by David Skuy
Ritchie continued to clown around. Soon, he had everyone laughing. Rocket sometimes wondered how Ritchie kept his spirits up and was so positive about life. Here was a doctor who had to clean buildings all day, who was ripped off by his boss and who was trying to adjust to life in a foreign country. He seemed to have so little, but he still gave so much.
Rocket suddenly felt terribly sad. He’d never had a family like this. His parents had divorced when he was little. He hadn’t seen his dad much since then. His mom had to work a lot to make ends meet, and Rocket had spent a lot of time alone. It got better when Maddy moved in, but Rocket hadn’t really lived at home since he was drafted as a junior. Maybe that’s why he loved playing hockey so much. He never felt lonely on the ice.
“Your turn, Rocket Man,” Rafa said.
Rocket threw an eight on the pile. “Make it diamonds.”
“You shouldn’t waste your eights so early,” Leona scolded.
She was an interesting kid, feisty and demanding, but also the first to cheer her family on and always ready with a hug. Rafa acted like a tough kid, but deep down, he was sensitive and kind. Their parents obviously adored them both.
Rocket thought of Rory, then. His friend was so obsessed with getting back to the NHL, he was missing out on time with Melissa and Angela.
Was it possible to have both — a family and a hockey career? Rocket wondered about his future. Could he have it all? And if not, what was more important?
“Rocket,” Leona said. “It’s your turn again. You’re being such an empty head.”
“Sorry. I was trying to decide which awesome card to play.”
Leona played next and then Mariana.
“Pick up two,” Mariana said to Ritchie.
“I will not forget this betrayal,” Ritchie said.
Rafa and Leona giggled.
Rocket shifted to get more comfortable.
“I think Bryan is getting tired,” Mariana said.
“Okay,” Leona said instantly.
“No, no. I’m good. Let’s finish. Besides, I want to see Rafa cry.”
“Oh, yeah, look at this.” Rafa put down three sixes. He knocked on the floor twice. “One card left,” he said proudly.
“Are your friends coming back to see you soon, Bryan?” Ritchie asked.
Rocket picked a card from the pile. “I’m not sure. They go to different schools, so they have to figure out a time that works for all of them.”
“They are nice kids,” Mariana said. “They worry about you.”
“They do,” Rocket said. “I just need to get healthy and start playing again — and get into the NHL. Then I can worry about them.”
“When will you be healthy?” Leona said.
“Soon,” Rocket said.
Mariana cast a worried glance his way. “Do not rush back. Make sure you feel one hundred percent healthy.”
“Pick up two,” Ritchie said gleefully.
“Ugh,” Rafa groaned. He reached for the cards.
Rocket looked over at his computer. Tomorrow he’d pick those online courses and sign up for the winter term. Megan was right. His family needed him to have a plan B. It was selfish not to. Despite all of his hard work, hockey might not be in his future. And if that happened, he’d never be able to help his mom and Maddy.
“I win!” Leona squealed, her arms over her head. “Everyone has to start crying.”
“One more game?” Rafa pleaded. “I almost won.”
“It’s late, and Bryan needs his sleep to heal,” Mariana said.
Actually, this was the best Rocket had felt in weeks. Time spent like this would help him heal faster than sleeping or watching hockey videos. He collected the cards.
“One more — if that’s okay with you, Mariana?” Rocket said. “But I’m actually trying this time. And absolutely no tears when I am the champion.”
The two kids howled in protest as Rocket dealt the cards.
CHAPTER 26
Rocket forced himself to jump down the last two stairs. He had to see if it hurt.
It did, a bit, but he didn’t want to think about it. He needed to start working out.
He was so bored. After four weeks of watching Racers games from the press box, he wanted some action. He’d also watched countless hours of hockey videos, taken endless notes and asked Rory and Kaufman a million questions — all the while suffering a nonstop barrage of insults from Barker. He’d even started calling Rocket “Head Case.” The guys on the team hadn’t picked up on it, but Rocket worried that it was a matter of time before they made the connection to his injury.
