Chapter 10
JAYDEN
Our season started as expected. We lost our home opener and then lost again on the road in Edmonton. Somehow, we managed a win against St. Louis at home. Now we’re on the road again with back-to-backs in Dallas and Chicago.
We leave Vancouver Wednesday morning so we have a day in Dallas for a short practice and then the rest of the day off.
It would be a good time to hang out together and do some team bonding, but a lot of the guys disappear to their rooms. Some of them bring their game systems on trips, which is fun but doesn’t help bring us together.
What would happen if the team said no more gaming on road trips and forced us to socialize with each other? Probably a mutiny.
I like gaming, too, but it seems weird to me to do that in a hotel room when there are things to see in a different city.
So I corral a few guys—LG, Cammy, and Sammy—into coming with me to a funky neighbourhood where we can wander around.
We go into a sporting goods store but, of course, it’s almost all baseball stuff.
We browse through a few vintage shops and an art gallery and end up at a barbecue restaurant for dinner.
It’s a wide-open, noisy place with wood and brick walls and the menu on a chalkboard, but holy shit, the food is amazing.
It’s hard not to overdo it on brisket and ribs and mac and cheese.
LG’s pretty down. He was made captain of the team this year, which caused some ruffled feathers for Abby, who was captain the last three years.
It’s been a challenge not only because of our losing record but because LG had to take on a leadership role with some guys who don’t think it should be him.
“Our defence sucks,” he says, looking at the rib in his hands as if it personally wronged him.
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“At least you show up,” he says. “Our goaltending hasn’t been great either. Fuck, I hate saying it. Frosty was shaky the other night.”
“It’s confidence,” I say. “We gotta play better in front of him. And I include myself in that.”
“Not me,” Cammy says with a scowl. He’s my new defence partner.
“You’re not perfect, man,” I say.
He gives me a disdainful look. His superior attitude because he came from a Stanley Cup winning team to this is annoying. Then again, I can’t totally blame him.
“You played great against the Rams,” LG says to Sammy.
Sammy gives a crooked smile. “Thanks. Not everyone agreed.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You mean Bish.”
He drops his eyes.
“What did he say to you?” I saw them having some kind of discussion as we were leaving the ice.
“Nothing.”
I don’t want to force it, but the fact that he won’t tell us means it was something shitty.
“How’s your knee?” I ask him.
Last year, he played with tendinitis from Christmas break to the end of the season. It slowed him down and affected his performance. After starting the season with fifty-five points in forty-nine games, I think he only managed about twenty points in the last thirty-three games of the season.
“It’s good,” he says. “I needed the time off over the summer. Just needed rest.”
I hope that’s true. He never said anything about the knee until near the end of the season last year and, of course, everyone was on his ass about how he was playing. Especially Bish.
I catch LG’s eye and I know we’re thinking the same things.
“What do we have to do to beat Dallas tomorrow night?” I ask.
“They have a great forecheck,” Sammy says. “We need to use the neutral zone when their forecheck breaks down. Move the puck fast.”
“Finn can do that,” I say.
“Agree,” LG says. “But we need all four lines going. Not just him. We need to tire them out.”
Coach has Finn on the fourth line. Which is fair, since he’s a rookie and we don’t know what he can do. But I think he can play better than Faraz, who’s on the third line on the wing. I’m not the coach, though.
“And avoid penalties. Stay disciplined. Their PP is hot,” LG says.
Who takes the most penalties on the team? Bish.
“Yeah, good reminder,” I reply.
We talk more strategy. It’s frustrating when we know what needs to be done, but can’t make it happen on the ice. I feel encouraged by our new coach and it’s still early in the season so I’m trying not to get down in the dumps about it.
After dinner, we head outside again. It’s dark now, but the street is crowded with people.
Lights are everywhere and live music is playing down the block, so we stroll that way to take it in.
It’s a great atmosphere, vibrant and fun.
We can’t stay too late though, so we Uber back to the hotel around ten.
In my room, I pick up my phone and find Stella in my contacts. I’ve texted her a bunch of times this week. Every text from her lifts my mood. And makes me impatient to see her again.
I stretch out on the bed and text her.
Jayden
I can’t get you out of my head. And I’m not even mad about it.
It doesn’t take long for her to reply.
Stella
You need to be thinking about hockey.
Jayden
I do. But you’re my favourite distraction.
She sends back a smile emoji.
Stella
How is Dallas?
Jayden
Fun. We went out for dinner in a cool neighbourhood. Talked about hockey, so there.
Stella
Good
Jayden
How is work going this week
Stella
There’s always something.
Jayden
That doesn’t sound good
Stella
One of our lead software engineers gave his notice. We had a hard time recruiting him and now we have to start over
Jayden
Damn. Sorry.
Stella
Part of the job.
Jayden
How many employees do you have
Stella
Almost 100 now.
Jayden
Wow. Big business.
Stella
Not that big. And I had to do an interview for BNN Bloomberg which I did not have time for today.
Jesus. I lower my phone for a moment. What am I doing trying to shoot my shot with this woman? She is so out of my league, it’s pathetic. I contemplate my next message being, Congrats! Bye! or just deleting and blocking her. And walking Frank in a different park for the rest of his life.
I’m a pretty confident guy. Sure, that’s taken a bit of a beating the last few years playing for a losing team, but I know I’m a decent hockey player.
Not the best in the NHL, but solid. And people usually like me.
I’m fun to be around and a good guy (he says modestly).
Coaches like me. Teachers liked me. Teammates like me.
And women like me. I don’t usually question myself when it comes to women.
That’s what happens when you play in a smallish hockey town where girls are obsessed with hockey players.
But Stella… as much as I’m attracted to her, I’m also intimidated. She’s gorgeous. Smart. Also confident.
