Home of the Brave (Stars, Stripes, and Hockey Nights #13)

1. Victoria

VICTORIA

Iwas being tested. My patience, perseverance, and limits.

If I wasn’t positive my boss didn’t hate me, I would have serious doubts because this was it. This was my breaking point.

Men’s college basketball.

March Madness.

The bane of my existence.

I did not care. I did not enjoy it. I did not want to be here.

Basketball was not my sport.

Men’s teams were not my specialty.

I was a women’s hockey correspondent.

I did not belong here.

I swear, basketball players smelled worse than hockey players. Not sure how, since they didn’t wear all the padding, but I was having to cover my nose discreetly with my hand so I could inhale my lotion instead of sweaty boy stench.

“Last question!” the team’s manager called.

I raised my free hand, only because it was expected, and let out a relieved sigh when I wasn’t chosen.

Oh darn. Sorry, Chris, just wasn’t in the cards. My boss would simply have to understand.

I didn’t have the same pull here as literally any arena with ice.

My connections, background, and talents were all wasted on this assignment.

Stupid Trevor and his stupid wedding.

He actually cried––literal tears––in Chris’s office when he realized he couldn’t be here. His fiancée got the weeks mixed up and accidentally booked their bachelor and bachelorette parties, rehearsal dinner, and wedding day throughout the end of March instead of the beginning.

He was devastated.

I was proud of her. There was no way she hadn’t done it on purpose.

But that meant I was stuck listening to the most annoying squeaky sounds in the world and watching the biggest babies in athletics––minus professional men's soccer players––play the most boring sport ever…for weeks.

Seriously, raise the hoops and make the courts bigger. The genetically modified giants playing these days, even in college, aren’t being challenged.

Scoring over a hundred points a game shouldn’t be the norm.

It’s boring. It's predictable. It’s too easy for them.

Chris was well aware of my stance on this sport, yet here I was. Still responsible for covering it.

And he had the audacity to remind me to leave my bias out of my words.

I was a professional.

Of course, I would set aside my feelings and be factual.

Like the fact of how many so-called penalties were actually just tantrums thrown by grown men.

Or the fact that not a single player would last thirty seconds on the ice, for even a hockey practice, let alone a game.

Nope. I could keep all that out of my interviews.

Finally, I turned off my digital recorder and dropped it in my bag as I stood to leave with the rest of the journalists squished into the media room.

As soon as I got back to my hotel, I plopped onto the bed with my laptop and typed out the driest, but factual, overview of the games of the day and sent it to Chris.

With my work out of the way, I turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels until I found a hockey game to watch. I wasn’t a fan of either team, but the familiar sounds soothed my nerves from the day, and I picked up my phone to find something for dinner to be delivered.

It wasn’t until I was midway through my ramen when my phone lit up with a call from Darcy, a fellow journalist I’d become friends with over the years working in the industry.

“Hey girl,” I held my phone to my cheek with my shoulder and took another bite of noodles.

“Are you coming?” Her excitement had me putting my food on the nightstand.

“What are you talking about?”

There was a pause. “Did you not get it?”

I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “Get what?”

“The summer tournament.”

I ran through every possibility of what she was talking about, but had no clue.

“You didn’t hear?” She must have taken my silence as my answer.

“No, I’ve been watching basketball all day and haven’t––”

“The NHL and PWHL have joined together and are putting on a summer tournament this year.”

I made a sound between a scoff and a laugh, too confused to speak.

“Two teams for each, representing the West and East. They haven’t released the roster yet, but I’m betting most of the Olympians will be playing in it.”

I was still too stunned.

A special summer tournament? Right after the Winter Olympics, where both of the USA teams brought home gold? It was too much. Hockey fans were never this blessed. We were generally overlooked and left begging for more.

“Men and women?" I finally got out. “Seriously?”

The women were all too often forgotten, but taking home gold at the Olympics had pushed them into stardom, and I was so happy focus would continue to be put on them.

“Yes! I don’t have any more information yet, but you have to cover it!”

“I’m assuming that means you are, too.”

“I asked, well more like begged, and I pointed out my existing relationships with the players, especially after the Olympics, and they said they would take that into consideration.”

“I need to call my boss.” I refused to let anyone else get this event.

“Get on it! From what I’ve heard, it starts as soon as finals are over.”

“Thanks, Darcy.”

We hung up, and I immediately called my boss.

“Victoria, I haven’t had a chance to read––”

“I’m not calling about that,” I interrupted.

“Is everything okay?” He sounded distracted.

“Have you heard about the summer hockey tournament? Men’s and women’s––”

“Yes,” he cut me off this time. “How did you already hear about it? The announcement was only sent out a few minutes ago.”

