Epilogue
NHL SUSPENDS PLAYERS FOR UNBECOMING CONDUCT
It’s unusual for the NHL authorities to punish players during the off-season, but the NHL is not exactly sitting in ordinary times.
After the shock announcement from a number of players following the Stanley Cup Final, the league has been forced to make some tough decisions about how much they truly believe that “hockey is for everyone.”
For years our teams have celebrated Pride Night at all levels of professional and semi-professional hockey, and yet it did not seem to change the fact that the sport at its core has not been welcoming to those who are part of the LGBTQ+ community.
Until now.
Following the brave actions of the eight players who combined to create the #PaintYourPride campaign, and the dozens of others who got on board once the campaign was revealed, the NHL has shown its true colors.
And they are rainbow-threaded, my friends.
Multiple suspensions and fines have been handed out to players for exhibiting abusive behavior and conduct seen to breach the morality clause within their contracts, after those players took to social media with hateful and disparaging comments both to and about the recently out players.
It is rumored that a small number of players have requested trades to avoid sharing locker rooms with certain teammates, but managements will have bigger concerns for their cap space, and these individuals may not be worth the risk.
It will be interesting to see how this shakes out, but one thing’s for sure: this league is not what it used to be. And in my personal opinion, that is for the better.
Click here to see a full list of confirmed disciplinary actions.
—Over The Boards, July 22nd, 2023
Nick still can’t believe he’s here.
It hasn’t felt real, not for a second—not when he first got the call asking him to be Grand Marshal of Las Vegas Pride, and not on the bus in the middle of the parade, and definitely not right now, standing in the wings, watching his boyfriend sing his heart out to a crowd of thousands, the headlining act of the parade’s celebration concert.
It’s early October, but still pretty mild.
He’s wearing his T-shirt from last season’s Pride Night—though Casey has “spiced it up for him” by removing the sleeves and cutting a V in the collar.
Over that he’s got a Sticks+Stones bomber jacket he stole from Matt months ago, and his jeans are tighter than he would’ve worn before he started dating an overgrown emo kid.
Part of Nick wishes he was down in the crowd with his friends—the only way he’s ever experienced a Sticks+Stones concert in the past. But Matt suggested he watch from up here and looked so hopeful Nick couldn’t say no.
The view is better, even though it’s from the side; he’s close enough to see the beaming smile on Matt’s face as he sings, and at the right angle too to see the overwhelmed expressions of the people at the barrier.
Nick doesn’t blame them; Matt looks like a wet dream, bare-chested beneath his black and gold WAG jacket.
The song ends and the stage goes quiet. Matt’s chest heaves as he looks out at the crowd.
“Okay, friends,” he says into the microphone, curling both hands around the stand.
“Here’s the deal. We’ve got something brand new to share with you this fine evening, and trust me, you’re gonna go wild for it. ”
The crowd screams, and Matt huffs a laugh.
Nick watches, intrigued. Two of the songs from their future third album have already been released as singles.
Could he be talking about those? Maybe they’re going to play “Light The Lamp,” the team’s secret new goal song that will hopefully debut at the Dragons’ home opener tomorrow night.
“But here’s the thing about this song,” Matt continues once the screams die down. “Some backstory for you. So,” he pulls the mic from the stand, walking closer to the front of the stage. “Around the beginning of this year, there was this guy…”
The crowd goes wild. Nick’s heart stops.
Matt laughs again, the sound low and throaty through the speakers.
“Yeah, I know, right? Total cliché. But there was this guy, and I’d been seeing him for, like, a couple of months,” he drawls, absolutely refusing to look anywhere near Nick’s side of the stage.
Nick grips the scaffolding as his knees go weak, his pulse humming in his throat.
“And … can I tell you guys a little secret?” The crowd whoops.
“This guy… God, he was just … gorgeous, and sweet, and kind of a total dork. Like, everyone thought he was cool, but oh, man… And I was … I was done for. It had only been a little while, but oooh, boy. I was so smitten, guys, you have no idea.”
There are more cheers. Everybody knows where this story is going, including Nick, but he’s watching with fireworks in his belly and tingles in his fingers like he can’t imagine what could possibly come next.
