The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  A young guy who must have been in his early twenties sat near them on one of the stools with his head buried in his hands. He was dressed in a shiny black shirt and pants and looked like he had been out partying.

  The server poured two coffees into small white ceramic mugs and slid them across the counter to Alex and Isaac. He did the same for the shiny guy sitting nearby.

  “Free refills,” the server announced.

  Isaac and Alex sat in silence. The shiny guy took his face out of his hands and looked at them through bleary eyes.

  “Yo, bro, you got an Advil or something?” he asked. “My head is killing me.”

  “No, sorry,” Alex replied.

  Their all day/night breakfasts soon arrived. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast. Everything smelled delicious. Alex dug right in, but Isaac just stared at his plate.

  “Come on,” Alex said through a mouthful of food. “Eat something. We’re going to my place to crash after.”

  Isaac picked at his eggs.

  “You want something else?” Alex asked.

  The shiny guy started sobbing on the counter. Alex tried to ignore him, and Isaac remained quiet.

  “Look, don’t do that mute bullshit again,” Alex said. “Or I’m going to take my fork and stick it in your eye.”

  “I’m sorry,” Isaac finally responded.

  “Just eat.”

  Alex combined egg with sausage on his fork and shoved it into his mouth.

  “Yo, bro…my head, bro…I need some Advil,” the shiny guy moaned again.

  “You’re gonna have to keep it down,” the server told him.

  “How could she, bro? How?” the shiny guy cried.

  Alex and Isaac were the only other customers currently sitting in the Vesta Lunch.

  “I can’t believe all the stuff you’ve done for me,” Isaac said to Alex.

  “Just don’t crack up on me, buddy,” Alex replied. “At least not until The Tournament is over.”

  The shiny guy had re-buried his face and his sobs became unbearably loud. The waiter was about to say something again, but Alex put his fork down and turned to the guy.

  “Alright,” Alex said, irritated. “Let’s have it. What’s your problem?”

  “Bro…” The shiny guy wiped his eyes. “She let me pay for dinner and then she’s like, ‘This isn’t working out. We’re two different people.’ She left me. You know what that’s like?”

  Alex looked at him. “Yeah, I have an idea.”

  The waiter refilled everyone’s coffee.

  “Free refills,” he announced again.

  Isaac took a bite of his food for the first time. “You know, when this tournament is actually over?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Think we can still hang out?”

  “Sure,” Alex smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Isaac threw his arms around Alex, causing him to drop his cutlery on the floor.

  “I love you, my man,” Isaac said aloud.

  “Alright,” Alex laughed. “Take it easy.”

  Isaac took out his sunglasses and put them on.

  “I’m gonna dedicate my first greatest hits album to you,” Isaac said as he started to eat his food in earnest.

  “How can you have a first greatest hits album?”

  “Every song on the album’s a hit.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Alex looked at his friend.

  “Hey, buddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That thing tonight…you’re lucky she didn’t ask to press charges.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t go over there anymore.”

  “I know.”

  43.

  Since Mike was staying in the spacious basement of Corey and Helen Peters’ home, he spent as much of his free time as he could in nearby High Park and limited his time in the Peters home to showering and sleeping. Helen invited him to have his family stay over. They had an extra pullout bed and a spare guest room. Mike said that he appreciated the offer and would consider it.

  He’d had minimal contact with Corey since he began staying there, but he noticed that Corey was suddenly around the house a lot more. Before this week, Mike had become accustomed to the routine noises of the house and he only ever heard Helen and the shuffling little feet of her two children. Mike had even taken the kids out to the park on occasion just to give Helen a break. She looked appreciative and embarrassed at the same time. Her husband was just never around.

  However, that seemed to have changed in recent days. Lately, whenever Mike returned from a practice Corey was there. He and Helen were even seen sitting together in the stands at the New York game, and Eddie said that he saw them holding hands.

  Tonight, as Mike sat in his bed and streamed a movie to watch on his tablet, he heard some commotion. He got out of bed and tiptoed up a few stairs to listen.

  The Peters children had been farmed out for an overnight stay with one of Helen’s sisters and the noises that Mike heard were of Helen and Corey…mostly Corey…having sex. Mike smiled to himself and retreated back down the stairs. He climbed into bed and hit a button to play his movie.

  Even though this was his chance to watch a brainless action flick without objections from his wife Becky, he instead chose a rom-com that she’d once made him watch. The hardest part of this tournament was being away from her and their kids.

  Mike could hear Corey’s heavy breathing. Good for him, Mike thought as he put his earbuds in and turned the volume up on his tablet.

  Poor Helen.

  Corey fell asleep very shortly after they were done, but Helen lay in bed and was wide awake. She couldn’t recall the last time she and her husband had been intimate, but this was pretty much exactly how she remembered it. Corey tended to his own needs with little regard for hers, and it was all over too quickly.

  All that notwithstanding, and despite the fact Corey was developing a heavy gut, Helen felt relaxed as she lay there. It all came out of nowhere. Earlier, they went for sushi near their home in the trendy Bloor West Village neighbourhood, and the only small talk Corey made was about how good the food was.

