Page 17 of Powder
She sighed but went over to pet Steve. A dozen plus needles hit the hardwood floors and she glanced over her shoulder wearing a chagrined expression before dashing off tohopefullyfind the broom. Such a brat.
I checked the incoming call and saw it was from Gunny. A call from a kid? Must be serious. I tapped the green button, and his face came into view in a small screen on the bottom left.
“Gunny, what’s up?” I asked right off. I could tell by just looking at the guy that he was stressed out. He blew at a blond curl dangling into his eye. He’d decided to not cut his hair this season because he was currently tied with Trick for goals. Hockey players could be superstitious in the extreme. We’d not get into some of the crazy shit I’d seen over the years. “You sick?”
We had a big game against Carolina tomorrow at home.
“No, I just read the morning hockey news report inIce Beat in the ’Burg.”
I walked over to my patio to gaze out at the snow on the little picnic table and two chairs now covered with plastic.
“Did you see the rumors out of Detroit?”
I hadn’t. I did my best to not get into online sports sites. Most were just armchair dudes speculating over this or that and with the trade deadline coming in two months tittle-tattle or outright lies were going to fire up. Also, I didn’t care what the press thought about me. I was doing the best I could do, and if thecoach and GM were happy then to hell with what some Chad or Brad with a podcast set up in their living room thought.
“Gunny, there’s no reason to get fired up over anything said onIce Beat. I know Preston Mills likes to think he has a finger on the pulse of the league but he’s just a dude with his nose in the dirt.”
“No, I mean… yeah, I know he can be a shit at times but he’s saying that the Railers are looking to bring him in to bolster the second line forward situation. Cap, I cannot play on the same team as that dick.”
“Okay, slow your roll a bit kid,” I said firmly. Gunny blew out a breath. “What dick are we even talking about? I know about eighty in the league.”
“Jari Lankinen.”
Oh. Oh. Now that was a name I knew well. The last name anyway. Anyone who lived in this town or played on this team was well aware of the devastating head injury Tennant Rowe-Madsen had suffered years ago at the hands of Aarni Lankinen, Jari’s father.
“It’s probably just a rumor, Gunny. You know Preston likes to toss out stupid headlines just to get people to click or call in to his podcast. I’d not put much stock into it.”
“Can you look into it, Cap? My dads and Tennant are super close. Pop’s already saying that if the Railers allow a Lankinen to wear the dusky blue he will call the people he knows.”
Jesus. Stan. I loved the guy, everyone did, and he was HHOF goalie royalty, but he did have a tendency to go off like a rocket.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll poke around and see if I can sniff anything concrete up. But you know if the team is dealing quietly behind the scenes no one will say a thing to me or anyone else until the contracts are signed. Tell Stan to chill out and go watch an Elvis movie. And you also need to shake it off, the kid. Even if they were to bring this Jari in, there’s nothing you could do about it.We don’t have to like all of our teammates, but we do have to play our game at maximum no matter who we’re passing a puck to, right?” He didn’t reply. “Right, Gunny?”
“Yeah, right, Cap.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Okay, see you at morning skate. Stay off social media and I’ll see what I can dig up. It’ll probably just be some clickbait shit, and we’ll keep kicking ass and chewing bubble gum,” I reassured the young man as best I could. Stupid podcasters.
I was pullingmy coat on when Coach entered the locker room. He looked tired but not tight.
“Jack, before you go, I have some good news,” he opened with, smiling at Gunny, who smiled politely back.
“Good news today would be welcomed,” I said, then glanced down to button my winter coat.
“Agreed. The GM has just gotten word from USA Hockey that you’ve been chosen to represent America in the Olympics next month in Italy. Congratulations.”
I stood there like a dolt, fingers locked on brass buttons, staring at the hand my head coach was shoving at me. Gunny hooted.
“I… but Trick and Gunny are the young ones,” I stammered.
“Well, it seems they wanted some vets on their team, and with your tenure in the league and the outstanding season you’re having they would like to have you wear the red, white, and blue.”
“No shit?” I asked, coat still unbuttoned.
Coach chuckled. “No shit. My hand is getting tired of hanging here in space.”
I hurried to clasp it and shake it hard. “Thanks, Coach, this is a real honor. I’m just… so old.”
“With age comes wisdom,” Coach said, then shifted his attention to Gunny. “Congratulations again, Jack. Well deserved. Make sure you take sunscreen for the snow glare.”
