by Van Barrett
“I'm sorry,” I say. “Sorry for everything. Like I said. I'm kind of a slut, I guess. Sorry you had to find out like this ...”
“It's okay. I don't care about your past, Cal. I know you're a good person.”
... I just wish I knew that.
“Thanks.”
“There's gotta be some way to protect you from all this.”
I shake my head. “It's too late for that.”
There's nothing left to say. It's time to get ready for bed. We've got practice tomorrow, and afterward we'll have one of the biggest media circuses of my life, I'm guessing.
I slide under my bedsheets with a sigh. Tyler climbs in with me.
I'm surprised. “You sure?” I ask him. “After what I just told you?”
He wraps his arms around my stomach and pulls me in close. “I told you I don't care.”
With his arms nestled tightly around my core, I feel a warm glow in my stomach. Something I haven't felt for anybody in a long, long time.
“Thanks, Tyler.”
I WAKE IN THE MORNING to the sound of our door opening and closing. Tyler's already woken up, and he comes in holding two plates of food from the hotel's breakfast. He jumps in bed next to me, somehow balancing the plates perfectly so he doesn't spill any food on the sheets.
“Mornin'.” He sounds calm, composed.
“Morning,” I reply groggily.
“Got you a plate.”
“Mm. I see that. Thanks.”
He sets it on my chest, just below my chin. I peer down my nose at it. Eggs, sausage, orange slices and grapes. I sit up and take a bite.
“So,” I ask with a mouth-full. “Run into any of the guys out there?”
Tyler takes a bite of eggs and shrugs. “Yeah. Tanner, McNabb, Nelson.”
“And?”
He shuts his eyes and gives a knowing shrug. “Well, about what you'd expect. Wondering what you're gonna do. Wondering if it's all true.”
“Yeah ...” I let out a deep exhale. “Man, I'll be happy when this is all over. It's gone on way too long.”
“So I've been thinking.” He begins, but he shovels another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. I wait for him to swallow.
“Yeah?”
“I know how we're gonna handle this. I think.”
“Run away? Announce my early retirement and disappear completely?”
“Ha,” he takes another heaping bite of sausage. “No. You're gonna play out the rest of the games.”
Tyler tells me his plan. Which isn't much of a plan at all. He just wants me to hold a presser and tell the truth, like Burkhardt demands.
“That's it? Give him just what he wants?” I shrug. “Some plan, Ty.”
“Trust me, alright. It's our only option.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. What choice do I have?”
We finish up our breakfast. Then it's time to get ready for practice.
47.
Big Day
Callan
Me and Tyler arrive at the arena together. Cameras, microphones and iPhones are waiting for us – jammed in our faces and follow us as we walk through the arena.
Callan! Callan! They yell. I hold my hands up to my face to shield my eyes from the camera flashes. They speak and shout over each other, but they all wanna know the same thing. What do I have to say for myself? What will I do about Burkhardt's demand?
“No questions,” Tyler says, waving them off as we pass. “We'll talk after the practice.”
There's an elephant in our dressing room, obviously. Everybody seems grumpy and short. And I don't blame them. We've made it to the Finals and now winning the Cup is the last thing on anybody's mind. They have a right to be pissed off.
Coach Stevens runs a scrimmage in practice. I'm on the blue squad, Donovan's on the other red squad. He's hacking at me all morning; pushing, shoving, jabbing at me. I swear under my breath and shove him back, but he won't stop until I can't take anymore.
“You wanna drop 'em already, Don-o?” I ask. “Or are we gonna have a slap-fight all day?”
It's rare for teammates to fight in practice. Rare, but it happens. Probably hasn't ever happened in the Cup Finals before, but ... if it's what a team needs, why not?
“Big talk coming from you of all people,” he laughs.
“I'm serious. Let's go.”
He looks at me. I nod. We throw our gloves down at the same time and come together with our fists flying. The team stops what they're doing and watches. We trade a few blows, sneak a few good jabs in, before we get tangled up in each other and the fight grinds to an end. The boys step in and separate us.
