Diana pulled herself up to lie on top of Alex and kissed him.
“That’s what I would say,” he concluded. “But I can’t forgive him.”
Diana spent the night at the apartment and left with Alex early the next morning. On their way out, she discussed bringing more of her things over and starting a gradual process of moving back in. Alex promised her numerous sexual favours if she did so quickly. She laughed and whacked him.
Neither one of them noticed a black car with tinted windows parked across the street.
53.
It took longer for Brooks Edwards to get into the Arena Gardens than usual due to the increased media coverage for the tournament final between Toronto and New York. Photographers, scribes, and camera operators swarmed the front gate and lined up to go through security.
The Tournament had certainly made waves, and fans were pumped for a final best-of-seven series between the biggest city in the United States and the biggest city in Canada. The trash talk and bravado were evident on both sides, with pundits in New York referring to Toronto as a “wannabe New York City” and a Toronto radio host calling Toronto “a cleaner, better version of New York than the real New York.”
After finally making it through the front gate with his press pass, Brooks thought about how he had not yet revealed Macdonald’s damaging information. He felt like someone who’d held onto stock that he could’ve already moved, but who could increase his profit even more by being patient.
For the final series, Toronto had home-ice advantage. After the round robin they were tied with New York in points, but they finished with one more win, which bumped them up in the standings. They had played each other once in a thrilling and bruising game that ended in a tie. Both teams had also overcome slow starts in the round robin to finish strong. Brooks predicted this series would be a fitting end to an unexpectedly entertaining tournament.
Led by Wayne Vanstone, New York was flashier and perhaps a little faster than Toronto, but Toronto was regarded as a more physical team with a relentless forecheck and better defence. With Freddy Rozelli’s help on the bench, their scoring had also improved significantly. Furthermore, after surviving Ottawa’s The Wall, Toronto regained the advantage in goaltending – as Matt “The Cat” was unanimously regarded as the best netminder on either squad.
However, there was no denying how dangerous Vanstone was. He had the highest point total of any player through the round robin and playoffs. And of course, New York’s rugged defenceman Marty Reed often rode shotgun with Vanstone to protect him, the same way Alex was always ready to clock another player if they took liberties with Mike.
As some kid with a media ID accidentally elbowed Brooks while grabbing a seat next to him behind the glass, Brooks finished his pre-game blog by stating that this matchup should most definitely be intense and fun to watch.
He predicted New York would win in seven games.
54.
For the final series of The Tournament, arrangements were made for live renditions of the American and Canadian national anthems to be performed prior to the puck drop. Each team lined up at centre and listened as a teenage girl belted out surprisingly stirring renditions of “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “O Canada.” The energy of the fans was palpable as almost all of them stayed on their feet cheering even after the game started.
About halfway through the opening period, Toronto found their legs and pressed New York on every play. During his first shift on the wing, Alex promptly drilled a New York winger, stole the puck and stormed in to ring a snapshot off the crossbar. The fans buzzed as Alex delivered two more hits and created another scoring chance on the same shift before going to the bench.
A few minutes later, Mike took the puck behind the New York net and held it there for a moment. He drew two New York players toward him and dished off a smart pass to Alex in front, who put a quick deke on the New York goalie and scored right before New York’s defenceman Marty Reed cross-checked him into the ice. The crowd celebrated and sensed Toronto might start rolling as they carried the 1–0 lead into the first intermission.
Early in the second, however, Vanstone showed everyone why he was called “The Best One” when he gave his teammate a perfect pass that no one saw coming. The New York player fired a shot into the net to tie the game 1–1.
Later in the period, Mike had the puck behind the goal again and threw another pass out front to Alex. However, this time Alex came skating in too hard and took the puck off his skate. He regained control and fought off a check to take it into a corner.
Now here’s Bucco taking another pass from Hill! Ohhhhh and he couldn’t handle it this time! He’s still with it…finds Banion in front! Banion! SCOOORES!!! And it’s 2–1 Toronto!
The young reporter sitting beside Brooks Edwards jumped up out of excitement and caught Brooks with another elbow.
“Do you mind?” Brooks snapped.
“Sorry,” the reporter replied.
Eddie’s claustrophobic checking of Vanstone soon appeared to neutralize him, and Mike had more room to shine for Toronto. Within a ten-minute span that began near the end of the second period and carried into the third, Mike assisted on another goal by Alex and then tipped one in to give Toronto a 4–1 lead. Moments later, a New York forward grabbed the puck and tried to skate by Mike on a rush. Mike dropped down and executed a perfect hip check, sending the player airborne and gaining control of the puck.
Mike Hill might have just played the best ten minutes of hockey I’ve ever seen, folks!
With less than five minutes left in the third, the fans settled into a comfortable lull and their team was about to win the first game of the series. This night belonged to Mike Hill, who had a point on all four goals his team scored.
Toronto clearly had the momentum going into Game 2, and this point was not lost on New York’s big defenceman Marty Reed.
