2. Griffin
The contract for “becoming a professional hockey player” should have included a clause that detailed, “If [Player] has a strong skill set that may earn him a few trips to the All-Star game and worldwide recognition for said strong skill set, they will be subject to incessant internet fame in the form of direct messages, comments, and the occasional marriage proposal.” It probably wouldn’t have stopped me from signing a contract, but I could’ve trained myself to navigate this newfound fame as the NHL’s current “heartthrob.”
I blame all those hockey romance books. I’ve never read one myself, and to be honest, I’m a little weary to pick one up, but the moment those kinds of books made it onto bookshelves, everyone started making content around “cute hockey players” and someone on the Stingrays social media posted, “We heard you wanted to see cute hockey players?” with a picture of me arriving to the rink in a teal suit and gray tie.
It didn’t help that some of my teammates added their comments to the photos.
what a babe @griffinmarkey
I’d tap that!!
you got me pucking around for more @griffinmarkey *wink wink*
Look, I get it. We’re a team, but we’re also a business, and businesses need to make money. Social media helps a lot with that. I’m happy that I get to do a job that I love, and after nearly ten seasons with San Jose, I’ve been battered and bruised and I’ve adored every moment of it. Some players stay for less than a season before they get traded to another team and are forced to make a home in three different places over two years. This is my home, and I don’t want to leave it.
I just wish that people would stop fawning over me like I’m a sex symbol. I’m here to play hockey and try to win enough games for us to make it to the playoffs and win a Stanley Cup.
I drive up to the arena ahead of our last preseason game and park my car next to those of a few other players in our designated parking area. In my peripheral, I can already see a few photographers waiting to snap photos of us for social media. Today, I’ve got my sunglasses on because I don’t want my face to be pictured, and after grabbing my bag and pushing the lock button on my car, I walk towards our locker room with my gaze straight on. I hear their shutters click rapidly so they can get the perfect action shot. They want me to smile and look like I enjoy this, but my to-do list includes playing some hockey, and that’s it.
I step into our locker room and place the sunglasses in my suit jacket pocket. Once they’re secured, I stumble, almost landing face-first on a bench as Ross tackles me from behind.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the NHL’s Sexiest Man Alive!” He gives me a wink when I regain my footing and turn around to face him.
I give him the stink eye. “That’s not a real thing, is it?”
“Oh yeah, it is. You’re all over the web, bud.”
Ross is probably the most social out of all of us in our close-knit circle of players who have been with the team since we got drafted. People who leave comments telling him he’s hot don’t phase him. He thrives on it. He tries to force me to embrace it, too, because somehow, I get all the accolades for being the sexiest man in the NHL, however the hell they measure that.
“What do they say?” I ask. A part of me can’t help but be curious, even if I try to avoid social media to protect my mental health.
“Someone was reading a hockey romance, and they’re like if I could cast the main character in this book, I would have to pick Griffin Markey. He’s got this suaveness to him that makes me feral.”
I recoil. “Someone actually described it that way? Feral? What are they, a cat?”
“It’s something they say in romance novels. You know, to describe being attracted to someone.”
No, I don’t. My teammates should know that it’s been a long time since I was attracted to someone. Maybe that’s partly why I get placed on the “Sexiest Man in the NHL” list. Because I’ve spent my entire pro career being a bachelor. The last time I dated was in college. Meanwhile, some players who got drafted at the same time as we did, talk about raising children, and I, nearing thirty-three, think about my life’s trajectory and how it’s gone in a completely different direction.
“That’s weird. People are weird,” I tell Ross. “Let me ask you. Chris Evans, Ryan Gosling, Michael B. Jordan—do you think they like being called sexy?”
“I’m sure they love it,” Ross argues. “People pay attention to them, and then they get all this money for whatever movie they star in.” He starts putting his gear on, and I do the same.
“Look, man, I know where you’re coming from. It’s weird. For complete strangers to fantasize about you when they don’t even know who you are. But you’re an athlete. And hockey doesn’t see the money like basketball or football does. These hockey books come out, and it’s like people who have never thought about a sport before start paying attention. All you need now is a billionaire music star to start dating you, and then you’ll really take off.”
