The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  “They caught him stealing a bag of chips and a drink from the gas station,” Megan explained. “There were two cops in there and one of them saw him stuffing the chips inside his jacket.”

  Curtis walked over to Megan and hugged her. She buried her face into one of his massive arms.

  “What am I going to do with him?” Megan sighed.

  He gently pulled himself away and gave her a kiss on the forehead before going to the bedroom and shutting the door. Megan continued to work on the wine until Curtis reappeared with his large duffel bag. His hockey bag was nearby, and he grabbed that too.

  Megan got up and ran over to him.

  “Curtis, no,” she pleaded.

  “You can’t choose me over your son,” Curtis said. “You said so yourself.”

  “Curtis, I’ll talk to him.”

  “You’re a great mother, Meg,” Curtis said. “He’s just a kid.”

  “Curtis, please, this can’t be it.”

  He pulled her in close.

  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Curtis decided it was time to get out of there. He gave Megan one more kiss, grabbed his bags and quietly walked out.

  He still had no desire to check into a motel, and he didn’t have to. Curtis had managed to secure his mother’s house key before leaving the hospital a few days ago. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud after realizing exactly where he was going. With his mother still in hospital, the house was empty, and Curtis would return home.

  58.

  When Diana and Alex first met at grief counselling as teenagers, she quickly realized that as compassionate and sensitive as Alex was, he also had a hair-trigger temper and wouldn’t think twice about taking someone on if he believed the cause was just.

  That was on display again during Game 1 after Marty Reed took a cheap shot at Mike. In a world full of grey, Alex’s sense of honour was very black and white – and most of the time, over the years, she had loved that about him.

  Two of his knuckles were bruised from the fight and Diana wrapped them in ice back at the apartment. She decided to stay over again. Alex was also grateful that Diana spared him her usual “Men and Sports” lecture. He believed that, although she would never admit it, she at least partially approved of him dropping his gloves and sticking up for a fallen teammate.

  They lay in bed together and talked.

  “Do you think the fight is going to spill over into Game

  2?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I’ve got eight more knuckles I can use.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Do your parents know we’re back together?”

  “I think my father has a sense even though I haven’t said anything,” Diana replied. “My mother might be in denial.”

  Alex fell asleep in Diana’s arms, and she drifted off a few minutes later.

  “Wake up! Did you hear that?” Diana whispered urgently as she shook Alex’s arm in bed.

  She looked at the little alarm clock on the night table. It was 3:00 a.m.

  “Huh? What is it?” Alex muttered.

  “Someone’s ringing the buzzer downstairs,” she said.

  “You’re just hearing things, Dee,” he replied as he turned over. “Maybe you dreamt it.”

  Diana sat up in bed and listened. Nothing at first, but then…

  The buzzer rang again and again…and again.

  Jumping out of bed dressed only in his boxers and T-shirt,

  Alex ran for the door. Diana stood in his way as the buzzer continued to go off incessantly.

  “Where are you going?” she asked nervously.

  “Get out of the way!”

  “Alex, you have no idea who that is. You can’t just go running down there. Don’t be crazy!”

  Alex grabbed Diana by both arms and gently moved her to one side before picking up his bat and running out the front door.

  “Stay in there!” he yelled as he rushed down the stairs.

  Unsure of what he would run into when he got to the lobby of the building, Alex made sure to pace himself just enough that he wouldn’t be completely out of breath. Within a minute, he had descended nine flights and burst into the lobby.

  He didn’t see anyone there. Alex ran out the front entrance and onto the street. With his heart beating furiously in his ears, he looked to his left and right and saw nothing except a car driving away in the distance.

  “Alex?”

  It was Diana calling down from their balcony.

  Alex looked up and waved at her to go back inside.

  “Everything’s okay,” he assured her. “Probably just a prank.”

  Diana fell back asleep fairly quickly, but Alex lay in bed wide awake for the rest of the night.

  59.

  For someone as self-absorbed as he usually was, Corey had felt little interest in women since his tumultuous split from Helen. He was a free man now and could sleep with as many Asian women as possible. Surprisingly, though, the idea did not appeal to him.

  Corey was trying to enjoy the fact that Toronto was in the Final. He made up his mind that he would return to his “executive” seat in the stands. After all, none of this would have taken place without his vision. As for Helen’s contributions, perhaps he’d overstated how significant they were. It was true that she operationalized everything, but so what? If someone supplied him with all the ingredients needed to prepare a good meal and then preheated the oven, he might come across as an excellent cook.

  After cleaning himself up and dressing in one of his expensive suits, Corey went to the arena and approached Angus Miller to go over a list of things, such as whether the bathrooms were clean. Corey hadn’t done this since before the round robin, but he felt a need to re-establish that he was still in charge.

  He walked up to Angus from behind and caught the tail end of a conversation that Angus was having with a security guard.

  “Better keep some of your people on for a few hours after the game,” Angus suggested. “Especially with Bucco and Mrs. Peters hanging around late.”

  “Hanging around late where?” Corey asked a startled Angus, who spun around to face him, keys jingling.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Peters?” Angus asked, more politely than anyone was used to hearing him speak.

  “Where do Alex Bucco and my wife hang out after the game?” Corey repeated.

  “Bucco’s always the last one out of the dressing room and Helen usually works late in her office, that’s all.”

  Angus was visibly squirming. Corey thanked him for doing a good job and walked away.