Toronto, coasting home to victory here in Game 1… Banion takes the puck – and Hill was hit! Inside the line by Reed!
As the crowd gasped and many shot out of their seats furiously, Alex looked to his left and saw Mike lying motionless on the ice. He immediately dropped his gloves and went after Marty Reed, who saw him coming and dropped his gloves too.
And this is going to draw Bucco and Reed into something! They’re throwing punches and oohhhh! Bucco is NAILING Reed! Now Reed fights back. Hill was hit…he’s still down…Hill hasn’t moved…and Bucco dropped his gloves and went right after the New York defenceman…no nonsense here…two of the tough guys…they’re going at it for sure! Just flailing away on each other!
The two linesmen were standing by, but they looked afraid to intervene as Alex and Marty Reed continued to throw wild punches.
Here’s another uppercut from Alex! Now Reed lands one! Back and forth! The linesmen finally get involved and pull these two apart.
Reed tried to hold onto one of Alex’s arms, but Alex successfully yanked his arm free and skated toward the penalty box to a tremendous ovation. One of the linesmen redirected him toward the bench. With only a few minutes left in the game, he and Reed were going to their dressing rooms.
When it became obvious that Alex’s punches had created a sizeable cut above Reed’s nose and the cameras showed blood pouring down his face, the crowd went wild. Replays showed Alex connecting with three quick, devastating blows. While Reed was on his way off the ice to the New York dressing room, a camera operator shoved his rig right in his face. Reed put a hand on the lens and pushed the camera away as he went by.
In the meantime, things on the ice were still chaotic. Mike had gotten back up to his knees and was being tended to by the team’s trainer. Diana had come over to the bench and was about to go on the ice to check on Mike, but she was held back as the hostilities between the players continued. Isaac, Curtis and Eddie skated by the New York bench and Isaac tugged on one of the New York players’ sticks.
Cole tried to keep up with the action.
Another scrap’s broken out, fo
r those of you who are interested. Barry Davis is tangled up with a New York forward…I don’t know who, because Davis has sat on him… Boy, these are nasty feelings now, folks.
Mike finally got to his feet and skated by the New York bench as his teammates were being led away by the referee. Mike made eye contact with Wayne Vanstone.
“That’s real classy,” Mike called out to the New York captain. “Real classy.”
The New York coach and Ken were also having a shouting match between the two benches, which were only separated by a thin partition.
It wasn’t long before the New York coach made a funny face to mock Ken’s anger, which brought Ken rushing over for a closer confrontation. Freddy Rozelli and a few players grabbed him.
And there’s Toronto’s head coach, Ken Hornsby, saying if you want to play that way, you’re going to have to go through me too.
Everyone finally settled down and some players from both teams were ejected.
Toronto won the game 4–1.
55.
For the first time since they started their father–son bonding sessions, Matt did not feel up to their seedy routine of food, sex and drugs. He asked his father if they could find a quiet place to eat, preferably a dark bar somewhere.
Matt’s father agreed, and they soon found themselves in a not-so-dark bar on Danforth Avenue, in the heart of Toronto’s Greektown. The smell of grilled souvlaki and gyros filled the street, but Matt still wanted a bar scene. They found a place that he could tolerate.
“So, is Bucco okay?” Matt’s father laughed. “He probably busted up his hand.”
“He’s okay,” Matt confirmed. “We actually had reporters in our dressing room for the first time, mostly wanting to talk to him about the scrap.”
“Man, he’s a tough SOB. How about the Indian guy, whatshisname…Hill?”
“He’s okay, too,” Matt replied. “Alex’s girlfriend, the doctor, she had a look at him. He’s lucky.”
Matt’s father offered to get them some female company for later. Surprisingly, Matt declined, and they sat quietly for the next few minutes.
“What’s the matter?” his father asked. “You’re sipping on that beer like an old lady.”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon, Mattie. You can tell your old man.”
That was all the push Matt needed. He described coming home to his boat a few days ago and finding it entirely cleaned out. He talked about his on-again, off-again relationship with Rachel and told his father about the last night he saw her and how she left in a huff. Matt believed that Rachel went to the boat while he was away playing hockey and took everything just to get him back. Her phone number no longer worked.
“Well, that’s bullshit, Mattie,” his father protested. “Why don’t you go and look for her? Want me to look for her?”
Matt shook his head and explained that Rachel could easily find some street muscle to lean on if she wanted to. It wasn’t worth the risk just to get a mattress and microwave back – and his laptop. He really missed that more than anything, though he wouldn’t tell his father why.
Their food arrived, and Matt didn’t touch his plate while his father enthusiastically dove right into his own food. Matt was just starting to say he felt badly for how he treated Rachel when his father slammed his fork down.
“Are you kidding?” Matt’s father interrupted. “Haven’t you learned anything from me, Mattie? Fuck ’em and leave ’em.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay, let’s do that,” Matt’s father agreed. “I want to talk about something serious.”
“Sure.”
“If I asked you to name one thing I’m good at, what would you say?”