There's a murmur from the few people in the stands who have come to watch our practice. I hear the shutters and see the flashes from the cameras around the rink. Donovan got me good on the nose. I dab at it and see blood on my hands. Every time I face the stands, I see more flashes as the cameras document the damage from our fight.
Coach Stevens looks embarrassed. Under the brim of his hat, he rubs his eyes. He shakes his head and blows his whistle. “Alright. Showers. No more.”
We head back to the dressing room. Vance doesn't waste any time. He tells Coach that he's calling a players-only meeting. Coach nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
Vance paces up and down the room, glaring at every one of his players.
“We got that out of our systems, boys? Anybody else need to fight each other? Are we done self-destructing yet?”
No one says anything. We all stare at our skates, too ashamed to look him in the eye.
“So there's a rumor that one of us is gay, huh. And because of that we're gonna stop playing like a team.” He stops in front of Donovan and stares. “You were brought in here to be a leader, Donovan. Look at the way you're acting. Childish. Embarrassing.”
Donovan holds a bag of ice to his knuckles. He purses his lips, looking disappointed.
“Sorry, captain.”
“You guys fell for it, man. Isn't it obvious? This is the distraction the Jets wanted, the one they've been counting on as their ace in the hole. And they got it. Burkhardt's been holding on to this all fucking year ... waiting for the right time to use it. And now you're playing right into his hands. Stupid. That's what this is. Who the hell cares what anyone here does in their own free time?”
Vance turns and looks at me. “Tell 'em, Cal. Tell 'em what you're gonna tell the media.”
I gulp. I look up at him, my eyes huge. Really?
“Tell 'em.” He nods. “Better they hear it from you first.”
I stand up and fidget with my hands. “Uh. Well, yeah.”
“Yeah, what?” Vance demands.
“Yeah, it's true, alright – the rumors are true and I'm gay.”
My eyes dart around the room, peering at my teammates. I see a few shrugs. A few raised eyebrows. A few blank faces.
“And why were you traded?” Vance asks me, but still he paces up and down the room looking at the other players.
“Because ... the Jets found out I was gay.”
“How?”
“I went to a gay bar.”
“They caught you at a gay bar.”
“Yeah.”
“So he likes guys. You got a problem with that, McNabb?” Vance asks.
McNabb's eyes grow huge when he gets called on. He shakes his head left to right rapidly, nervously. “N-no!” he says meekly.
Vance pats the rookie on the shoulder and whispers to him. (“It's alright, bud.”)
“Nelson? You got a problem with that?”
“Well, uh – errr ... no, not really.”
“Has he ever hit on you, Emerson? Propositioned you in the shower, anything like that?”
“Of course not.”
“Brickley?”
“No.”
“Every last one of you knows that Callan would skate through a fucking brick wall for this team. How many of you has he fought for after a nasty hit? How many times has he stood up for the rookies? We're pai
d to be professionals here, boys. We're not paid to be gossips, or to make judgments about who does what in their own goddamn spare time. If you don't like it – you can leave this room right now. Get out and don't come back because we won't need you going forward.”
Vance points towards the door and waits. No one dares leave.
“From now on, we win and we lose as a team. I've already lost one Cup. I might lose another, but it's not gonna be because I happen to have a gay teammate. This is the last we're gonna hear about it. Alright? If you don't like it, you can ask for a trade in the off-season. But for now, you're a Hawk, and you might not ever get this close to the Cup again. Don't blow this.”
The mumbles come from around the room. “Yeah, cap'.” “Sure thing.” “Uh, go Hawks.”
Donovan looks up at me. He nods at me. I nod back, and with that, I hope the hatchet is finally buried.