  After they returned home and went upstairs to turn in, Corey came up behind Helen and started tugging at her shirt. At first surprised, she turned around and just went with it as he finished pulling off her shirt and awkwardly tried to undo the straps of her bra. She had to help him with that before everything else took its natural course.

  Helen closed her eyes and wondered if Mike had heard anything downstairs.

  44.

  Despite having mixed feelings, Curtis returned to Megan’s house when the team returned home. He really had nowhere else to go and was not exactly fired up at the prospect of staying in another dumpy motel. The team was doing enough of that on the road.

  Curtis also knew that deep down he was afraid of being alone, and he hated himself for it. In the brief time he’d been locked out by his mother, his lifelong dependence on her, and the way he made sense of the world through her tight control of him, had become obvious. It made him feel sick.

  Megan worked a lot of evening shifts at the restaurant, but she had tonight off. When Curtis arrived back from practice, she sat him down immediately in front of a candlelight dinner.

  She explained that when she worked late at the restaurant, her kind neighbour helped watch her son. The neighbour lived nearby, was widowed and lived alone. Jimmy would often just stay the night.

  “Why’d he go tonight when you’re not working?” Curtis asked.

  Megan took a sip of her wine.

  “Because of me?” Curtis asked.

  “He’s angry, Curtis,” Megan replied. “He’s just mad.”

  “I really should go.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to make things worse for you. And for him.”

  “Is that really why? Or are you just scared of getting close to me because I have a kid?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I don�
�t need to sink my teeth into a man. I’m doing just fine raising my son, alright?”

  “I never –”

  “I know you need a place to stay,” Megan said. “But I thought…”

  “I like you, alright?” Curtis blurted out.

  Megan looked at him, but she did not say anything.

  “I’ve always liked you,” Curtis continued. “I just…I’ve never let myself think.”

  Megan got up and came around the table to where he was sitting. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Curtis closed his eyes and let her do it, but his lips did not move. Megan pulled away and studied his face. He was looking down at the floor sheepishly.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “You’ve never been with anyone, have you?”

  Curtis slowly shook his head. Megan stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips.

  “Well, look at you…big, black and gorgeous…and a virgin,” she laughed.

  “Oh, come on, stop,” Curtis whimpered.

  Megan took Curtis’s hand and got him to stand up. She guided him toward her bedroom.

  “Come on, I want to show you my tattoos.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “You’ll see.”

  45.

  It stood to reason that in a tournament with fifteen teams and a fifteen-game schedule, it would make sense for all the teams to play each other.

  However, it seemed the schedule-makers were amateurs just like the players. Toronto was set to play Hartford a second time, at home again, and then a third time in Hartford right near the end of the schedule, before playoff seeding was determined.

  Alex sat in his stall and went through the usual ritual of taping his sticks. He felt a confident buzz in the room. The guys seemed eager to prove they were not the same team that stumbled out of the gate. There was blood in the water and Toronto players were ready to circle like sharks.

  Close to game time, some of the players commented on how much louder it seemed to be in the arena. Once the gate opened and they left the dressing room, the increase in crowd size was immediately noticeable. If three thousand or so people attended previous home games, this crowd had to be closer to five thousand. As the teams lined up on the ice to start the game, Alex noticed that his defence partner Barry Davis was already snarling at Hartford’s players.

  Alex wouldn’t necessarily admit it to anyone, but he was really starting to like Barry – a strong, intense player who didn’t take crap from anyone. Like nearly everyone else on the team, Barry looked stronger every game. He could easily have been part of the Deep Six dynasty if they had known him back then.

  Barry had become an enigma. No one had ever heard him speak, and he displayed the same angry scowl on his face all the time. Isaac once wondered aloud whether Barry was a psychopath and was told to shut up simultaneously by Alex, Mike and Eddie, as Barry was just out of earshot.

  One of the players on Hartford was a big defenceman wearing #12. He called out to the Toronto players.

  “You guys think you’re hot shit?”

  A few minutes into the opening period, Hartford’s #12 got the puck and before he could make a play, Alex came across and smoked him with a clean, open-ice bodycheck. The hit sent #12 backpedalling five or six paces before falling to the ice.

  The home crowd lost their minds. Behind the glass near the Toronto net, Angus Miller sat on the Zamboni and flashed his gap-toothed grin. In the stands together, Corey and Helen were brought to their feet cheering.

  Moments later, Alex wired a low shot from the point that was tipped perfectly by Mike in front, and Toronto gained a 1–0 lead. Toronto added another goal and led 2–0. They were out-hitting and outshooting Hartford by a wide margin. The score was merciful.

  The second period featured more dominance from the Toronto side. More hits, more shots, and eventually more goals.

  Matt was seeing so little action in the Toronto net that he could have been forgiven if he fell asleep. By the end of two periods he had faced just eleven shots, and most of them were harmless as his team nursed a commanding 4–0 lead. However, in the first few minutes of the third period Hartford executed a perfect three-on-two rush and set up a hard one-timer that was labelled for the top corner before Matt shot his glove out and snapped the puck up for a dazzling save.