“Making money,” Matt replied without hesitation.
“That’s exactly right,” his father boasted. “Making money.”
“Yeah, so? It’s no secret.”
“So, I see a chance for us to make money together.”
“How?”
His father looked around to see if anyone was listening before leaning in closer, like he was going to reveal the secret to the location of the Holy Grail.
“The Tournament,” he whispered.
“Huh?”
“This tournament, Mattie. And I’m talking serious cash.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Did you know that money’s being made off every game you’re playing? Why shouldn’t you be part of that? It’s not fair.”
“Are you talking about betting?” Matt asked in disbelief.
“I’m talking about investing,” his father answered. “The best part is, you don’t have to put up a dime and we’ll split everything fifty-fifty.”
“You want me to throw the games?” Matt asked incredulously.
“I just want you to be mindful of your efforts and avoid risking injury,” his father answered, like he’d rehearsed that comment in the event of an interrogation.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?!”
Matt looked away and did not respond.
“Mattie, how do you make money?” his father asked.
“I sell stuff online,” Matt responded. “I don’t need a lot.”
With his old laptop gone, Matt would have to figure out a way to replace it. Laptops cost money.
“What if you didn’t have to do that?” his father asked. “I could put a pile of cash in your lap that would let you kick back and enjoy yourself for a while.”
“I don’t think so,” Matt replied weakly.
“C’mon, son,” his father persisted. “You said it yourself. I know how to make money. Let me look out for you.”
Matt pushed his plate away and sank further into his chair.
“Just think about it,” his father said.
56.
Post-game in the Toronto dressing room, Alex Bucco held court with the media.
“I saw Reed coming across and then I saw our best player lying on the ice and he hadn’t gotten back up,” Alex said. “Maybe if he got right back up it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he didn’t…so I, uh, I just went over to talk to Marty.”
“You mean fight?” Brooks asked.
“I guess you could say that,” Alex replied.
“What else would you call it?” Brooks pressed on.
“I would call it a conversation using non-verbal communication,” Alex responded, to snickers from the other reporters and some of his teammates.
A television replay showed Mike crossing centre ice and making a pass to Isaac. Reed then came steamrolling through centre and took a run at Mike with his arms raised. What perhaps started out as a clean hit became dirty, as the replay clearly showed Reed’s skates leaving the ice and his elbow connecting with Mike’s chin, which caused Mike to hit the ice hard.
“Do you think Marty Reed is a dirty player?” Brooks asked.
“Not necessarily,” Alex responded. “But that wasn’t a clean hit.”
“But why start a fight?” Brooks asked as other reporters moaned. None of them could get a word in.
Alex looked at him and smiled. He could tell Brooks thrived on this kind of attention.
“You did start the fight, didn’t you?” Brooks persisted.
“Look, the way I was raised and the way I understand the game, if someone messes with people you care about…your teammates, you stand up for them. You do what you have to do. If you don’t agree with that, then you’re entitled to your opinion.”
“I just asked you a simple question,” Brooks shot back.
“And I answered it,” Alex replied before looking at the other reporters. “Anyone else have a question?”
Another reporter pushed by Brooks to ask Alex something.
Brooks withdrew from the scrum and felt his face go red. He decided it was time to discharge the weapon he had kept loaded for a while.
He would wait for the bright lights of New York City.
Back in his dark apartment, Havock picked up his p
hone and made a call as he watched Alex interviewed on TV.
“Hey…it’s me,” Havock said into the phone. “Let’s get ready for a visit. Yeah, he will. I’m gonna give him a good reason.”
57.
As Curtis drove around the streets of Megan’s neighbourhood following his team’s triumphant Game 1 victory, he realized that he was growing tired of one post-game drama after another. At least when the team was on the road, he could escape everything for a day or two. He probably should’ve seen this coming, but he still could not believe that Megan’s son Jimmy ran away from home.
“He’s never done this before?” Curtis asked a frantic Megan after returning to her house.
“No, never,” she cried.
“How do you know he ran away?”
“Because a lot of his clothes are missing and he took one of his big knapsacks, Curtis!”
Curtis had a look in Jimmy’s room. The kid left half-empty drawers open for Megan to find. He didn’t know Jimmy well enough to get a sense of whether he was just seeking attention, or if he really ran away.
He drove over to the friend’s home where he’d found Jimmy last time. Curtis expected conflict, but he was surprised when the father and his son both expressed concern for Jimmy’s welfare.
Curtis got back in his car to continue looking. When he pulled into a 24-hour Tim Hortons drive-thru for a coffee to try and stay awake, Megan called and said her son had been brought home by the police.
He drove back to the house and anticipated a big scene. However, the police were gone, and everything was eerily quiet. The door to Jimmy’s bedroom was closed. Megan sat at her kitchen table drinking from a very full glass of wine. The mostly empty bottle was in front of her.
Curtis closed the front door and looked at her. She smiled meekly back at him.
“He okay?” Curtis asked.
She nodded.
The Tournament Page 39