Vance sits down in his stall. But then he stands up again. “Oh, one last thing. Callan's gonna make his press conference after we're all showered up. And I want every last one of you standing by his side.” He sits back down and unties his skate laces angrily. “And if that's a problem for anyone, if you can't go on playing with us – the door is still open. We'll be better off without ya.”
Well. I wet my lips. That seems to have gone ... a lot better than I expected.
And I feel kind of stupid that this has gone on for so long. If I had known ... I would've had Vance do this a long ass time ago.
But then again, I guess I have to wait and see. It's one thing for players in here not wanting to piss the captain off. But it might be another thing for them to get over in reality.
AN HOUR LATER, WE'RE all freshly showered and dressed and waiting for the okay to head into the media room. I'm nervously tapping my feet. I've got a notepad on my thigh and I've scrawled out a few things to say when I'm in front of all those cameras.
A few of the boys are nice enough to come by and offer me support.
“Hey, man,” Nelson says. “Take it easy, alright? I don't care how many dicks you suck, you're a good goddamn hockey player.” He punches my shoulder. “Just kidding. About sucking dicks. Well, er, sort of.”
“Oh my god, Nelson. Shut up, dude,” I laugh, punching him back. I know he means well, but o-m-g, he's hilariously awkward.
The media people come in at last and give us the cue. “It's time.”
I blow out a big, nervous gust. “Alright. Let's do this.”
48.
Press Conference
Callan
I'm the first out of the room. Tyler walks behind me, and the rest of the team behind him. We file into the conference room. The media people immediately jump out of their seats, holding cameras over their heads, and blinding, crisp white lights flash at us. No sound but the movement of bodies and the rapid-fire click-click-click of camera shutters. I stand behind the podium at center, and the boys surround me on both wings.
I set my notepad on the podium, clear my throat, and test the mic.
“One-two, okay, uh. Hi.”
I look out over the sea of faces. I see all the local Winnipeg reporters I've come to know over the years. Some of the big-time mainstream reporters are here, too. In the back, I see Burkhardt and a few of my ex-teammates. Burky stands tall, his muscular arms folded, his face twisted with a dark smirk.
“Wow. I see a lot of people I've come to know here in Winnipeg.”
I pause. It's the loudest silence I've ever heard in my life – I could swear I hear the anticipation, could hear the digital tape recorders registering nothing. Faces tilt at me, brows raise expectantly, a few of the senior journalists' hold pencils hovering over notepads.
“I wrote down some things I wanted to say but I'm not really sure to begin. Ha.”
I look left and right at my teammates. Tyler nods at me.
“Okay. Well, first of all, I wanna say thanks to the Winnipeg Jets organization for giving me the chance to get my career started here. I had a total blast here, my first three seasons in the league, and I'm always gonna hold those memories in my heart. This is where it all started for me. Where my dream of being a pro hockey player actually came true, and I won't ever forget how amazing that was. Obviously, my time here didn't the end the way I ever would have imagined or hoped ... and that's why everyone's gathered here today.”
There's a small murmur in the crowd.
“I guess I'd hoped that the rumors and the circumstances surrounding my trade would go away. I'm realizing now that it won't – that I can't just keep running from this. So, yeah, there's a couple different claims about me right now, and I think it's finally time to clear the air. By now we're all aware of Jason, the internet personality claiming to have had a sexual relationship with me ... and, yes, he's telling the truth.”
The crowd gasps. The sound of pencils madly scribbling on notepads is deafening.
“It's true – I'm a homosexual athlete. I'm gay, and I was able to keep that fact a secret from my teammates up until recently. This internet personality demanded a million dollars from me to keep our one-night 'affair' a secret. I refused to give in, and Jason followed through on his threats to make his story public.”
I pause while another round of camera flashes lights the room.
“There have been many other rumors since my trade from Winnipeg. I understand that my former captain, Dimitri Burkhardt, has made something of a demand yesterday, post-game – that I hold this press conference and admit to you all the matter of my sexuality – or else he would release a certain video. Well, obviously, here I am – telling you that I am gay. But I don't want you to think that I'm holding this press conference to stop this video from coming out. So I'll go ahead and tell you what this video depicts.”
