Chapter 24
TYLER
THE POETRY ALL ALONG
THE MUSKIES ON THE EVE OF THE WINTER CLASSIC
Reported by Arush Lakhani
This afternoon, at Camp Randall Stadium, the Madison Muskies held a brief practice, and tomorrow, they will host the Winter Classic. After months of preparation, the time has come for the Muskies to face off against the Minnesota Moose in front of their hometown fans.
But first, the players enjoyed a family skate with their loved ones, a time-honored tradition to share this moment in a player’s career with the people who matter most to them.
“I’m from the area,” said defenseman John Moore, who had his infant daughter strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. “Going to Badgers games in this stadium is a huge part of life growing up in Madison. It’s an amazing opportunity to get to play here, and to give our fans this experience.”
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” rookie Oliver Campbell said. “The whole city is buzzing and excited, and it’s great that it’s a conference game. We’re ready to go out there and play hard.”
When I asked the players about the recent events that led to speculative articles and comments about their captain, Jamie Sullivan, and his partner, I was met with a consistent message.
“We stand by Sully and Tyler,” team veteran and alternate captain Hugo Andersson told me. “He is a good captain. Takes care of everyone who is team [sic].”
“Sully is the best,” said defenseman Elias Svensson. “The team missed him when he was injured. We are so very happy to have him back.”
While tomorrow's main event will no doubt be the on-ice rivalry between Madison and Minnesota, the Muskies players have organized an accompanying charity drive in an effort to give back to those less fortunate in the Madison area
“We’re hosting a coat drive,” said forward Cooper Bell.
“There will be donation bins set up both in and around the stadium. We hope anyone with extra children’s winter wear will consider bringing them tomorrow.
We will donate them to local organizations who make sure they end up with the kids who need them most.”
When I got the chance to speak with Jamie Sullivan, he was standing hand in hand with his partner, Tyler Raymond, holding Tyler’s young son in his arms. They were all smiles in their team jackets, matching the rest of the families.
“This is an amazing moment for the Muskies,” Sullivan said.
“And we are committed to making this a memorable game for the fans. As for me, I’m just trying to take it all in.
Playing hockey professionally is a gift, and getting to share this moment with the people who matter to me is something I’ll never take for granted. ”
“It’s really good to have Sully back,” said forward Matt Lee. “He’s the kind of player who impacts everything around him on the ice. When he’s out there, everyone plays better. We’ve missed that.”
While the Muskies might be enjoying a skate under the stadium lights with their families tonight, their focus is on the game tomorrow.
When I spoke to goalie Anders Berglund, he mentioned something Sully had said to the team in the locker room. “Sully reminded us that we are a good team and well-positioned to make a deep playoff run. This is a meaningful game, and we plan to walk away with two points.”
“Minnesota is going to underestimate us,” Sullivan said. “And it’s our job to capitalize on that.”
For more details on the coat drive, visit the Muskies website and social media page.
“Don’t you need to be doing something special the night before a game?” Tyler looked back over his shoulder as he seasoned a bowl of chicken thighs marinating in yogurt. “Aren’t superstitions a hockey player thing?”
Across Tyler’s small kitchen, Jamie shrugged. He’d shown up twenty minutes ago in faded sweatpants and a Muskies hoodie, hair still damp from a shower after their last media obligation of the day.
“As long as I eat a big, well-balanced meal and get some good sleep, I’m fine.” He smiled, his gaze dipping down Tyler’s body and then back up to hover over his mouth. “I don’t see why I can’t do that here.”
Tyler looked at his hands. “You don’t have to, if it–”
Hands gripped his hips and the rasp of facial hair brushed against his neck. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m here because I want to be here,” Jamie said, voice low. “I want to make time for you. For us.” He paused. “All of us.”
For a moment, Tyler sank back into Jamie’s warm, steady body.
“Now tell me what the hell you’re doing to this chicken.”
With Jamie still wrapped around him, Tyler explained his seasoning choices. Rowan played happily across the room, narrating some sort of game with his wooden animals, while Tyler and Jamie finished preparing the meal.
Soon they were sitting together at the small table, and Tyler could imagine that this was what their life together would look like.
Jamie jumped right into helping Rowan blow on bites of chicken, roasted cauliflower, and rice, and not a minute later Rowan had crawled onto his lap, and was alternating between shoving chicken into his own mouth and offering Jamie little pieces.