“I never reveal my sources.” I couldn’t stop my smile. If he was just hearing about it, he hadn’t had a chance to assign it yet.

“I’d like to take it.”

He sighed. “Of course you would.”

I ignored his exasperation. “After the Olympics, I ha––”

“You did a great job, yes, I remember. But with it being a special event, I’m only sending one person. I’ll need them to cover both the men’s and women’s teams.”

I cringed. I preferred to work with the women, but for this opportunity I could push that aside.

“I’ll do it. I know the guys really well, too.”

“You just hate them.” His tone was flat.

I cringed. “Hate is such a strong word.”

“That you frequently use to describe your feelings toward them.”

Oh, so he did listen when I vented? “They can be such divas!”

I could see him closing his eyes and punching the bridge of his nose, his go-to when we had this argument.

“Look, the network already decided it’s a one-person assignment. I might not even be able to swing a videographer.”

“They want text only?” That seemed incredibly stupid and a huge missed opportunity for video content.

“As of right now,” he paused. “Look, we don’t have any information on what this is. Just that something is happening, not when or where or how long. I won’t be making any decisions until we have more details.”

“Please, Chris,” I whined. I was not above begging. “I’m here watching basketball for you.”

He chuckled. “The horror.”

“It is.” I shivered. “You owe me.”

“You got the Olympics.”

“Because I earned it. Just like I’ve earned this.” I crossed my fingers. “Please.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I fell back onto the bed. It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it wasn’t a no. “I’m sure you’ll pick the best person to represent our department at such a monumental event.”

“I will.”

He hung up, and I let the phone slip from my hands.

I wanted this. I really, really did.

A summer hockey tournament. A brand new, never before done event. Women and men competing. This was the dream of any sports journalist.

I had to be there. I had to be a part of history.

Summer was my slowest time of year. I didn’t cover the MLB or MLS; then again, I didn’t cover college basketball, yet here I was. I typically waited around for any hints of trades or league changes while scoping out the next season.

Chris wouldn’t be so cruel as to exclude me.

Unless he sent Bernie. He was the other hockey correspondent, but for men. He was getting older and didn’t like to travel as much as he used to.

He wouldn’t want to spend weeks, or longer, at an undisclosed location in the middle of the hottest time of year. Heat made his gout flare. He’d told me too many times for me to forget that fun bit of information.

No. I was the clear choice.

The squeak of shoes on the court was driving me to my breaking point. I closed my eyes and tried to go to my happy place, but it was unrelenting.

One more day.

This was the final game. I just had to make it a few more hours and grab any interviews I might be able to snag tomorrow as the teams leave, then I was done.

And never watching a basketball game again.

Chris responded to my previous article with a single thumb’s up emoji and had been silent since.

Nearly two full weeks of non-stop coverage from me in my living nightmare, and he hadn’t mentioned the hockey tournament one time.

I wasn’t sure if he’d forgotten, or wanted to make sure I finished this assignment before mentally checking out.

The final buzzer sounded, and the packed arena erupted.

I jotted down the final score and left the press booth.

I was one of four to use it today. Everyone else wanted to be courtside so they could grab sound bites, but that wasn’t required for my articles.

Instead, I kept my distance and hurried to a quiet office I’d discovered on the first week.

I’d done a pre-write this morning so I could quickly fill in the details of the game and have it submitted to Chris within minutes of the ending making us the first, or one of the first, major outlets to have it posted.

I didn’t bother waiting for his confirmation. He’d skim it to check for any errors and have it up on the site as quickly as possible.

I refreshed the screen four times until finally it appeared on Sports Now’s homepage.

Done.

My body went slack as I dropped my head back and let out a breath I’d been holding for over a month.

Then my phone rang. I felt for it on the table and answered, smiling when I saw his name. “You survived.”

“Barely,” I shot back.

“Thank you. I know this was absolute torture, but you did a great job.” Chris wasn’t generally one to compliment, so I appreciated it. “Which is why you are going to DC.”

“DC?” I straightened. “What’s there?”

“The Stars and Stripes Hockey Tournament.”

I did a little shoulder dance as a smile took over my lips. “Really?”

“Yes, I still don’t have all the details, but we have the location and rough outline. There won’t be much of a break between the end of the season and this. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes, of course.” The more hockey in my life, the better.

“I figured.” I could hear him typing. “I’ll forward what I have so far, but we can discuss more when you’re back in the office.”

“Great, I’ll see you soon.”

As soon as we hung up, I sent a quick text to Darcy letting her know I would, in fact, be coming.