Chapter 3 #2
Out of awkward habit, I check my phone for the time. There’s a short buffer before Eric and I will be expected for the Goalie Q&A session. I rise from the table with my empty plate in hand. “I should probably head up and grab my jacket before the event.”
Eric nods. “Alright, I’ll see you later.”
The Q&A session is held in a convention hall attached to the hotel. Atop the stage, each of the eight All-Star Weekend goalies sit at a long table with their name and team placard in front of them. Eric sits on my right, and the goalie Callahan picked instead of me sits on my left.
I’ve never participated in a large Q&A session, at least as a panel member.
I went to a few fan conventions in college, but those were usually for TV shows or movies.
I hope the questions will focus on just hockey and goaltending and that the event’s staff will be quick to step in should anything become too personal or off-topic.
The panel host, Paul “the Wall” Vesper, sits at the far end of the table and introduces himself to the audience in typical fashion.
He’s a retired goaltender and well-known figure in hockey media who cohosts a talk show on ESPN called Hot Takes, Cold Ice.
The show keeps fans engaged by announcing breaking news around the league and providing in-depth hockey analysis.
“...Fans from around the world submitted questions to this panel. We hope to ask as many as we can today. Is everyone excited?” After the audience responds with resounding enthusiasm, Paul gestures to the panel and grins. “Let’s start by having each of you introduce yourselves!”
Each of the goalies state their name and what team they normally play for during the regular season.
Most of the players earn a healthy amount of applause from the audience (after all, they were either voted in by fans or picked for their merit), but Eric rightfully steals the show when it’s his turn.
The first half of the Q&A focuses on hockey and the art of goaltending.
Many of the questions come from amateur goalies looking to learn tips and tricks from the best to use in their own leagues, and most have straightforward answers.
During the second half, however, the session takes a tonal shift, switching from serious to lighter.
This round of questions ranges from silly to unusual.
I guess I can’t fault the organizers for tapping into the stereotypes about goalies: that we’re all to some extent weird or quirky.
“Eric, we all know you’re a big fan of the great outdoors. What’s the one thing you always take camping?”
Eric lets out a sheepish laugh. “Jeez. I can only pick one?” The audience chuckles along with him. “Well, in that case, I guess the keys to my trailer. My friend Brayden won’t join me for trips unless we’re camping in style.”
“Nothing like bringing a little slice of home with you!”
Then Paul shifts to me. “So James, we received a ridiculous amount of submissions asking what’s on everyone’s mind—where’s the best place in Chicago to order deep dish pizza?”
“Well, there’s a place not far from the Comets’ barn that’s pretty good.”
Here’s hoping if fans flock to the restaurant, they’ll at least tip well.
“And a follow up question—pineapple on pizza. Sacrilege or sacrament?”
I snort. “I know better than to touch that question with a ten foot pole.”
“Fair, fair. Online speculation and debate will simply have to continue.”
Compared to some of the other sillier questions asked of the other goalies on stage, Eric and I got off easy. Some of the questions border on cringeworthy, but the remaining goalies manage with grace.
“And we’re onto our last question, folks, and this one’s for each of you to answer: If you had to pick a player currently in the league to have on your fantasy hockey roster, who would you choose and why?”
A majority of the names dropped by the goalies are of players who are also here at All-Star Weekend, predominantly defenseman. Go figure goalies would appreciate their backup on defense. Wes Harper’s name comes up once, with the reason being his unrivaled talent and youth.
“I’d have to say Braydan Beaumont from the Seadogs,” Eric says when it’s his turn to answer. “There’s no one I trust more to handle trouble in the defensive zone.”
Eric’s answer doesn’t surprise me. Beaumont is well known for protecting his teammates, putting his body on the line to stop pucks, and leading by example as the Seadogs’ captain.
With Eric finished, it’s my turn to answer the final question. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one right answer. Under the table, I clench and unclench my hands, trying my best to muster confidence, but there’s no easy way to admit the words aloud.