Tyler’s heart melted when Jamie didn’t hesitate to take the offered bites, humming softly in appreciation as he chewed.
“The chicken is amazing,” Jamie said, nudging Tyler’s thigh with his knee under the table. “Next time I have a break will you come over to my place and make some with me? I know you are busy, and now I’m asking you to help me cook, but it’s just so tasty, and spending time with you–”
“Jamie.” Tyler reached out and brushed his thumb over Jamie’s chin. All he wanted to do was touch him, to ease the worry he saw creeping onto Jamie’s face. “I’d love to come over. I know Rowan would, too. Making time goes both ways, you know? I want to make time for you, too.”
“Jamie?” Rowan asked, his hand covered in sticky grains of rice. No matter how many times Tyler confirmed that his son did actually know how to use a spoon, Rowan ended up using his hands to eat. “Are you scared about your game?”
Jamie shook his head. “Nope. I’m just excited.”
“I drew you a picture.”
Jamie looked at Tyler, and he would have laughed at the look on his boyfriend’s face if it hadn’t been for the sincere vulnerability there in his green eyes. Tyler offered him an encouraging smile. “Really?” Jamie asked, looking back at Rowan.
“Papa, may I please leave the table to get Jamie’s picture?”
“Yeah, kiddo. Thanks for asking.”
Rowan pitter-pattered across the floor toward his room. He reappeared a second later, with a piece of a recycled paper grocery bag in his hands. With a grin on his face, he handed the paper to Jamie.
“Oh,” Jamie said, his face softening as he looked at the picture. “I love this so much.”
Rowan clapped his hands together. “Papa wrote the words, but I did all the colors.”
Tyler watched Jamie’s eyes trace over the upper corner of the page, where Tyler had scrawled out a few clumsy, imperfect words, words that couldn’t come close to expressing everything he felt.
Jamie turned to Tyler, eyes full of emotion. “Tyler,” he breathed. “You wrote me a poem.”
“They’re just words,” Tyler said, a feeble attempt to brush off the awe in Jamie’s voice.
“None of that. These words are too beautiful to be just words.” Jamie looked back at Rowan. “This is the coolest picture ever, bud. Can I put this on my fridge?”
Rowan nodded, grinning.
A few hours ago, Tyler had been sprawled on his belly beside Rowan on the floor, beeswax crayons and markers scattered around them.
Rowan had explained that he was drawing the three of them: himself, Papa, and Jamie, and that he was also adding Bunny because he was a part of the family too.
The scratches of blue were the ice and the scribbles of yellow were bright lights, because they were happy together.
The figures were barely discernible, but that was the beauty of art created by children. They hadn’t been broken by the demands of perfectionism yet. Rowan drew on the paper with all the confidence of a master, and Tyler swore he saw the truth in every line and squiggle.
It was brave, art like that. Not to Rowan, who was too young to have felt the constraints of expectations brought by the world, but to Tyler, it seemed like the greatest form of courage.
It was brave to live like that too, to live with hope and joy in the face of pessimism. To take a chance on love when it seemed so likely to fail.
Tyler had decided to be brave, too.
He’d grabbed one of the felt tipped markers and had begun to write. The marker was starting to dry out, the letters frayed and inconsistent, but it did the job.
What was left was the first poem he’d written in years.
Poetry used to come in the night–
Eyes wide, head still pounding
Glitter still clinging to my chest.
It would swell in my gut,
Tightening, winding up: a chokehold
Until it spilled from a wanting throat.
There was a symphony in my head,
A cacophony of warm, open tones
And all I had to do was pluck out the
Threads to weave a melody.
It is silent now.
The moon sunk below the oaks.
Eyes heavy, head empty of everything but
Sun and you.
There is nothing unseen,
My head swims with little joys
No symphony.
No notes.
Not a thread to be found in the night.
But in the day?
There we are. Eyes soft against the
Bright, glittering sky.
Maybe this was the poetry all along.
Rowan returned to his animals while Jamie and Tyler cleaned up the kitchen. Jamie hand-washed the dishes, while Tyler put leftovers away in recycled yogurt containers.
Jamie came up beside him, placing a hand on Tyler’s back. “What are the chances you have something sweet?” Jamie nuzzled the side of his neck.
Tyler glanced up to see the sheepish hope on his boyfriend’s face. Tyler rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and grabbed a little box of ginger snaps that he’d stashed in a cabinet.
Jamie thanked him and opened the box. He frowned. “You have a mouse problem,” he said.
“What?”