It was difficult to say that the Racers actually missed him. They were playing over .500 hockey and were coming off three straight wins. Strauss was doing well. He could downright play, although he still struggled in the faceoff circle. Terrence Day worked hard, but his footspeed was an issue.
Barker was quoted in the newspaper as saying that the Racers were winning because of discipline and toughness — in other words, because of their new head coach. Rocket thought Rory and C.C.’s return to the lineup was the real reason. Along with Goldsy, their line was scoring a ton.
His phone buzzed. It was Maddy. How are u doing?
He texted back, Working out as we speak. Hope 2 be back soon.
Maddy’s response was immediate. Great. Don’t rush it. You have 2 heal. We’re fine.
She was still so worried about him. So were Megan and his mom. They were almost constantly in touch. He wished he could give them good news.
What’s new with U? he asked.
Got a new part-time job. Pays well, lots of hours, she texted.
How was she going to handle that and keep her grades up? Hope not 2 many, he answered.
Just the right amount. Now, get back 2 your workout, slacker!
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Worrying about Maddy wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Yo, yo, yo, the Rocket is in the house,” Rory said as Rocket entered the workout room.
Rocket nodded, then took his sweatshirt off and tossed it on a table.
“You ready to do some exercise, or are you going to whine about some itsy-bitsy concussion?” Rory said, laughing.
“A little whining, probably, but I’m ready to go hard at it.”
Rory popped a pill in his mouth and took a sip of water. “Just a little something to dull the pain.”
“How’s the knee lately?” Rocket said.
“Ehh, not great. It hurts,” Rory said. “Nadav’s been giving me a shot before games. It’s legal, so I’m not worried about that. I just wish the stupid pain would go away. Anyway, how about a super-intense ten-minute bike ride to start?”
Rocket flashed a thumbs-up and hopped on a bike.
“I thought I heard some voices in here,” Kaufman said as he walked in. “How are you boys doing?”
“Awesome, Coach,” Rocket said.
Kaufman’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re not rushing it, Bryan. Have you spoken to a doctor?”
“Not recently … Nadav and I meet most days, and I’m doing some workouts he designed. The doctor basically said it was up to me. I really am feeling a lot better.” The words rushed out, and he began pedalling faster to prove them.
“I’ll let management know,” Kaufman said. “I’d like to see you out there. We need your speed and scoring.”
“I want to play, more than anything. I think I’m close,” Rocket said. “Like I said, I’m awesome, Coach. Ready to hit the ice.”
He’d been spending more and more time with Kaufman lately. He was incredibly knowledgeable about the game. Funny how Rocket had spent his life playing hockey, including four years in major junior, and he still had so much to learn.
“Let me know how you feel after this workout,” Kaufman said. “If you’re good, then we’ll talk about you joining us for a practice.”
“Not to put you on the spot,” Rory said, “but what about Strauss and Day? Would Rocket take over one of their lines?�
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“I imagine a decision will have to be made,” Kaufman said. “And as you can imagine, it’s not my call.” He patted the handlebars of Rocket’s bike. “Have a good workout, boys. It would be nice to see a few others in here with you.”
“C.C. and Goldsy were here yesterday,” Rory said.
Kaufman nodded. He seemed distracted, as if thinking about something else.
“Interesting,” he said. He tapped the handlebars again and left.
Rory was grinning.
“What?” Rocket said.
Rory raised his eyebrows. “‘I’m awesome, Coach?’”
“Ugh, I know.” Rocket laughed. “I wish I could take it back — along with everything else that’s happened here.”
Rory stood up on the pedals and began sprinting. “Pick it up, buttercup,” he said.
Rocket tried to join him, but suddenly he felt exhausted, and his eyes went blurry.
“The hard times make the good times that much sweeter,” Rory said. “I didn’t appreciate the privilege of playing in the NHL. Took it for granted. Next time, I’ll enjoy every second.”