“So I was seeing this guy,” Matt continues conversationally, “and thinking like, holy shit, how did I get this lucky? How is he even real? But the thing about him, he was a little shy—I know, can you believe it?” he adds when someone’s loud laugh rings out.
“He was a little shy. Had no idea how absolutely fucking amazing he was. And I didn’t wanna come on too strong, scare him away, y’know?
Didn’t want him to know that while we’d been taking things slow, and keeping it casual, I’d gone and done the stupid thing of falling head over heels in love with him.
So I did what every lovestruck fool with a guitar does, and I wrote a song. ”
At last, he turns back to face Nick, and his eyes are shining with so much love Nick cannot breathe through it.
“Nicky,” he starts, “baby.” The crowd starts to cheer, and Matt beams impossibly wider and holds out a hand. “I wrote you a lil’ somethin’.”
He is golden in the glow of the stage lights, and Nick has never seen a single more beautiful sight in his life.
Someone—probably Zane, the band’s manager—gives Nick a shove, and then Nick is moving even though there is absolutely nothing left in him except his hummingbird heart and the tumbling waves of utter adoration for this man. He walks forward, and—
Look, Nick steps out in front of crowds of thousands three nights a week, but somehow with all these lights and all these eyes on him he feels so impossibly small.
But Matt is there, and he slips his warm hand into Nick’s and tugs him closer, and then Nick is a giant standing on top of a mountain, all because this man is looking at him like he can’t go another second without kissing him.
So Nick kisses him, slow and sweet, and the crowd absolutely loses it. When they part, Matt’s whole face shines. “I wrote you a song.” The words are said to Nick, though the microphone by their faces picks it up. “You haven’t heard it yet.”
Nick just gapes, stunned.
Matt slides his arm around Nick’s waist and turns back to the crowd. Nick faces them too, those thousands of people, as enraptured with Nick’s boyfriend as he is. Waving flags and flashing phone lights and probably filming this to put on YouTube later. Nick can’t wait to see it.
“So here he is. The guy. My guy.” Matt’s pride spills out of him like a waterfall as he presses a kiss to Nick’s sweaty temple.
“You all know him. You all love him. But not like I love him,” he adds with a wink, and the crowd’s eating up every second of this.
Nick still isn’t sure if he’s passed out from the excitement of the day and this is all just a vivid hallucination.
Then Matt turns, guiding Nick to a space a little further back, adjusting the Grand Marshal sash across his chest. “You can stand here,” he instructs. As he backs away, he looks to the crowd again. “God, I’m so nervous. I’ve never done this before. You guys are with me, right? You’ve got my back?”
Screams and whoops split the air, and Matt laughs.
“Perfect. Love that. Thank you. So.” He settles in front of the mic stand, where he can perform to both Nick and the crowd at the same time.
And his movements might be towards them, but his eyes—his eyes are all Nick’s.
“Here’s a little song I wrote, for the love of my life. It’s called ‘Hold My Hand’.”
Immediately, Spencer starts up on the drums, and then Matt’s hands start to fly across his guitar and Nick can feel the vibrations through his whole body—or maybe that’s just his heart, hammering so hard and so fast he might actually die.
He’s vaguely aware of the crowd jumping, a rolling sea of color and movement, but he can’t look away from Matt for anything.
And then Matt starts to sing.
He’s a born performer, absolutely made for the stage, but right now it’s just the two of them in the whole entire world.
Nick may have stopped breathing, every atom in his body focused on taking in as much of this as physically possible.
Matt moves with the music, reaches out a hand towards Nick, smiling wide and swinging his hips a little to entice him.
Nick falls, a thousand times, over and over in the three strides it takes him to get to Matt’s side and take his strong, guitar-callused hand.
He falls and his heart cracks wide open and all he can do is stand there and smile so hard his face hurts.
Matt lets go of Nick to reclaim his guitar but the connection between them is still as tangible as any embrace; Matt moves and Nick moves with him, taking in the words like each one is being engraved right onto his bones.
The tune feels familiar, and all of a sudden, a realization hits. Nick remembers lying on his back on the floor of his apartment, body bruised but heart melting as he was serenaded by a quiet guitar, Matt humming along with lyrics he wouldn’t yet let Nick hear.