I chuckle. “No, thank you. If I’m going to date, which I’m not planning on for a while anyway, I’m going to be with someone who meets me and doesn’t care about who I am or what my status is. Dare I say, I’d much rather have them not know a lick about hockey. Then, at least, I can teach them.”
“That sounds nice. If you encounter the heir to the Wizards of the Coast empire, let me know. That’s who I want to be getting to know and hopefully getting my hands on all the rare trading cards.”
Ross, myself, and another player, Micah, are all in a group that plays various trading card games once a week. We’ve been doing this since we were kids, and it’s ironic that we’ve known each other for so long and found out we like the same stuff later in life. When people think about athletes, they don’t necessarily think about them having nerdy hobbies, but I’m not a typical athlete, even if I might have the looks of a “sexy one.”
I start lacing up my skates, the final step of assembling my uniform. “Oh, I forgot to mention, Drea set up a call with me to talk to that rep from Hero Seek to see if we can work out a sponsorship. Apparently, they’re doing some ice expansion on their map, and on the rare chance I do post online, someone caught wind that I posted about playing Hero Seek on my story. Now they want me to be their spokesperson.” I’m very selective when my agent comes to me with sponsored deals, but Hero Seek is undoubtedly my favorite video game. As part of my sponsorship, I’m guaranteed a lot of money, both in real life and in the form of in-game currency, so I said yes in a heartbeat. Give me all that lifetime battle pass.
“Hey, that’s awesome!” Ross says. “Get those sponsored deals. And Hero Seek? I loved that game. I actually should look into getting back into it. Hey, you wanna play tonight?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “Why not? I wasn’t planning on going anywhere else tonight.”
“Yeah, some of the rookies wanted to go to a club later and asked if I would like to tag along. I flat-out told them that I don’t mess with my bedtime anymore. And after a game? Don’t they want to like...reflect? Show up bright and early for the next practice, eager to do better? The kids nowadays, man. They’re little party animals.”
I start laughing. The good ol’ days. Once I was drafted, all my time was spent diving headfirst into my performance. I had fun in college, throwing ragers as a means to warm up in the New York winter. But these rookies aren’t going to get better if they’re partying the night away instead of evaluating their performances after a game. Especially if the next morning, they show up with a raging hangover.
Then again, with how many hours I clock on Hero Seek, I think I might be coming back a bit fatigued myself.
“I don’t know, Ross; you’re talking to the man who reached level 175 on Destin and single-handedly defeated their capture team with the Support down.”
“God, you’re such a nerd,” Ross laughs. “I love it, but I’m realizing how addicted you are to this game.”
“Who’s addicted?” Our fellow nerd, Micah, chimes in. He occasionally plays online with us, but he is also wildly into his DD campaign, so he never has time to play video games with us.
“Griff,” Ross says. “Did he tell you? He got approached for a deal with Hero Seek to be their new expansion pack spokesperson.”
“Dude, no way! I loved that game as a kid. People are still playing it, huh?”
“Yeah, I think a lot of people play it,” I chime in.
“I didn’t know. I’ve been so detached from which video games are popular now. New shit’s coming out, like, every day. No one talks about Hero Seek anymore, now that it’s what? Almost ten years old?”
“Well, it won’t be anymore now that Griffin’s the ambassador,” Ross says.
I wince at the realization that my face is truly going to be plastered on Hero Seek marketing all over the world. Everyone is going to see my face, smiling, with my name and “Hero Seek Ambassador” captioned under it. What if they require me to post about it all the time online? Am I going to feel even more overwhelmed with having to showcase a private part of my life in the public eye? That’s the exact opposite of what I want: people to see me and comment with assumptions about me because I’m a nerd who just wants to play a video game every once in a while.
“You know what? I don’t know if I want to be the ambassador for Hero Seek. That is a lot of people who will have eyes on me. I already don’t like all the attention. This is just asking for more.”
