approached Matt during the second intermission.

  “Do you need to come out?” he asked his goalie.

  Matt shook his head.

  Ottawa carried a 3–1 lead into the third and Toronto came at them hard. The Wall stood on his head as his players cleared rebounds and did their best to let him see the barrage of Toronto shots that came his way.

  Frustration mounted on the Toronto bench. Curtis slammed his stick after taking three quality shots on the same shift only to be stymied by the Ottawa netminder.

  Finally, with less than half the period to play, Toronto gained an extra man after an Ottawa defenceman hooked Eddie to the ice. It was their first power play of the night, and they controlled the puck in the Ottawa zone.

  Here’s Bucco with it on the point…dishes off to Davis…back to Bucco…back to Davis…he fakes a shot…now he takes one! Great save! Rebound comes to Banion…a shot! Another save! Another shot! Saved again! Banion ANOTHER SHOT! SCOOOOORES!!!

  Is
aac’s second goal of the game put Toronto within one goal of tying it, and they poured it on for the next several minutes. However, right after they pulled their goalie with just over a minute to play to get the extra attacker, Curtis missed a hot pass from Mike and the puck caromed around the boards to an Ottawa defenceman, who cleared it immediately without having time to look. As luck would have it, the puck went the length of the ice and despite Alex’s best efforts to chase it down, it ended up going right into the empty Toronto net.

  With ten seconds remaining, Eddie managed to catch an Ottawa defender flat-footed and flew in on a breakaway after Mike hit him with a beautiful pass. Eddie took his deadly wrist shot, beating The Wall this time, to make the score a more respectable 4–3 with four seconds left.

  Despite the fact Toronto managed to pump three goals past the Wall for the first time, they lost the game.

  Back at the hotel afterward, Matt went to the front closet and opened it while Eddie was in the shower. He had two identical jackets hanging there and could still not believe that he’d taken the wrong one to the rink. He would not make the same mistake again.

  Game 4 was the very next night and Matt made sure to go through his complete pre-game ritual this time, which included snorting something twice up each nostril.

  The Ottawa fans seemed confident now and many jeered Matt as soon as he took the ice, but he seemed undeterred by their taunts. His demeanour suggested he was back to being loose and focused.

  As for his teammates, they came out angry. By the end of his first two shifts, Alex had drilled seven different Ottawa players and Ken warned him to be careful. A penalty or shoulder injury might occur if he didn’t take something off. Alex nodded, but the mere presence of Ottawa players on the ice seemed to offend him.

  Toronto led 2–0 after two periods on a breakaway goal by Mike and another deadly wrist shot from Eddie that soared over the Wall’s shoulder. By the end of the night the Wall had still stopped forty shots, but he looked more human.

  Ottawa spoiled Matt’s bid at a shutout by scoring with just under five minutes left in the third period, but Toronto had already added two more and won handily by a score of 4–1, tying the series at two games apiece.