Chapter 28 Static
Twenty-Eight. Static
Patrick
Trust the universe to choose this moment for when the League of Hockey Tournament organisers needed to gather everyone in Delhi for the weekend. I’ve just gotten Tamara back into my arms and I’m being dragged away again. At least it’s out of our control and not something either of us caused.
On the other hand, I’m also relieved I’m not in Chennai right now.
Last night I woke up in a cold sweat and couldn’t go back to sleep.
I repacked my bags to fight off the spiral and after a quick breakfast with my girl, I was on the plane.
While it’s not an official diagnosis, high-functioning depression is quite exhausting.
I’ve always been the kind of person who works through the hard shit and even when my brain is collapsing in on itself, I keep on pushing.
Then one day everything snaps. Usually when this happens, I call Dom and he talks me through breathing exercises. I’m not sure I’ll have the time.
As for why they called this emergency meeting?
Two LHT players were arrested for getting into a huge brawl.
They’re both in the hospital, one with a broken leg and the other in a coma.
While fights like this probably do happen in a lot of other sports, it’s rare for it to happen with field hockey players.
What makes it worse is this happened before the tournament, so we’re not sure if it’s still going to happen as planned.
We’re on the second day of discussions and I’m ready to go home.
So I can be with Tamara, but also politics is not why I got into sports.
As an athlete, I play and keep my head down and don’t do anything stupid.
On the field or pitch we know nothing of what goes on behind the scenes unless it involves us personally. It’s set up that way for a reason.
So being in the room where the decisions are happening is alarming.
I get to see firsthand how disorganised they are and how much shit they talk about each other.
It’s a conference room full of the top brass in hockey, team managers and coaches.
Some of these guys have travelled from their home countries to train the teams, only to be stuffed into a crowded space.
Most are players I looked up to when I was starting out.
“We could postpone the tournament, ensure everything is on the right track before it’s too late,” someone suggests and I nod.
That’s rejected instantly by another manager. “There isn’t enough time to postpone it. The boys need a rest before the Pro League kicks off.”
A round of grumbles starts and I close my eyes as I think about my own schedule.
As a member of the Indian hockey team, I play in every major tournament, unless there’s an emergency or a health issue.
All of January and most of April, I was travelling and playing my heart out.
I got a few months off before we were in Paris and now, I have the rest of the year off.
I still have to train and practise as often as possible, but I’m not playing to win.
However, next year’s schedule is still unclear.
We do have the Pro League tournament from February to June, which includes travelling to Europe.
Since it starts around the time when our baby should be born, I’m considering skipping it and joining only for the second half.
While we have a due date, Dr. Gopalan and all the parenting blogs told me it’s only a suggestion.
The baby decides when they want to arrive.
Knowing my kid, it’ll happen when I’m not there.
Then they’ll give Tamara hell while I’m gone.
There’s a reason why I haven’t said anything to her. The minute I mention it, she’ll insist I go play. I know this is my career and I have to do what I was hired for, but she’s my girl. The mother of my child. The fucking love of my life.
The thought startles me and my eyes fly open.
Nobody at the table even noticed I checked out.
Moreover, they still seem to be arguing and getting nowhere.
The familiar tingles start in my fingers and I grind my teeth in hopes of holding it off.
I lean over to let one of the other coaches know I’m heading to my room and to call if there’s anything urgent I need to be a part of.
Quite honestly, they could do this with the managers instead of dragging everyone out of their lives into something so fucking ridiculous.
The solution is simple: cancel it and pick up next year once they have everything in place.
Who am I in this large room? I’m just one of the five people to have won a medal and my opinion doesn’t hold enough weight.
So instead of contributing, I slip out while they’re gesturing wildly and speaking loudly at each other.
The minute I’m outside, the prickle spreads up my arms and my head gets fuzzy.
I blink through the haze and force air into my lungs as I step into the elevator.
When it reaches my floor, I speed walk to my room and once the door is closed, I strip out of my clothes.
My knees buckle as I collapse onto the carpeted floor and curl up into myself.
The noise, vibrates through every part of me.
Every attempt to open my eyes is foiled since I left the bathroom light on and it’s directly in my face.
When I stretch my hand out to find something to ground me, everything irritates my skin.
So I tighten the ball I’m in and squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s not music or static, it’s worse. It’s unidentifiable.
It’s chaos, difficult and messy; it’s silence and darkness.
When it finally fades, I suck in a large gulp of air and flop onto my back.
I stare at the ceiling, taking too long to figure out where I am.
Too long to identify the view above me. The sound of my heartbeat comes into focus first and I blink slowly, letting the rest of the room become clear.
I feel the carpet against my bare skin and drag my fingers over the coarse material as I breathe loudly.
Once my heart feels like it’s not going to leap out of my chest, I sit up and lean against the foot of the bed.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to be in Chennai.
Telling Tamara about it is one thing, but having her see what it feels like?
Dominic reminds me I’m not broken. It’s easy for him to say since he’s not the one struggling.
I want to get myself together before I put Tamara through it and given we’re seeing this through to the end, I don’t want to be at my worst for her.
The buzzing of my phone gets me to my feet and I see a bunch of texts from my fellow coaches letting me know they’re making a final decision tonight.