“What?” Ross yelps and bolts up from next to me on the bench. “Dude, this is such a cool opportunity. They could have asked anyone – a streamer, a pro gamer. Dare I say, an influencer. But they reached out to you! Won’t you feel like you made a mistake if you see someone on all that promotion?”
Maybe. I might regret it, but life will move on. Someone else out there will benefit from it. Someone who loves the spotlight and doesn’t mind getting more of it. I’m trying to get less.
“I mean, my life will be the same. I’ll wake up, go to practice, and play games. Life will be as it is now.”
“But life can be better,” Micah notes. “You’ll have a bunch of free Hero Seek shit. Maybe even a free computer setup to play as much Hero Seek as you want. And it’ll bring in like, a ton of publicity for the Stingrays. We’re already looked over in terms of popularity. No one thinks a team from San Jose, California, is going to win the Stanley Cup. Come on, man. Do it for the team.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I hate you.”
But Micah is right. We haven’t been a stellar team for a long time. While I’ve made my mark as a good hockey player, enough to be selected on the All-Star team, we’ve ended the last few seasons almost in last place, and this year, we may have that chance to turn it around. On game nights, the arena is full of fans who, thankfully, stick with us through it all and fill up seats in the arena. But we’ve started to see more pockets of empty seats, which breaks my heart. I wish they could be full and amplify the room with cheers.
“So, are you gonna do it?” Ross asks.
I peer down at my jersey, the teal blue color, and the weirdly cute but menacing stingray patched across my chest. This could be great exposure for the team, even if it feels like the scariest thing I’ve done in a long time. “Eh, we’ll see. I still feel uneasy about everything. I don’t know how you both can have hundreds of thousands of followers who like and comment and tag you in posts and not think that’s completely creepy.”
“It’s not like they know where I live,” Ross shrugs. “And if they do, they don’t bother me. Also, out of the three of us, I’m definitely the one who’s on their way out.”
“You?! Are you thinking of retiring?”
We were all part of the same draft class ten years ago. And every year, when we somehow make it through without severe injuries so that we can do it all over again, we make a pact that if we go down, we’re going to all go down together.
“Maybe? We’ve all been playing for a decade as of this season. Do you know how much my mother is hounding me for grandchildren?”
“No.” But I can be glad my parents don’t.
“Well, she is, and I’ve tried to tell her that it’s not happening until after I retire at this point, and she’s just begging me to stop playing. That, and my parents are getting old, and I don’t spend nearly as much time with them as I should, even though they live like, thirty miles away.”
“Tell you what,” Ross nudges me. “We’ll make a deal. After the game tonight, when we go home and play Hero Seek, we’re going to play a 1v1 match. If I win, you have to take the sponsorship with Hero Seek. If you win, you can choose to do whatever you want. I hope that you’ll change your mind and take the job, but if you decide not to, I won’t stop you. But you have to agree that if I win, you will agree to do the sponsorship. You can’t back down.” He holds out his hand. “Agreed?”
I ponder the thought while looking at Ross’s outstretched hand. At this point, if I don’t take the bet, then I’m being a coward. I haven’t played Hero Seek in a long time, but I think I can beat Ross. My defense still holds up strong, and the minions can do all the heavy lifting. I guess the worst that can happen is that I’ll be subjected to more attention, and Ross will gloat that he’s better at Hero Seek than I am, but I like a challenge. It’s motivated me long enough to do a good job in hockey. Now, it’s time to apply it to another facet of my life.
“Okay.” I shake his hand. “You’re on.”
In our first preseason game against Colorado, we win in overtime. It feels good to be back in the arena, hearing fans cheer for me after I do something big or small. I skate onto the ice, cheers. I keep control of the puck, cheers. I don’t score any goals, but I get an assist, and I feel pretty good after the game, even if I can’t stop thinking about how every move I make is sexualized by fans.
After some final comments from Coach on our performance, I get back into the car and drive home. There are a few fans who are smart enough to know where our exit road is, and as I’m about to head out, I hear my name being yelled and see signs of things along the lines of “I Heart Griffin,” which I try not to make eye contact with because I don’t want to be reminded of the fame I don’t want.
