Chapter 4
WARD
T he ice rink was alive with energy, from the booming cheers of the crowd to the echoing clangs of sticks colliding with the puck; the tension electric as opposing players skated around the ice, both determined to get the upper hand. A thrilling matchup, Panthers against Falcons, two of the biggest ice hockey teams in the league.
The Falcons were inching ahead, their team working together as a cohesive unit to advance the play. The Panthers were putting up a good fight, but their energy was starting to flag as the third period unfolded.
Ward McKenzie’s heart raced as he skated on the ice, feeling the full weight of a thousand pairs of eyes on him. He had one shot, a chance to bring glory and redemption to the Panthers if he could put the puck in the net in time.
The frigid air engulfed his face like a blanket of icy needles as he dashed towards the goal, determined not to miss this shot.
The roar of the crowd seemed to peel away at his confidence but he pushed forward, visualising every next move in his head. The blades of his skates cut through the heavy layer of frosted ice as he raced towards his destiny, nothing standing between himself and victory but this one defining moment.
He had to make it count.
Then suddenly it all went wrong. Just as Ward shifted position to take the shot, he felt a sudden jolt of pain as his knee gave way beneath him. He stumbled and crashed inelegantly to the ice, the puck sliding harmlessly away from him.
The crowd gasped, a hush falling over the rink as he clutched at his knee in pain.
He’d blown it. In more ways than one.
Two of his teammates skated over to help him off the ice, their faces a mixture of disappointment and sympathy. Ward’s emotions remained between confusion and defeat while he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
As he limped off, he felt the mood of the crowd shift from hopeful anticipation to stunned silence. Could almost feel the disappointment emanating from the stands, and he knew that the Panthers’ chances of winning were done for. He glanced at the scoreboard and his heart sank even further. He had let his team down, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Ward gingerly made his way toward the locker room aided by the medical trainers, barely aware of their words of comfort and sympathy as he replayed the events in his mind. He had been so close; he had seen the goal, had felt it within his grasp …
When they finally reached the locker room, he undressed and removed his equipment, wincing as he tried to put weight on his injured knee. He slowly made his way to the trainer’s table and sat down, grimacing afresh as the medic examined him.
‘It’s not good, man,’ he said. ‘It looks like you’ve torn your ACL. We’ll have to get you to the hospital right away for surgery.’
Ward nodded numbly, his heart sinking as the realization of what had just happened truly began to sink in. He had been so close to making that winning shot.
But it was too late. He had let his team down, and he had let himself down. He’d been presented with one chance to prove himself, one chance to show the world that he still had what it took to compete at the highest level, and he had failed.
Story of his life.
*
‘So how’s rehab coming along?’
Ward’s jaw muscles tightened. His agent was not going to be happy about what he had to say.
‘There’s been a bit of a … setback,’ he admitted.
Bernie Pitwell stared at Ward’s leg, his eyes even more enlarged by the thick-lens glasses he wore. ‘You’re kidding me?! What happened?’
‘Think I came off the crutches too early. Knee went weak and I took a tumble. Nothing too serious; just an unexpected setback, that’s all.’
‘I see,’ the agent murmured, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘But that’s not good, man, not good at all.’
‘You’re telling me.’
Twelve weeks since the injury and he was still reliving that godawful game almost every waking moment. Hell, not even every waking moment. He’d dreamed about it again last night, and it was so real, it was as if it was happening all over again. But no matter how much Ward hoped the dream would change, it always ended the same way.
Failure.
Bernie sat forward. ‘OK, I came here today to run something by you, but now with this … additional development, I don’t think there’s a choice involved. ‘Management’s … not thrilled.’
‘I’m not thrilled either, Bernie. But I didn’t ask for a busted knee to keep me off the team for three months.’
And possibly more now, thanks to that goddamned fall.
‘It’s not just your absence – it’s what’s been going on during that absence too. The board is … concerned.’
Ward sat forward, his eyes wary.
‘Bernie, if there’s one thing you and I both agree on it’s that you never have to toss me a rainbow when you want to give me a hand grenade. There is nobody out there truly concerned about Ward McKenzie – other than you and Coach Lewis.’
‘About your reputation, I mean.’