“Well, uh, you know…” As the words rush out, my heart hammers hard in my chest. “You always need a goalie you can rely on. A good goalie makes good saves, but a great goalie makes you think they were intended.” I gesture to the man beside me, earning a few awws from the crowd.
“Eric Sinclair’s the best, so I’d have to pick him. ”
My answer earns applause from both the audience and the panel.
I lean away from the microphone, glad that it’s over.
I try to maintain a stoic, calm front and not reveal too much in front of the crowd of fans and sports media who will hyperanalyze every interaction, every microexpression.
It’s not easy. It’s never been easy. I’m too much an open book.
All I can hope is the words inside will be written in some archaic language no one will be able to understand.
After a short break to handle behind-the-scenes logistics, the Q&A session transitions into an autograph signing. Each team’s pair of goalies are shuttered off to separate booths within the convention hall, with long lines of fans eager to meet their favorite goalie.
The other booths have a healthy line for autographs and photos, but I overheard on a security personnel’s radio that ours leads all the way back into the building’s lobby.
To my surprise, there’s a number of Comets fans who want my signature and a photo.
A young kid from my hometown in Massachusetts even came all the way here with his dad to attend the games just to see me.
He shares about his experience as an up-and-coming goalie and cites me as a huge inspiration, making my heart swell with pride.
I sign his helmet, humbled and honored to be a role model for hockey’s next generation.
It’s surreal how a few decades ago, I was in his shoes.
I also have a front row seat to witness how Eric handles the high demand from fans.
Most people in his position might spend only a few minutes—probably far less if the event staff had their way—with each person.
Eric makes the most of the limited time.
He listens to stories from fans, ranging from kids to adults who share why they love hockey, if they’re goalies themselves for their own local leagues, and if they have a favorite clutch save from one of Eric’s past games.
Further, there was a limited giveaway of Eric Sinclair bobbleheads at the Q&A panel for the first 500 fans in line, and several people now patiently wait to have the man himself sign theirs.
I’m jealous. I couldn’t get one because I was on the panel.
I thought about asking the event staff if I could have one, but I would have never been able to live the embarrassment down.
No doubt I’ll end up having to pay a reseller online if I hope to add one to my collection.
For the two hour block, there’s no lull in the steady stream of hockey enthusiasts.
Eric has no qualms making sure each person who waited in line doesn’t walk away with nothing.
Forty-five minutes after the meet’n’greet should have ended, Eric and I send off the final starry-eyed fan with a fresh pair of signatures on their All-Star jersey.
“That was crazy,” I admit, overwhelmed by the whole ordeal once it’s just the two of us and event staff wrapping up. “Is it always like this for you?”
“Pretty much, but I don’t mind. I enjoy meeting fans.”
My eyes drift to what might be the last remaining Eric Sinclair bobblehead which was used for display purposes.
It rests at the edge of the table, unpackaged, taunting me, whispering ideas like some kind of cursed idol.
Eric catches me staring at it with laser focus.
He shifts in his chair, swinging around to face me, and gestures with a nod to the figurine.
“You can have it if you don't mind it being out of the box.”
I’ve never been a collector who keeps items sealed, hidden away in their packaging. Being out of the box is hardly a flaw in my eyes. A collectible’s a collectible, and I have every intention of putting this one on display… but Eric doesn’t need to know all of those gritty details.
“Really? You sure? You don’t want one for yourself?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He smiles, his green eyes full of mischief as he offers the bobblehead. “You, on the other hand…”
Up close, the figurine has many of Eric’s little details. The paint job is well-done, vivid in its display of the blue Seattle Seadogs jersey. The bobblehead’s figure is on the wider side, showing off the bulk of his goalie gear, excluding his helmet.
“What can I say, it looks just like you,” I tease, trying to play it cool despite being caught red-handed as a hopeless fanboy.
Eric snorts. “You really think?” He flicks the oversized head, causing it to wiggle and bounce.