I reach my house in the southern part of San Jose, a two-story home that sits in a development of recently built homes. After unlocking the door, I put my bag down near the entrance, and my feline friend, Leslie, comes prancing from the kitchen to greet me. I’m not at home enough to get a dog, but I wanted a companion for the days when I was feeling lonely. Leslie is an adopted adult cat I got last year from a shelter, and she, like her namesake, Leslie Knope, is both eager and energetic. It’s a good thing I got this house for her to explore because she gets quite the workout from jumping up and down the stairs.
“Hey, Les.” I reach down to pet her. “Did you miss me? We won today, isn’t that exciting?”
I head over to the kitchen to grab her a pouch of broth as a treat and decide to treat myself to a beer. I may get on the rookies for partying it up, but I do like to unwind with a nice cold one.
As I’m about to boot up the computer, I get a text from Ross.
Ross: Hey man, guess who roped me into a drink @ the club? Anyway I’m just going to be drinking this one and then I’ll head home. But it’ll be like an hour.
“Typical Ross,” I tell Leslie while she’s lapping up the savory broth I put in her bowl. “Always getting roped into something. Well, I guess this works for me.I can get some practice in.”
I head up to my office and turn on the computer. It takes a while for it to do its thing and load up Hero Seek, but once I’m in, I’m greeted with the familiar medieval-looking logo and a pan-over of a forest-like map with castles that serve as home bases and little minions that roam around.
I don’t feel like playing alone, so I decide to find a random duo player in the lobby. Quickly, the game tells me I’ve been paired up with someone with the username “DiddyLiddy.” I chuckle when I read their name back in my head.
“DiddyLiddy, funny.”
I message them to introduce myself.
PianoPuck18: Hey DiddyLiddy! Love the name. It’s fun to say ten times fast.
DiddyLiddy: Thanks PianoPuck18! Pianos and pucks, huh? What’s up with that?
PianoPuck18: Grew up playing piano and hockey.
DiddyLiddy: That’s a cool combo! Music sports. Renaissance Man. Sorry, I shouldn’t assume. Person!
PianoPuck18: You’re correct. Yes, I think I am a Renaissance Man of sorts. I play less piano now, but I still enjoy it. Any special meaning behind your name?
DiddyLiddy: Nothing special other than it rhymes. My parents’ nickname for me growing up was Liddy.
PianoPuck18: That’s cool. So, you play Hero Seek a lot?
DiddyLiddy: Not as much as I used to. With the adult job and all that.
PianoPuck18: Ah yes, the good ol’ adult job. That’s why I don’t play much, either. But I’m excited to get back into it. Just promise me you won’t get too upset if I fuck it up for us.
DiddyLiddy: Absolutely not. I have seen some toxic people in this game, and I wouldn’t do that to another person. I’ll cheer you on for all your accomplishments. Yay!! You didn’t trip over that stick!!
PianoPuck18: lol thanks. Oh, I forgot to ask. Support or Offense?
DiddyLiddy: Support, if that’s okay. My main’s Esser.
PianoPuck18: Works for me. I play Offense usually anyway. My main’s Alliana.
DiddyLiddy: Ah, the sharpshooter Angel. Good choice. Well, good luck to us, right?
PianoPuck18: Yup!
I wonder if I should ask Liddy to turn on voice chat. I know she’s a complete stranger, but I’ll do a lot better if I can speak commands or instructions to someone instead of typing. I don’t know what it is, but something about Liddy feels really inviting. I don’t know anything about her except her username rhymes in a fun way, but she seems funny and chill. The odds of me ever meeting her are what? In the billions? Why not just ask?
PianoPuck18: Hey, weird question. Do you mind if we used VC? I think it’ll be better for us to tell each other commands if we can speak instead of using the chat.
DiddyLiddy: Sure, why not? Let’s do it.
I take a deep breath and press the “Join Party Voice Chat” button.
“Hey,” I say. “How’s it going?”