I try not to bust a grin when I see the panicked look Burky gets. His head shoots left to right, bewildered, searching his teammates' faces for a clue.
“Mr. Burkhardt followed me one night in Chicago, without my knowing, to a gay bar. The footage Mr. Burkhardt has would prove Jason's claim – as the video depicts the night we met. I'm aware that Mr. Burkhardt could release this video as revenge for me telling you this. So, I'll warn you ahead of time. I must admit this video is extremely lewd and suggests adult acts. But I can not, and will not, apologize for its existence, because I obviously had no idea I was being recorded, and would not have consented to its recording in the first place. After Mr. Burkhardt recorded this footage, he went to our general manager and demanded that I be traded. That's how I ended up in Chicago less than two days later.”
The media people can barely contain their excitement. Eyes are as big as dinner plates and jaws drop all around the room. In the back row, Burky's fists tighten into angry balls and he gnashes his teeth with rage. Fuck, he mouths.
“Chicago – the city, the fans, the team – have all been amazing to me. Even after my stumble out of the gate, when I failed to report with the team after the trade. Hey, there's another bomb-shell confession! The travel mix-up was bogus.”
I wink, and the room chuckles.
“But hopefully now you can see why I was afraid. The truth is, as great as the Hawks have been, the last few months have been a living hell for me. I've woken each day fearing the inevitable – that Mr. Burkhardt would release this video and the hockey world would learn about my sexuality. I was totally convinced that I'd be black-listed from the league, because no team would want to play with a gay teammate. I really thought this would be my last year.”
Heads shake, saddened and disappointed by the idea that an NHL player might not be able to earn a contract because of his sexuality.
“And maybe this is my last year. I honestly don't know.” I gesture at my teammates. “I've only just now, a few minutes ago, told my teammates what I'm telling you. But at least for now, we've all agreed: we're putting all the personal stuff aside and playing as a team, for the Cup. At the end of the year, I'll see what contract offers I might get.
“And so, it's actually a huge rel
ief for me right now – as nervous as I am to be standing before you and saying all this, ha ha! – to put this behind me, and more importantly, to put this behind the team. I don't know what the future holds for me as a hockey player. But for the next week, that doesn't matter to me. I'm giving everything I've got. We've got a shot at a Cup and we're going to do all we can to win these next few games and bring it back to Chicago.
“So, uh, I just wanna say – thanks to everyone throughout my career who has helped me. And thanks to Mr. Burkhardt – I see back there, Burky!” I point him out, and heads whip around to spy my old captain. “Thanks to Burky for helping this all come out, even if it's not the way I would've wanted it to go. Don't be too harsh on ol' Burky in the columns you're gonna write, guys. If nothing else, Burky taught me I had a lot of growing up to do if I wanted to mature into a good teammate.”
I see soft, twinkly eyes staring back at me.
“So, err, I guess that's it. Thanks for listening. I don't think we're going to take any questions today.”
“Wait,” Tyler says next to me, craning over the microphone. “I got something I wanna say, too.”
I shoot him a look. What the hell, Vance? Don't do it!
He budges me.
“Oh, er, I guess the captain has some things he wants to say.” I reluctantly step away from the podium. Let's just hope he knows what he's doing ...
“I just wanna say what incredible courage this guy has. When he came to this team, nearly all of us hated his guts.”
Laughs come from all around. My teammates get big smiles and their heads bob with agreement.
Vance continues. “But anyone who watched our games this year knows how much respect we grew for this guy – how he earned it, how he fought and battled for us down the stretch. He's the reason we got this far in the playoffs. It's not easy to be a gay athlete in this league – or any profession, I'm sure. You have to put your love life on hold. You have to wait until your career is over before you can finally, quietly, be yourself and find a partner. Or else you'll face what Callan here has gone through since his trade.”