Page 14 of Drop the Gloves
The Riveters wonthe first game of the season, a narrow 2-1 win over Boston.The honor of the first goal of the season went to Lawson—no surprise there, he was captain for a reason—and the first game-winning goal was a breakaway from Antonov.Evan watched Lawson accept the fancy Rolex, and when he joked about adding it to his collection, Evan felt a pang of envy.Lawson was nearly a decade into his career and had the accolades to go with it; when Evan imagined himself in his 30s, he hoped to have achieved what Lawson had.
Instead, he was getting fake punched by Riley Barczyk after the game.
“Fuck yeah, Abs,” Barczyk said, punctuating each word with a hit.Evan gritted his teeth and had to remind himself that Barczyk wasn’t trying to be an asshole.Not currently, anyway.“You almost got as many checks in today as I did.Fun, right?”
“Uhm.”It wasn’tfun, not when he had to pay so much attention to it, but Evan could admit that it was a relief to have succeeded.Five checks exactly, and it hadn’t negatively impacted his offense.Their line hadn’t scored, but they’d gotten a decent number of shots and chances.Admittedly, a couple of those were generatedbecauseEvan was being more aggressive.If he were more skilled at picking the right opportunities instead of going after all of them, it really might help.“It was okay,” he conceded.
Not the worst game ever, at least.
“Ha!You hated it.Too bad, you’re good at it.”
“Am not.”
“Okay, you’re not, but you could be.You gonna keep it up?”
Evan didn’t know what expression his face made, but it made Barczyk laugh.
“Hey, it’s just a tool,” Barczyk said.“Something to break out when you need it.You don’t have to go all Hulk or anything every game.”
“Just a tool?”Evan grumbled.“It’s the only one you use.”And then he wanted to kick himself for saying it out loud.
But Barczyk only grinned wider, showing off his stupid missing tooth.“Hey, I’m a simple man.If you’re good with a hammer, no point in learning how to use a wrench.”
“That—” He wanted to say it didn’t make any sense, but given that Barczyk had made his entire career out of ‘using a hammer,’ he was maybe onto something.“Okay.I’ll keep it in mind.I’ll maybe break out the hammer this season.”
Barczyk’s answering smile was mischievous with the missing tooth, with none of the menace he usually associated with Barczyk’s presence.
* * *
Coach Mel didn’t prescribe him any more hit quotas.She congratulated him and warned him about upcoming practices, and that was that.He was grateful that he wouldn’t be under the microscope for his checking for a while, because it made him too damn self-conscious during games.There was already a lot of pressure to perform, and he didn’t want another way he might not measure up to expectations.
That said, he would try to play a more physical game.He saw the way it worked for Barczyk, a guy half his size, and there was definite potential in trying to do the same.
Not as much as Barczyk, obviously, because Barczyk just went for it.All the time.The guy couldn’t go a shift without hitting somebody or something.How his body wasn’t just one giant bruise, Evan didn’t know.The fans loved it, the other teams hated it, and more and more, Evan appreciated it.After a few games watching it front and center, he had to admire the consistency of Barczyk’s game and its effectiveness.
Or maybe he was just glad not to be on the receiving end of it.
That final realization made him sick.It came during a game against Chicago after Barczyk delivered a late check to Alexei Sokolov.Sokolov went down awkwardly and came up clutching his ribs.Evan got to see the check up close, only a few feet behind Barczyk on the play, and he hated himself because his first thought was,thank fuck he isn’t checking me like that anymore.
When the ref gave Barczyk a deserved penalty, instead of taking it and quietly going to the box, he mouthed off the whole time.
“Ref, c’mon.He’s got eighty pounds on me at least.If he falls over for that, that’s his fault.Tell him to learn how to skate.”
“Being small doesn’t give you a free pass, Barczyk,” the ref said.He seemed more amused than upset, like this was a song and dance they’d done before.“Get in the box.”
“Would it help if I said sorry?”
“Doubt it.You say it to Sokolov, it’d probably just make it worse.”
“Nah, that guy loves me.Ain’t that right, Socks?”
Sokolov glared at him and cursed under his breath in Russian.Barczyk looked disappointed, but he went to the box without complaint after that.While Barczyk was making himself comfortable in the penalty box, Evan reclaimed his spot on the bench, feeling guilty for his own relief.Sokolov could’ve gotten really hurt, and all he could think wasphew!not me this time!
He also didn’t like how callous Barczyk had been about the whole thing.He hadn’t said sorry, not that Evan had expected him to (he knew firsthand Barczyk didn’t apologize for hits).Still, it was the lack of remorse after.He hadn’t even looked back to see if Sokolov had been okay, just kept playing and had the gall to look surprised by the penalty.It was no wonder Barczyk was one of the most hated players in the league.
It also became apparent after his penalty why he still got contracts.Not only did Barczyk score the next time their line was out, but he drew a penalty when Sokolov angrily crosschecked him well after the goal.Barczyk sat on the ice, chewing his stupid mouthguard like always, and grinning up at Sokolov while Evan and Vassy stepped in to keep the angry Russian from pounding Barczyk into the ice.
“Buh bye,” Barczyk said with a wave as the refs dragged Sokolov away.“Make sure you watch the replay of my goal!It was a nice one!Sorry you dropped your coverage, big guy!”