Rocket slowed down, breathing heavily. “Do you ever worry about being away from Melissa and Angela so much?”
Rory went even faster. “Yeah, of course. That’s the price you got to pay. Some guys have the easy path. Guys like us have to outwork everyone to get our shot: one shift — one workout — at a time.”
Rocket turned down the tension on the bike and slowed even more.
Rory saw things in black-and-white terms. He’d do whatever it took to make it to the NHL. Every sacrifice was worth it.
Rocket wasn’t sure he felt the same anymore. He used to feel so strong, almost invincible. He sure didn’t feel that way now. He’d been off the ice for weeks. He also knew that one more bad hit could really mess him up. He pictured himself in his mom’s apartment, sitting in front of the TV, being spoon-fed by Maddy. He couldn’t do that to his family.
His time with Ritchie and Mariana had also taught him the real meaning of sacrifice. They’d left El Salvador so that Rafa and Leona could have a better life. They weren’t thinking about themselves. Ritchie had given up being a doctor to come here, and he and Mariana both worked hard as cleaners.
Was Rocket playing hockey to help his family, or was it for the glory — so he could be a big-shot professional athlete?
“Pick up the pace, Rocket Man,” Rory said.
There was about a thousand guys in the AHL — how many of them would finish their careers in the NHL? Would Rory? And look at C.C. He was awesome and he still couldn’t break in full-time. Could Rocket really expect to do better?
He increased the tension and tried to pedal harder. He couldn’t. It was like he could feel the beating of his heart in his head. He had to stop.
“I’m so out of shape,” Rocket said. “Maybe I’ll just do some stretching today.”
“No worries, bro,” Rory said. He kept going hard on the bike. “Welcome to professional hockey. In the end, it’s about who can block out the pain and keep going. Wait until you play eighty-two games, then hit the playoffs. Your body never gets a chance to heal. Even those nicks and bruises add up. The ache in your body never goes away. You just push through it — and get that puck.”
Was Rory right? Was it about pushing through the pain?
At this point, Rocket knew that could just make things worse.
Megan had sent him a steady stream of information about concussions. Some guys suffered headaches and dizzy spells for years. Worse, multiple concussions could cause permanent brain damage and mental problems. He’d known all that, of course. He’d just ignored it. How can you play hard when you’re worrying about getting hurt?
Rocket thought of André. He’d given up playing hockey because he didn’t think it was worth it. So had Ty and Adam.
At what point it would stop being worth it for him? Should he risk another injury? Was it time to go home, get a job and help his family? Or, should he go to university so he had more options later? What was the right choice?
He felt dizzy, and his legs were weak. He took a few steps to the mat area and flopped to the ground. Lying on his back, he brought his knees to his chest, as if he were stretching. Truth was he needed to lie down.
That’s when it really hit him — full force. He couldn’t even ride a bike for five minutes. What if he never got better?
He might already be out of options.
CHAPTER 27
Nadav held out a fist as Rocket walked into the empty dressing room.
Rocket gave it a punch.
“I heard from Kaufman you did some biking,” Nadav said.
“Yeah, two days ago. Nothing major,” Rocket said.
“How’d it go?”
Rocket frowned. He knew he could trust Nadav. “Not so great. I had to stop after a few minutes, but after that I was okay the rest of the day. As long as I don’t push it, I feel good.”
“That’s a definite first step,” Nadav said. “Typically, you’ll start improving more and more over the next few weeks. I bet by Christmas, you’ll be ready for a game.”
“Christmas?” That was weeks away.
“Impossible to know for sure, but based on your progress, that’s a reasonable guess.”
“You’re bringing me down. Any good news?”
“At yesterday’s practice, Barker got hit in the ankle with a puck. He’s limping.”
“Sorry I missed it — even sorrier I didn’t shoot it.”
Nadav looked at his watch. “They’ll be coming in from the pre-game skate. I have to get to work.” He grabbed a bunch of towels.
“Let me help,” Rocket said. He took some more towels and began placing them in front of each stall.