I’m uncomfortably aware that although I might be a good hockey player, I haven’t been giving my best to this team the last couple of years.
Which means I haven’t been giving my best to myself.
Part of hockey culture is that it’s better to fit in than to stand out.
Don’t make waves. It’s all about the team.
I’ve done it my whole hockey career.
Most of my hockey career. I get that uncomfortable belly knot that materializes when I think of that. That knot of guilt.
I lift my phone and stare at the screen. I don’t deserve this woman. But I want to. I want to be better. I’ve already been thinking about that in terms of my hockey career. Am I delusional to think I could be good enough for Stella?
Probably.
Why am I making such a big deal of this? We’ve gone out once.
Jayden
That’s impressive! Can’t wait to read the article.
Stella
It’s not that exciting.
I’m worried I’m not good enough for her and she’s being all modest.
Jayden
Hey don’t be like that. You’re amazing. If you didn’t know, I’m kind of…
My thumbs pause on the screen. What’s the right word here? Obsessed? Fascinated? Thirsty? Nope, nope, nope. Finally I finish…
Jayden
interested
Fuck. I scowl at the ceiling. That doesn’t sound enough. But I don’t want to sound too much. I like being honest, but too much honesty can get you into trouble.
Her reply takes a moment.
Stella
We should talk when you get back.
What does that mean? Fuck! Texting sucks.
Jayden
Okay sure. Can’t wait to see you Saturday.
Stella
Good luck tomorrow
Jayden
Thanks. Goodnight. I’ll probably dream about you. But not in a creepy way.
Stella
Goodnight
I drop my phone onto the bed beside me and let out a long exhalation as a band tightens around my chest.
Back home, I spend Friday afternoon at an arena in Coquitlam.
I’ve met with this team before, a U18AAA team.
They’ve been going through the training program through Best Men, a nationwide program.
I’m not here to teach; they have trained facilitators for that.
I’m here to talk about my own experiences and encourage the guys to talk about theirs.
I also helped the organization develop the scenarios so they’re specific to things a hockey team might encounter.
I’ve learned a lot from being at these sessions.
Sometimes, it’s hard to know how much impact we’re having on the others, but I figure if one kid takes something away from this, it’s worth it.
They’ve learned about sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rape culture. Today, it’s bystander intervention.
Craig, the facilitator, opens with, “Has anyone here heard of the bystander effect?”
The young guys all shake their heads.
“Jayden, wanna explain that?”
“Sure.” I look around the room to make some eye contact.
“The bystander effect is when people don’t offer help to someone in need when other people are around.
Have you ever seen something happening that you’re not comfortable with and wondered if you should do something?
” I look around again and see some nods. “Think about it for a minute.”
We pause for that.
“Why do you think when more people are around, fewer people are willing to help? Like, what’s the reason the bystander effect happens? No judgment,” I add. “You don’t have to share your specific story if you don’t want.”
“There’s probably someone there who’s more qualified to help than I am,” one young man says.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Maybe that person doesn’t really need help,” another one says. “My mom tried to help when she saw two boys in our neighbourhood fighting. One kid was big and the other was little and she was worried something bad was going on. Turned out they were just friends horsing around.”
“Then you could be embarrassed,” I comment. “If that happens.”
“Yeah.”
“But what if they weren’t friends? What if something really bad was happening? Maybe it’s better to be a little embarrassed than to ignore it.”
Another speaks up. “Maybe the person getting hurt deserves it. Like, he just stole something.”
I nod again.
“It’s not my business,” another boy says.
I nod. “It happened to me. Back when I played in the WCHL, I saw a lot of things going on. There were hazing rituals for the rookies and a lot of them were abusive.” I tell them my story of witnessing abuse. It’s not the whole story, but it’s enough to get their attention.
Craig takes over again and tells them what they’re going to learn today: questions to ask themselves about a situation when they see it and then steps they can take to help. “And then we’ll finish with some practice.”
“Oh man, not role playing,” one boy says with a groan.
I grin. “I know, I hate it too, but it really is the best way to learn.”
We talk about questions to ask when you see something, specific things to do in different situations, and communication strategies for intervening.
Then we get into specific scenarios, ones that I helped develop from my own experiences.
Some are more urgent, like when someone is at risk of physical or emotional harm, others less so.
“Like locker room talk,” I say. This usually stirs up a vigorous conversation.
“Locker room talk isn’t all bad,” one kid says. “If it stays in the locker room, it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“You think?” I look around.
“It can hurt someone in the room,” one guy says quietly. “He might not know they’re talking about him, if they don’t know everything about him.”
“Yeah. Exactly.” We talk more about that, then I say, “Do you think it can normalize thoughts and behaviours that are toxic? Like objectifying women?”
We talk about things they can say if they feel uncomfortable about something a teammate is saying.
Then we talk about more serious things: like seeing a teammate abusing alcohol or drugs, or abusing a girl.
Or a teammate. And the specific strategies to use in those situations, like maybe distracting the abuser to buy time, or delegating to get someone else to help, too.
“How can we distract someone?” one kid asks about that strategy.
“There are a few strategies. One is, start a conversation about something else with the abuser,” I suggest. “Accidentally spill your drink or drop something. Create some kind of commotion.”
The guys get into all of this in hilarious ways during the role playing, but that’s good. They’re learning.
Helping these kids helps me as much as it does them.
The guilt I’ve carried around for the last eight years or so feels a little less burdensome, a little less raw.
I know nothing I do can change the past but I feel like helping others might make up for my spinelessness back then, in some small way.
And I’m learning, too, if I face a situation like that again.
I’d like to believe I’m a better person now, even though sometimes I worry… I’m not.