Page 84 of Drop the Gloves
He saw that Riley had opened and read the message.He never got a response.
* * *
They lost to the Fleur-de-Lis.Badly.It was a 5-1 game where they had to pull their goalie and put in the backup, both of whom looked annoyed.Evan couldn’t blame them; it wasn’t their fault the Riveters were hemorrhaging shots on goal and tanking the goalies’ stats.
It’d been a normal, completely winnable game to start but had taken a turn in the first period, and the Riveters had never quite recovered.
Evan had seen it coming, too.
He knew Riley was off his game when he gave Evan a single slap with his stick, not breaking his stride as he skated by.That was their whole warm-up routine, reduced to two seconds.To be clear, Evan wasn’t blaming the loss on a superstition gone wrong.It was more a sign of Riley’s mojo being off, and that didn’t bode well for their line.
If only the damage had been contained to their line, but alas, it wasn’t.
Riley took a season high and league-leading six penalties for a total of 25 penalty minutes, including a game misconduct at the end of the third.The first two calls had been, in Evan’s opinion, a little soft.Not super surprising, given that was more or less standard in Quebec.The fans were loud, and their outrage tended to sway the refs.Unofficially, of course, since the refs denied calling the game differently in any arena or at any time of year.
But after Riley took the first few penalties, it only fired him up more.His play became more aggressive and dumber.He didn’t seem to care about the puck, or hockey, or winning.He was angry and was looking to take it out on anyone within reach wearing navy and silver.After the third bad penalty, Coach Jack clearly thought he was a liability and started limiting his minutes...which meant Dalton often filled in on the third line and the fourth line more or less got scrubbed.
“What the fuck is up with Barzy?”Dalton asked the first time he was sent out instead of Riley.“He’s way too fired up for a fucking Wednesday night.”
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe,” Vassiliev grumbled.“Fuck if we know.”
Evan worried he might know, and that Vassiliev was closer to the mark than he might think.
The fight that led to the misconduct...that hadn’t been fun to watch.Riley had seemed to calm down a bit during the second intermission, so Coach Jack trusted him with more minutes.They needed him on the ice to help wear down the Fleur-de-Lis and get back some semblance of control.
“Just win me this period,” Coach Jack said before the start of the third.“That’s all I’m asking.”
It was apparently too much to hope for.
Despite controlling his temper, Riley was on the wrong end of a boarding that knocked him onto the Quebec bench.It was called immediately, much to Evan’s relief...until he realized Riley hadn’t noticed the ref’s arm go up to make the call.Or he didn’t care, which might be more to the point, because he pushed himself off the bench, locked eyes on the nearest Quebec player, and charged at him.He dropped his gloves and tackled the player, some defenseman closer to Evan’s size than Riley’s, and started throwing punches.
The defenseman—not expecting to be attacked for a teammate’s bad decision—didn’t even get his gloves off before Riley had knocked him to the ice.A ref and linesman were there in seconds to pull Riley off, but such an unsatisfying end only made Riley more fired up than he’d been after the check.
“If you dumb fucks could fucking ref a goddamned game fairly?—”
“Barczyk!”The ref had to put Riley in a headlock to drag him away.“Calm the fuck down!”
“—let them take cheap shots at me all fucking night!I stand up for myself and you assholes?—”
It didn’t get any better from there.The five-minute major for fighting was expected.The game misconduct wasn’t, but it wasn’t exactly unearned.
“You’re kicking him out of the game for running his mouth?”Coach Jack snapped at the refs.“If you start enforcing that, you’ll need a bigger penalty box.”
“He’s out of fucking control, Brooks,” the ref said.“We don’t have to take this kind of abuse from a hothead.”
“Game misconducts are for intent to injure,” Coach Jack said.“Your hurt feelings don’t count.”
The ref went red in the face and skated away.Riley was already gone anyway.He’d stormed down the tunnel—seven minutes left in the game—to wait out his time in the locker room.Evan couldn’t blame him.
“No press!”Coach Jack said to Riley once the game was over.They all hung their heads.A few guys had complained about the game on the bench.Some thought Riley had lost them the game back in the first; others were happysomeonehad shown life.But no one was happy about taking a beating from the Fleur-de-lis.
“Lawson, Woodward, Calhoun, and Moreau,” Coach Jack continued, pointing to them each in turn.“That’s it.You four can talk to the press and answer for we stunk out there tonight.All of you can expect a long, uncomfortable flight back to Pittsburgh tomorrow.”
Evan tried his best to get Riley’s attention in the locker room.He waited and silently pleaded for Riley to look at him, just so he could see Riley’s smile and his stupid missing tooth and know Riley was over whatever had led to that mess on the ice.
Not once did Riley look Evan’s way.Or at anyone.He’d taken off his gear while they’d finished the game, and he sat there at his stall staring into space.Riley was one of the last ones into the showers.When he showed up on the bus back to the hotel—the last one on board—he hadn’t re-tied his tie or tucked in his dress shirt.
He also ignored the empty seat Evan had saved for him, opting instead for one near the front next to one of the coaching staff.