‘My reputation? I’ve been sitting on the sidelines, bored out of my mind. OK, so I admit I might’ve been going a little overboard on some fun stuff, but it’s no big deal.’
Bernie looked pained when he said, ‘Like that time you had Johnny push you in a wheelchair through Times Square at three in the morning, the two of you half-naked and pumped up on booze and painkillers?’
Ward burst out laughing at the memory of that wild night. ‘He was Forrest and I was Lieutenant Dan.’
‘Doesn’t matter. You can’t do that stuff, make fun of disabled people, I mean.’
‘What the hell, Bernie?’ he said, incredulous. ‘They’re characters … from a movie . What, so even made-up people are getting offended now? And hey, I was using that chair for a while too, and I’m not getting all up on my high horse about it.’
The world truly had gone crazy.
‘I hear you, but that’s how it came across online. And there are way too many examples of similar stuff you’ve done over the years. While once upon a time, your little … stunts were sort of overlooked, the world’s changed, plus you’re older now and supposed to be more mature. A good influence. Fact is, if you want to get back on the ice and keep playing for the Panthers at this stage of your career, you’re going to have to make some changes.’ Bernie peered at him. ‘And maybe use a razor now and again and get a haircut. You look like shit.’
Ward sighed defeatedly. Well, one thing was true; he didn’t feel the same as he used to back in the day. The hangovers were definitely longer and more brutal.
But since his knee got busted, he was going out of his mind with boredom.
‘OK. I’ll tone it down. Definitely. You have my word, Bernie.’ He ran a hand over his chin. ‘And clean up too if it helps.’
His agent grimaced. ‘That’s just for starters, I’m afraid. And your word’s not going to be good enough this time.’
‘What are you talking about? Since when is my word not good enough?’
‘Since that incident at the karaoke bar?’
Ward snorted, shaking his head. ‘The guy was talking trash about Jimmy Buffett, Bernie. America’s greatest folk singer ever and a goddamn hero . What was I supposed to do?’
‘Behave like an adult?’
‘Oh, come on! All I did was give the asshole a little shove but it was like I threw him off the roof or something. It won’t happen again, OK?’
Bernie gave him a long look, then licked his lips. ‘There’s something else.’
‘OK, I know that look and it’s never good. What’s going on?’
‘Management has intimated that you’re already on thin ice, so to speak,’ he said carefully, and Ward’s stomach dropped. He knew his game had been off the last couple of seasons, and yeah since hitting mid-thirties was starting to slow down, but he was still far from being put out to pasture just yet. Physical therapy on the knee was going great and once he got a clean bill of health, he was itching to get back out on the ice and prove that he still had it.
But thanks to that latest goddamn tumble, his recovery would be delayed by a few more weeks.
‘The Panthers want to fire me? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Of course not; contractually they can’t fire you for a busted knee. But we don’t want to give Craig Sumners or the top brass ammunition in any other areas … ’
‘You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Bernie,’ Ward said. Was the team owner losing faith in him because of the injury, or something else?
He hated all this dancing around. Why couldn’t anyone just come out and say what was on their minds anymore? What the hell happened to straight talk and home truths?
After a pause Bernie said, ‘Coach Lewis and I both agree that you need to get your reputation cleaned up—’ he inhaled ‘—so I went ahead and hired a public relations firm.’
Ward’s eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding. You know how I feel about PR, Bernie. Why would you do something like that?’
‘Because you leave me no choice. If you want to salvage what’s left of your playing years, you’re going to have to change your attitude and fix your image. We’ve pretty much discovered that you’re not able to handle that on your own,’ he said pointedly. ‘Which is why we’re hiring professionals.’
Ward snorted. ‘ We’re? You mean I have to pay for this shit too?’ But as much as Bernie loved him, he knew his agent wouldn’t be doing this out of the goodness of his own heart.‘Professionals,’ he repeated, disgusted. ‘PR people are nothing but a bunch of leeches, you know that. Clean up my image? All they’re gonna do is try to turn me into someone that I’m not. I’m WildCat McKenzie, damn it.’
‘You’ll still be WildCat McKenzie,’ Bernie soothed. ‘Just a shinier, more public-friendly version.’