The door opened. Barker, Floyd and Blywood walked in.
“Head Case is finally making himself useful,” Barker said.
Floyd laughed. Rocket’s cheeks burned as he finished handing out the rest of the towels.
The door opened again, and Kaufman came in. He looked very serious.
“A bit of bad news,” he said. “Straussy pulled his hamstring during the pre-game skate. Not sure he can go on tonight.”
“What the hell?” Barker yelled. “I’ve had it with that stiff. Now it’s a freaking hammy? Blywood, when are you going to make that trade already? We need another centre.”
Blywood looked around the room nervously. “We’re getting close. Teams are asking for a bit much, plus we have to get Landry on board.”
“All I get is excuses,” Barker said.
Blywood sat on a stool and looked down at the floor.
“What about him?” Floyd said, pointing at Rocket.
“Yeah, what about you, Head Case?” Barker said. “You going to actually play this year?”
Rocket wanted nothing more than to play — he just wasn’t ready.
“I wouldn’t recommend that Rocket play yet,” Nadav said. “He still has some dizziness and—”
“Thanks for the expert medical opinion, doctor,” Barker snapped. “He looks healthy enough to me and has for a couple of weeks. It’s been like, what, over a month?”
“Concussions take time,” Nadav said.
“Kid’s made of glass, more like it,” Barker said. “Hey, Head Case. You gonna step up or wuss out?”
Rocket clenched his fists to control his anger. “I obviously want to play, Coach Barker. For sure, that’s why I’m here. But it’s not like rehabbing a knee. I can’t just work out or take medicine. It’s hard to explain, but I’m sensitive to light, and I still get a headache if I push things. Even walking too fast can do it. And I’m always tired, no energy. But I’m getting better and—”
“I’ve been working with Bryan, along with Nadav, and I can vouch that he’s putting in the effort,” Kaufman said.
Barker ignored him. “I’m asking you to suck it up and be a hockey player, Rockwood.”
Rocket forced himself to take a deep breath. “I just don’
t think I can play.”
Floyd stepped forward. “Kid, you already forced us to suspend you once. Are you refusing to play? Because I don’t see anything wrong with you.”
Nadav cleared his throat. “With respect, Mr. Floyd—”
“With respect, shut up and finish handing out the towels, or whatever else you do around here,” Floyd fumed.
“What’s it going to be?” Barker said to Rocket. “We need a centre. Tonight. You ready to be a hockey player? You ready to step up and be a man? Because if you aren’t, we’ll get someone who is.”
Rocket took a deep breath. He was dying to get back on the ice. No one loved hockey more than he did. No one. Should he risk it? He could go out there, step up for the team and just hope he’d be okay. Not that Barker would ever thank him for it. But at least he wouldn’t get suspended, or hurt his reputation.
But hockey was a contact sport. He’d definitely get hit. And that could be the end of everything.
“I’m sorry, Coach Barker, Mr. Floyd,” he said. “I don’t think I can play.”
Barker’s lips curled into a strange smile, as if he’d won something. But before Barker could react, C.C. pushed the door open and led his teammates into the dressing room.
“Good energy out there, Racers,” C.C. said. He tossed his gloves into his bag and took off his helmet.
“I’ve got two goals in me, boys. I can feel it,” Goldsy said, plopping down next to C.C. “Who else is going to pop one in — or should I just get four goals in the first period and lock it up?”
“Let’s keep it close for the first period and then bust it wide open,” Rory said.
Rocket stepped aside to let the guys get to their stalls.
“Settle down. Settle down,” Barker said. The guys quieted. “Strauss, what’s the deal?”
Strauss grimaced, and he began to rub the back of his right thigh. “It’s my stupid hamstring again. I felt something go snap in the warm-up, and I can feel it tightening up. I think I need to rehab it a bit. I’ve been battling it since training camp. I guess I pushed it too hard.”
Barker made a sour face. “You definitely push it. That I agree with.”
Strauss’s face went pale.