Page 11 of Drop the Gloves
“Thank you?”
“If I had family in the league, I’d be more like the Nilssons.Those boys know you can’t give family an inch or they’ll take a mile.My sis plays hockey, but I always played with her.Always got pissy when I wouldn’t pass to her, though.My other siblings play lacrosse, and my cousins all play rugby and soccer.If they played hockey, we’d fuckingmurdereach other on the ice.”Barczyk said this with a kind of manic delight that implied he in fact wished it were true because he’d like nothing more.
“Oh,” Evan said, because he really didn’t know how to respond to that.It was probably in the league’s best interest that the rest of the Barczyk clan had gravitated to other sports.
“Who’s your cousin?”Barczyk asked.“Auchter?He’s big too.Canadian, I think.Played against him in Juniors.Helluva shot.”
“Yeah.”He was surprised Barczyk had guessed.It wasn’t something that Evan hid or anything, but he didn’t typically talk about his family within the league.There were four of them currently, all spread across North America.It was a little surreal that he was talking about this with Barczyk of all people when he hadn’t discussed it with the guys on the team he considered friends.“He does have a good shot.”
“And like I said, he’s big.He can take you hitting him, promise.But it’s not just tonight.You hesitate all the time.This a new thing or…?”
Evan’s cheeks burned.“I?—”
Barczyk leaned forward and smacked Evan’s thigh.It kinda hurt.“Here’s a secret for ya.It’s hockey.You’re gonna hit people, and they’re gonna hit you back.If you walk away from a game without a few bruises, did you even really play?”He paused as if he expected Evan to answer, but then kept going.“If someone can’t handle it when you knock ‘em over or rough ‘em up, then that’s a them-problem.We’re all adults.You gotta learn to shake that shit off.”
Aaaand it was over, that brief moment of camaraderie between them.As friendly as Barczyk was with his teammates, he really didn’t give a shit about anyone else.And apparently Evan’s inability to let go of his injury was a poor reflection onhiminstead of a sign that Barczyk played a dangerous game and didn’t care about collateral damage.
“Right,” Evan said stiffly.“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He really would, though not for any of the reasons Barczyk might assume.
Barczyk nodded approvingly and stood up.He shimmied out of his hockey pants, and Evan took that as a cue the conversation was over; he looked away so he wouldn’t get an eyeful of Barczyk’s jock.
It wasn’t over.
“I can do some checking drills with you, if you want,” Barczyk offered.“When we get back home.Some easy ones just to get you to follow through with your hits.We can use some of those big pylon dummy-things if you don’t wanna hit a person.”
Evan’s head snapped back.Barczyk’s crotch was unfortunately eye level, and he had to quickly look up.He was so flustered he stuttered, “Uhm, I guess…maybe…it’s not a big deal?—”
“Cool,” Barczyk said, thankfully not looking at Evan as he then pulled off his hockey shorts and tossed them into his bag.“I’ll set it up when we’re back home.See you on the bus.”Then he grabbed a towel and walked his naked ass toward the showers.Evan was so stunned that he couldn’t help it…he looked, realized he was staring at Riley Barczyk’s ass, and quietly turned away.
What the fuck just happened?
6
Evan assumedBarczyk would forget all about his offer—if anyone in the league said shit just to say it, it was Riley Barczyk—but after practice a few days before the home opener, Evan was about to skate off the rink when he felt a tug on his jersey.
“Hey,” Barczyk said.“Thought you wanted to practice checks.I got Coach Mel to help us out since that’s more what her D-boys do, and I pulled in some of the rookies so it wouldn’t look like anyone thoughtyouwere the problem or anything.”
“Oh.”That was actually kind of nice, and ‘kind of nice’ wasn’t a descriptor he was used to attributing to Barczyk.Plus, having Coach Mel run things made it seem a lot more official, and he wouldn’t have to deal with Barczyk one-on-one.“That’s great, actually.Uhm.Thanks.”
He turned back to the rink where Coach Mel was directing some of the assistants to put out large dummies and pylons while a few other players skated around one of the goals.It was mostly the bottom six forwards and the younger defensemen, making it look a lot more like an actual practice rather than something Barczyk had put together just because he noticed Evan couldn’t get his shit together.
Coach Mel blew the whistle, and everyone gathered around.“Barczyk’s brought it to my attention that some of us need a refresher on how to hit, and I agree.We play a clean game, but being physical is part of hockey.You guys are our grinders: you don’t get the pretty minutes, and sometimes it’s on you to rough up the other team and tire ‘em out.I can’t have my defense pulling their punches, and the only way lines three and four see more minutes is if you’re doing more ’n just standing around while lines one and two catch their breaths.”
While most of the players nodded along, an eager look in their eyes, Evan gulped.Coach Mel had pretty clearly laid out what was expected of him, and he wasn’t living up to it.Sure, he scored, and his plus/minus wasn’t terrible, but he was in no way ‘roughing up’ anyone.It had never really mattered before.There wasn’t as much checking at lower levels, or at least he’d never needed to worry about it, because he was always bigger than everyone.People hit him, bounced off, and he went about his business.As long as he’d played hard, his coaches were satisfied with his physicality.
But this was the NHL, and that had definitely been something he’d noticed early on.There was a lot more hitting, because not only was it allowed, it was expected.Not only that: everyone was big.Granted, not everyone was 6’5, but there were plenty of guys about his size.Up until now, his coaches had definitelysaidthey’d like him to be more physical, but he’d always considered it more like a footnote in their feedback.It sounded like it was no longer optional for him.If this was what he had to do to up his game—and, to some extent, it was definitely a mental roadblock for him to get over—then he’d do whatever Coach Mel asked.
Honestly, he appreciated the direct instruction.Throughout the drills, Coach Mel explained exactly what she wanted them to do, why she wanted it, and how much they could get away with before they’d be risking a penalty.
“Harder!”she yelled as Evan once again pulled up a little short on his check to a dummy.“Abernathy!C’mon, you’re a big guy.If you ain’t knocking these things over when you check them, I know you’re not putting enough into it.”
“Sorry, Coach,” he said.He meant it too.He just didn’t know what to do about it.
“Don’t look like someone kicked your puppy.C’mere, kid.”
He skated over, glad that the drills were still going so no one would pay attention to them.“Yes, Coach?”he asked, hanging his head.
