Page 63 of Puck Me Secretly

With my father’s warning ringing in my brain, I sat back to watch the rest of the game. Max’s focus on the ice and the bench was absolute. He seemed completely indifferent to the fact that our fans didn’t seem to like him. He had once been a much loved celebrity. How did he survive being hated by the public? Most people I knew would have gone into hiding. It was a testament to his character that he could block out that energy.

CHAPTER 22

When people thinkabout being a professional hockey player, they only see the huge paychecks, the celebrity status, and the countless number of hot women ready and willing. What could be better than playing hockey for a living?

I saw firsthand the other side of the profession. I saw the bruised faces, the iced knees, the injuries and the high physical price each player paid. No one talks about how, after playing a 90 minute game, a player needs to get dressed in a suit, talk to the media, get on a bus, wait at an airport, get on a flight and check into a hotel room in some strange city.

Away games were an act of endurance. There was a lack of sleep, long flights, practices in strange arenas and a different hotel room every night.

Tonight, we were in Minnesota. It was our fourth game on the road, and it promised to be a tough one. I sat four rows up from the ice, and the vibe in the arena differed from the previous three games. There was an indescribable energy in the air.

The second Max stepped onto the ice, the Minnesota fans booed. In response to their anger, Max played with unbelievable skill. Withmy hands pressed over my mouth, I watched as he fought his way to the opponent’s net and tipped the puck in.

He scored!

Around me, the fans went batshit crazy. Garbage rained down on the ice including water bottles, garbage, and hot dogs.

Referee whistles screamed as they halted the game to clean up the ice. Attendants tried to throw people out of the game which resulted in a brawl in the stands. Police officers waded into the mess to help remove the worst of the offenders.

Our hockey players stood beside the bench, talking amongst themselves, watching and waiting for the game to begin again.

Dad: What is the hold up? We’ve been on commercials forever

Me: The fans won’t stop throwing stuff on the ice

Dad: Assholes

It seemed like that was the tipping point for the fans. The gloves were off, so to speak. And after that, the game became ugly, rough and bloody. Illegal hits, fighting, and unnecessary force marred the game, which resulted in the penalty boxes being crowded with players.

Dad: Am I watching a boxing match or a game of hockey?

Me: Not sure

Dad: Tell the three blind mice they have for refs to call some of these shots!

Me: I’ll get right on that

Dad: Smart ass

Even worse, Joseph Flanynk and his enforcers made it their mission to hit Max every chance they got. Max did his fair share of taking players out against the boards, but all of his hits were legal. Devastating but legal.

The whistle blew. I watched as someone from the opposing team skated up behind Max and slammed him on the back of the headwith their stick. He dropped to his knees on the ice, with his arms over his head. I huddled in my seat, scarcely breathing, willing him to move. Another player skated over to help him off the ice. The fans screamed and cheered their pleasure at his exit. Around him, a full-blown brawl started with three of our players and four of theirs.

Dad: Tell me someone will pay for that hit

Me: Game misconduct. Is 33 okay?

Dad: Trainer texted that there is no concussion, he’ll return to game

Part of me had almost hoped that he wouldn’t. I hated how Max seemed to be the target of every abuse imaginable.

Ten minutes later, when Max returned, I watched in disbelief as fans dumped more garbage over the plexiglass onto our players on the bench which resulted in another pause in the game.

Dad: Tell me that did not just happen

Me: They are posting police around the plexiglass of our bench

Dad: The refs should end the game

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