“Sure. It has your smile.”
“Oh, my smile?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair with a raised brow, playfully keeping his expression stoic.
“Well you know, it’s just the way you are on the ice.
You’re always so happy. Like you actually enjoy being a goalie and are having fun.
You make the job seem so effortless, so fluid.
Whenever the camera pans to you after a big save, you’re grinning ear to ear.
” I run a hand over my face to hide the pink in my cheeks.
“I’m just… I’m just a big fan of yours—for your goaltending, I mean,” I stammer, “but your smile’s great too. ”
On cue, Eric’s smile appears, growing wider by the second, causing me to flounder more.
“Sorry, that probably sounded super lame.”
“Never apologize for being genuine. I’m flattered,” he reassures. “Especially after what you said during the panel. That was nice of you to say.”
In front of Eric, I wish I was wearing my helmet. The longer this exchange goes on, the more my face and ears burn. Thank God it’s just the two of us.
“Well you’re a great goalie.” My hold on the bobblehead tightens. “And thanks, you know, for this. I’ve been collecting hockey memorabilia since I was a kid.”
“Of course. Keep him safe.”
No kidding. This figurine will have a long journey to make it home.
“You want to grab something for lunch?” Eric suggests, catching me by surprise. “We have plenty of time before the games later tonight. On me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Let me,” he insists with a tone which leaves no room for debate.
Before we head out, there’s one last thing I need to do before the morning’s over. I know I’m pushing my luck with the universe, I’m being greedy, but…
“Could we… Could we get a photo together?”
“Sure.”
I flag down one of the event staff workers who happen to pass by and give them my phone.
Eric and I move closer, meeting in the middle of the table.
I run a quick hand through my hair for good measure, and then I put on my best smile.
To my utmost shock, Eric drapes his arm around my shoulder for a tight squeeze.
“Say cheese!”
And then it’s done.
“I took a few,” the worker says, handing back my phone. “Hopefully they look okay?”
I swipe through the photos. Okay? They’re more than okay. They’re perfect. I show Eric my phone, and he smiles, pleased.
“Those look great. Would you mind sending me a copy? I’d like them too.”
My heart stutters in my chest. Oh God, does that mean…?
Eric reaches into his pocket for his phone.
Yes, it means exactly what I think it means.
He swipes his thumb over the screen and then offers it to me unlocked.
His home screen has a picture of himself and Elizabeth, both dressed in their goalie gear.
Fingers shaking, I open up the Contacts app, create a new listing, and type in my number.
When I’m finished, I double-check the information three times, lingering with the fear I’ve somehow typed it wrong.
When I’m certain it’s correct, I give it back to him, our fingers briefly brushing together.
Eric types something on his phone and then my own buzzes, confirming my number works with the first message I’ve ever received from him.
Eric
You’re now subscribed to Daily Goalie Facts. Type STOP to no longer receive messages. Type CONTINUE to receive further messages.
I snort and type back.
Me
CONTINUE
Eric
As per section 9, rule 67.5 of the official NHL rulebook, a pulled goaltender may not leave behind his stick, equipment, pile of snow, or any obstructions within his crease.
“I thought that it was obvious you can’t leave behind an angry snowman in our stead or you’d give the other team an automatic point. Who would even try something like that?”
“Long story.” Eric chuckles. “Just so you know, I’m big on texting, so don’t be a stranger.”
I send him the pictures the worker took of us and cradle the bobblehead to my chest. His phone pings shortly after, and that’s when it hits me—we have each others’ numbers now.
I don’t know what I’ll do, living with the temptation of having Eric only a phone call or text message away.
I’m not sure I’m responsible enough for that kind of power.
“There’s this Mexican restaurant around the corner that makes the best enchiladas you’ll ever have, promise,” he explains, rising to his feet. “I take the guys out every time we’re in LA.”
“Alright,” I say, brimming with excitement. “Lead the way.”