Page 25 of Thrown for a Loop
“Don’t trade for him,” my neighbor warns. “And whatever you do, don’t take Chase Merritt, either. His production is terrible this season.”
Unfortunately, Mr. Blowhard isn’t wrong this time. And Chase isn’t making a very good case for himself so far tonight. He hasn’t done much to create scoring opportunities.
The ref calls a play offsides, and the whistle blows. And suddenlythere’s Chase’s sweaty face in HD, and I feel the same unwelcome jolt of electricity as always. Except now I don’t even have to feel guilty for staring at him anymore. It’s literally my job.
My dirty secret, though, is that I’ve been tracking his career for years.
After our intense summer and dramatic breakup, I lost track of him for a while. He left college for a junior team, I think. After that, he leveled up to the minor leagues in hockey. But those games aren’t widely televised, so he wasn’t on my radar.
That all changed one night when I was on my way to a competition in Europe. I was sitting in the international terminal at Logan Airport, bored. My eyes had drifted to the overhead TV screen, which was showing a hockey game between Boston and Edmonton.
The camera had focused on the Edmonton bench, and suddenly Chase’s blue eyes shone out from the screen. He was frowning, his face red from exertion. But my heart spasmed with both surprise and longing. From that moment on, I became a secret hockey fan, watching games whenever I could. Cheering for him even though he broke my heart.
Although I quickly learned not to google his name if I missed a game, because that brought up all kinds of other mentions I wasn’t prepared to see. As Chase’s major league career expanded to New York, so did his collection of photos in the gossip rags.
Like the photo I saw of Chase on a red carpet, escorting a young recording artist to the Grammy Awards. He always did like his music.
Or the pics of him at a party with a B-list actress.
Or the one where his date was a pretty Swedish snowboarder.
To protect my heart, I became a hockey-only fan of Chase’s, at least until I got married. Then I stopped watching games, because it felt disloyal. My achy heart needed a break, anyway.
“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” my neighbor asks suddenly.
Sigh.“That’s a nice offer, but I already drank my limit,” I say. “I’m switching to water.”
Without missing a beat, the bartender slides a glass of ice water onto the bar in front of me. Then he gives me a wink so fast I might have imagined it.
On the screen, the game heats up, and the loud booth in the corner starts yelling. “C’mon, fuckers! Shooooooot!”
As we all collectively hold our breath, Tremaine sends a wrister flying toward the Trenton goal. But it’s deflected. The guys in the corner all howl their disappointment.
I see a silver lining here. I watch the replay with unblinking intensity to confirm it: our captain rotating his edges before springing into action, for a speedier acceleration.
Yesss.If he keeps that up, it might just make a difference.
“Can I tell you a secret?” the blowhard beside me says. Then, without waiting for a response, he continues. “This is a hockey bar. Lot of players live in this neighborhood. Sometimes they come in here after games.”
“Really?” This is interesting enough to me that I actually glance at him.
He gives me a flirty smile. “The practice facility is a couple blocks away, so a lot of the guys live in this neighborhood. It’s real convenient. One of my favorite things about New York, the celebrities live among us.” Then he rattles off the names of a handful of players, including Chase’s.
“Fascinating,” I say, mentally filing this away, just in case Chase never answers my emails and I have to track him down after hours.
Three seconds later, though, I forget all about my neighbor. Chase gets a breakaway, and the whole bar leans forward in their chairs. I stop breathing as he sets up the pass, and…
The other team’s D-man flattens him into the boards and runs away with the puck.
Hell.I slump in my seat as a collective groan rises in the room. Chase seems a beat behind in everything he does, and his skating lacks its usual finesse.
Anyone can have an off night, but there’s just something odd about his stride this season. Chase’s skating has always been so effortless and natural. These days it looks… uneven. And there aren’t that many possible reasons. I can count them on one hand.
An injury, but his file is clear. I checked.
An inner ear imbalance.Nah.
A neurological problem.Unlikely.