I want nothing to do with this discussion.
As long as they tell me what’s happening and what I need to do, everything else is unimportant.
I reply with a thumbs up emoji, then text Dom to ask if he has some time for a quick session.
I don’t wait for responses as I head into the bathroom.
I have a long shower that alternates between hot and cold.
The only reason I end it is because I can hear my phone ringing continuously.
It’s the tone I set for Dom, so I know if I don’t respond soon, he’ll probably send the cavalry to find me and none of us want that.
Wrapped up in one of the hotel robes, I return the video call and dry my hair.
“Jesus, Pat. Don’t fucking do that, okay?”
I nod, contrite. “I’m sorry, man. Needed to wash off the day.”
He peers into the phone and I let him analyse me for a few minutes. I don’t let anyone see me like this, certainly not the people I love the most. My family knows I have episodes and depression is one of my biggest demons; I still refuse to let them see me in this state.
“You need water and coffee, get comfortable and call me back.”
I hang up and take my time drying my hair.
I keep it down and tuck it behind my ears while I make myself a large mug of instant coffee.
It would take room service too long to bring me a pot and I just need something to get the edge off.
I take a large sip of water and put it beside my coffee as I call Dominic back.
“I’m sorry about earlier. Feeling a little unsettled and had to shower badly.”
“You’re good, kid. I worry about you is all. How’s Delhi?”
“Fucking ridiculous,” I grumble and he chuckles. “This is what they say ‘could have been an email’. They’ve been in the room all day and I got out while I could.”
“The news is reporting the kid in the coma might not make it.”
Fuck. “Seriously? I hope they cancel the whole thing.”
“So you don’t have to do this job or because it’s the right thing to do?”
Two months ago I would have said it was a combination of the two.
Now that I’ve spent time with the team, built a really good rapport and know everyone well, it’s more of the latter.
I understand the point of the LHT and the impact it will have on future hockey players.
I also believe they should cancel it this year.
If it’s all over the news, that means the rest of the players are also hearing about it.
It’s quite scary to think the least aggressive sport could have so much violence.
Since we don’t know what caused the fight, the right thing is to either cancel or postpone it.
I know the organisers are going to stick to the start date and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.
“The right thing to do, man. I’m actually enjoying the coaching gig now,” I reply and Dom smiles.
“That’s an improvement from when you first got to Chennai.”
I shrug. “What can I say? They grew on me.”
He chuckles. “Okay, let’s talk about your future with hockey.”
“Wow, Dom, going straight into the hard stuff today.”
“Gotta find your safe topic, Pat. Is this it?”
I sigh dramatically, but settle in to talk about me and hockey. “I haven’t spoken to Parth in a few weeks, but nothing’s changed about my place on the Indian team. The bronze keeps me secure for at least another year.”
“How long do you wanna keep playing?”
“I haven’t thought about it seriously yet. I’d love to be in LA in 2028, but I might be too old.”
“Nihal will be forty too and he’s the captain.”
“Exactly. They haven’t said anything to either of us. I’m unclear if they’re waiting for us to make a move or something.”
Over the last few months when we’ve talked, it’s been focused entirely on Reach for the Stars and not about our hockey careers.
It’s been really easy to not talk about the stuff that scares me.
I’ve never considered my life after hockey.
Now I have Tamara and our baby, they’re already filling me with so much joy.
That’ll continue even after I’m done. Right?
I release a shaky breath as the image of her standing at the front door when I left fills my head.
Her mouth was turned down as she stood there in one of my T-shirts.
“Whoa, what happened?”
I blink and shake my head. “Just…I want to go home.”
“So go. What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing. Everything?”
He leans forward and peers into the screen. “You want to get back to your girl, Pat. Then do it. You’ve made your appearances and your opinions clear. Go home.”
“Yeah. I’ll uh…talk to you in a few days?”
He nods and disconnects the call. I instantly load up the airline website to see if I can get a flight out tonight.
After thirty minutes of scrolling through all the airlines, I discover that to get home soon, I’ll have to fly Delhi to Mumbai, Mumbai to Chennai and still only reach a day later.
I do another run through and then slam my laptop shut as my phone pings twice.
When I retrieve it from the bed, I smile at Tamara’s name. Sometime in the last forty-eight hours, she changed her contact name.
Daddy’s Girl
When do you get home? I’m lonely.
[image attached of a wet, bright purple dildo]
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself and dial her number.
“Hi, Daddy.”
She sounds like she’s been fucked and I’m annoyed it’s happening without me. “I see someone’s been keeping busy.”
She laughs and the sound makes me smile. “Did you know this is the first time I’ve masturbated in months?”
“How come?”
“There was nothing going on in my life to turn me on. Then you walk back in and suddenly I’m horny all the time.”
I groan and collapse onto the bed. She sounds husky and dangerous. “I think this hotel bathroom has seen enough of me jerking off to you, Lotus.”
“That’s why you should come home and jerk off onto me.”
I sit up with a start and my lips spread into a smile. It’s the first time I’ve felt this light since I left home two days ago.
“I have something to tide us over until I’m home tomorrow. Got your laptop or iPad close by?”
“Yeah.”
“Make sure your vibrator’s charged, Lo. And pull up FaceTime. Back in a minute.”