  Ohhhhhhhhh and what a save by Richards! They call him Matt “The Cat,” you know, and with saves like that you can see why. Not much action for him tonight, but he comes up big there to keep Hartford off the scoreboard.

  With less than two minutes left to play, a Hartford forward carried the puck down the wing into the Toronto zone and skated behind the net with it. Barry chased him and Alex stopped in front of the net to protect the crease. As Alex turned to focus on any incoming players looking for a pass or rebound, the Hartford forward threw the puck in front on a blind centering pass. It hit the back of Alex’s skate and went through the legs of a surprised Matt into the net.

  Hartford players had a muted celebration as an annoyed Alex looked up at the rafters.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Matt said as he dug the puck out of the net with his goalie stick. “Who cares?”

  Alex tapped Matt on the pads with his stick and said a quick sorry for ruining his shutout, before skating back to the bench.

  “Shake it off, Bucs,” one player said.

  “Shit happens,” offered another.

  Ken came by and tapped Alex’s helmet.

  “Just make sure you don’t do that again during a big game, or I’ll have to strip you of the captaincy,” Ken said jokingly.

  Alex managed to laugh and so did the other players on the bench.

  As the clock wound down and Toronto was on its way to a solid 4–1 win, appreciative fans were all on their feet cheering for the final minute.

  Brooks Edwards was sitting among the crowd again and typing furiously on his small computer. Something special was going on with this tournament after all.

  46.

  Matt replayed his only really significant moment of the game, the spectacular glove save, over and over again in his mind as he walked home. The moment he pulled that puck out of thin air and knew he had it…the crowd roaring…the expression on his teammates’ faces…it just felt so good. He wanted to capture that feeling and bottle it up somehow.

  There would be another great save, he assured himself…and another. The team was coming together now, and everyone could see it.

  Matt walked along the pier and got strange looks from people as he knocked imaginary pucks out of the air with his imaginary glove or stopped them with his imaginary blocker. Rachel was supposed to be bringing him more stuff and waiting for him on the boat.

  He really had everything under control. He wasn’t binging, just a hit here and there – it kept him straight, that was all.

  Who could argue with results? His play had improved so much.

  Matt could see a light on in his boat as he jumped onboard and opened the front door to the cabin. Inside, Rachel lay naked on the bed. There was a used syringe on the night table.

  “Hey,” she said through glazed eyes. “C’mere.”

  47.

  Eddie was glad to get back home following Toronto’s big win versus Hartford.

  He just wanted to forget everything for a few hours and immerse himself in gaming. His plan was to play until he was losing consciousness.

  He played against some guy online, which he rarely did. By the time Eddie was done whipping whoever #HOCKEYWHIZZ was, his eyes were getting heavy, and it was close to 2:00 a.m. On the way to bed, Eddie realized that he forgot to check his messages. He didn’t usually have any, but the light on his home phone was flashing.

  “Hello. This call is for Eddie Mark. My name is Mary Sinclair…I’m a hospital case manager.”

  At 8:58 a.m., Eddie was waiting in the hospital to meet Mary Sinclair. Before coming upstairs to her office, Eddie had stopped by the ICU to ensure Tommy’s condition hadn’t changed.

  It wasn’t l
ong before Mary Sinclair came in and invited Eddie to take a seat. Eddie could tell she had a gracious demeanour just by her smile and the way she shook his hand.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Mary said.

  “No problem,” Eddie replied.

  “Mr. Mark, the reason I called you is because I’ve been in contact with Tommy’s family,” Mary said as she sat down.

  Eddie shrugged. “I haven’t talked to them in years.”

  Mary nodded sympathetically and took out a folder full of papers from her desk drawer.

  “They mentioned that.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  “Tommy’s parents came in and filled out some papers,” Mary said as she gently pushed the folder across the desk.

  “It’s all there for you to read,” she continued. “But really what it comes down to is they’re asking you to organize Tommy’s affairs.”

  Eddie opened the folder and skimmed through the documents. “His affairs?”

  “Your friend Tommy is stable right now, but two days ago he had difficulty swallowing again, and the doctors report that he had another stroke.”

  “They think he’s going to die?”

  “He’s had two strokes in the past few weeks,” Mary replied, “Each time something like that happens, it creates more damage.”

  “I know.”

  “Tommy’s family wanted me to ask if you’d be willing to make all the necessary arrangements for him,” she said. “You’ll see they’ve offered money, and they also said they can provide more if you think more is needed.”

  Eddie closed the folder and stared at it.

  “They abandoned him.”

  “I’m sure the entire situation has been incredibly difficult for everyone,” Mary replied.

  “I never abandoned him.”

  “And that’s probably why they want you to do this.”

  “Did they say anything else?”

  “They said it’s what Tommy would want.”

  48.

  Back then he was known simply as Macdonald: a ruthless, closed-minded and unreasonable man who somehow managed his way into promotion after promotion until he finally landed a powerful position on the university’s board of directors.