Page 41 of Sure Shot
“The league is struggling. But think about the demographics. Hockey for young girls is growing faster than boys’ hockey. And your products appeal to sporty girls, right? Besides—hiring these women for a single day’s photoshoot will elevate a sport that the world needs to see. And it makes you guys look like heroes for supporting women’s sports.”
“Interesting,” she says slowly.
“There’s so much misogyny in hockey,” I say. “But that will change. You could be a leader, and it won’t cost you much. A female athlete costs less than an Instagram influencer. Think about it.”
“I will,” she promises. “May I keep these shots?”
“Absolutely. I wrote their names on the back. And if you go to my website, you can see all the women I represent.”
I leave the meeting feeling pretty pleased with myself. Silas is getting his sponsorship, and I got to say my piece for women’s hockey.
On the corner of Sixth Avenue, I watch the tourists swarm Radio City and wonder what else I should do with my day. I pull out my phone and text Henry Kassman.Any chance we could grab a coffee? It’s been too long.
To my surprise, I get a response before I’ve walked a block.Come meet with me, Bess. We need to talk.
That sounds ominous. Henry and I usually communicate through hockey memes. But it’s not like I’m going to turn the man down. He sends me an address on East 61st street, and I head right over there. It turns out to be an apartment building, and the doorman sends me up to the penthouse suite.
I’ve never been to Henry’s home. I didn’t even know the man had one. He basically lives in the office. Odd that he’s here on a weekday afternoon.
When I knock on the door, it’s opened by a smiling young woman in a nurse’s uniform. “Come right this way. Henry!” she calls. “You have a visitor! Henry loves visitors.”
“That is a lie,” grumbles my mentor.
I follow her through a grand archway and into what appears to be a living room. Even though my senses are already pinging with worry, it’s a jolt to see a hospital bed set up in the center of the big room. A bigger surprise is the grey-faced, skinny shell of a man with an oxygen tube at his nose and a weak smile. “Hello, Bess. Long time no see.”
Pain and fear slice through me. It takes all my strength to force a smile. “It’s great to see you, slacker.”
“Sit, Bessie.” He waves feebly at a chair. “We have things to discuss.”
I walk over to the chair and sit down. It’s way too quiet in here. And I know I’m not going to like whatever Henry has to say.
Fourteen
Everyone but Aunt Gertie
Tank
Puckrakers Blog
“Brooklyn Opener Ends in Disappointment”
That sound you just heard was Brooklyn’s collective groan as the Bruisers failed to find the net during their entire home opener. Leo Trevi almost brought the magic on a breakaway during the second period, but the Philadelphia goalie made a highlight-reel save to deny him.
Only the brilliant netminding of Brooklyn’s Mike Beacon—and some skilled defense from captain O’Doul—kept the damage to just two goals. The offensive effort was haphazard at best, and unable to capitalize on new trade Mark Tankiewicz’s speed and maneuverability.
Things almost got ugly in the locker room afterward, when Tankiewicz’s famous temper flared up at a forward. It’s no wonder his teammates treat him like the Ebola virus when they’re on the ice together.
Maybe it’s too soon to call the Tankiewicz trade a disaster. But if the Tank can’t make some friends and influence people, it’s going to be a long season followed by a short flight for the veteran to some other team next year.
* * *
Practice lasts an eternity.
Or maybe it just seems that way, because Coach Worthington puts the same players together today—the same squad who lost together last night—and then spends two hours driving home all the ways our lack of communication lost the game.
“Don’t look for Tankiewicz to stay on the blue line,” he says. “He could be anywhere. Play the drill again.”
He must have said it a hundred times already, basically pointing out why I’m supposed to be a different kind of defenseman than their hero, O’Doul. I would feel vindicated if I weren’t so sweaty. And the irritation on the faces of all three forwards is pretty hard to miss.