  Depending on when Helen and Alex started fooling around, it would certainly take away from her holier-than-thou attitude when it came to their crumbling marriage. The more Corey thought about it, the more he believed that his wife and Toronto’s captain were involved. They had a prior history, after all.

  Corey heard that Alex and his former girlfriend Diana were together again, but whether they were or not, Alex knew Helen was married. Corey decided that after The Tournament was over, he would punch Alex in the face, hopefully breaking his nose in the process.

  During Game 2, Toronto was in trouble early and Corey wondered if his thought of breaking Alex’s nose had anything to do with it. Superstitious or not, it was hard for him not to think so after watching a freak play take out one of Toronto’s most important players, Eddie Mark.

  While killing a penalty, Eddie rushed to the point to block a shot from New York’s Marty Reed, who was booed mercilessly by the fans every time he came near the puck. As Reed wound up, Eddie came at him and the hard shot ended up deflecting off Eddie’s stick and coming up under his visor, smashing his nose.

  Eddie crumbled to the ice and his face was a bloody mess. The crowd was all over Reed, although it clearly wasn’t his fault. Alex rushed to his fallen teammate while Mike skated quickly to the Toronto bench to help the college trainer get over to Eddie.

  Eddie groggily got back up holding a b
lood-soaked towel to his nose. With support from Alex and Curtis, he slowly made his way to the bench and disappeared into the back of the arena, where paramedics were waiting to take him to the hospital.

  The Toronto players pushed themselves to rally around their injured teammate and talked about winning the game for him. They even scored the game’s first goal, and for a while it looked like they could get over losing Eddie and gut out another victory

  However, it soon became apparent that without Eddie’s superb checking skills and proficiency on faceoffs, Toronto had no way to contain Wayne Vanstone. By the end of the second period, New York had taken a 2–1 lead on two gorgeous goals by Vanstone. It seemed their coaching staff had caught on to Toronto’s approach of taking away all of Vanstone’s possible passing options, so they told him to shoot the puck instead…and he did.

  To the crowd’s dismay, Vanstone added another one for a natural hat trick to give New York a 3–1 lead with just over five minutes to go. Toronto managed to respond by sneaking one past New York’s goalie, but New York ran out the clock.

  They won Game 2 by a score of 3–2. The teams would travel to New York with the series tied at a game apiece.

  The news about Eddie was not good. His nose was broken. The nasal fracture was severe enough that Diana said he would need a rhinoplasty and there was little to no chance he would be able to return for the rest of The Tournament.

  Corey swung by the team dressing room on the way out, but he did not say anything. He suspected that the heavy mood among the players had more to do with the news about Eddie than losing the game.

  By the time Corey left the arena, the crowd had dispersed and it was quiet. He hailed a cab for the short distance to his new apartment.

  60.

  After receiving a phone call from Becky following the disappointing loss, Mike made his way back home to Curve Lake as quickly as possible.

  “Mike, your dad’s old store,” Becky had said over the phone. “There’s been a fire. I wanted you to know.”

  Mike drove to the store and saw yellow caution tape around a makeshift perimeter set up by police. Fire crews were still there pouring water, but the flames seemed to be extinguished and were smouldering.

  A small crowd of residents were standing behind the tape and taking in the scene. Mike parked a short distance away and walked over to join them. As he looked on at his father’s old store, he could see the fire had completely destroyed it and ash was blowing every which way.

  “Looks pretty bad,” Mike said aloud in the hopes that his comment might stimulate conversation.

  “Place is a write-off,” a man standing nearby said. “I saw it when they got here. Flames were goin’ twenty feet in the air…burnin’ from the inside.”

  “Anyone hurt? Was Tom in there?” Mike asked.

  “Nope,” a woman answered. “And Tom wasn’t in there.”

  “Lucky guy, I guess,” Mike said.

  The man and woman looked at each other and laughed.

  “You don’t know Tom,” the man snickered.

  “What’s that mean?” Mike asked.

  “Means luck’s got nothing to do with it,” the woman replied. “You gotta know the family. This is probably some insurance scam.”

  The man took a good look at Mike and his eyes suddenly widened. He leaned in and whispered something into the woman’s ear.

  Mike went back to his car and decided he would crash for a few hours at home in the comfort of his own bed before returning to have a longer, more uninterrupted look at the remains of the store after all these people had gone.

  Setting a fire deliberately to get insurance money? What kind of person would do such a thing?

  The kind of person who might run over someone with a car.

  61.

  Scrambling to save Freddy Rozelli from complete self-destruction provided sports agent Greg Sloane with a few moments of personal clarity. The entire sordid affair involving his star client had the unexpected effect of making Sloane reflect on his own life.

  On the plus side, Sloane made his family lots of money. They were financially secure, which is not something he could have said about his own childhood. However, the constant push to secure player contracts and the 24/7 nature of completing deals had taken its toll. Despite the money, his wife appeared to be resenting him more each year. She often mentioned how attentive Sloane used to be when they first met. He was also increasingly detached from his two children. Because of the long hours he put in at the office, they were learning to live without him.

  What good was making money if it meant being alienated from those that he was supposed to be closest to? How soon before his wife hit a breaking point and either left him or cheated, or both? When might his kids just start completely ignoring him altogether?

  He started to turn potential clients away. Ironically, playing hard to get led to more phone calls and a greater demand for his services. Sloane slowed himself right down and spent more time with his wife and children. It wasn’t long before his wife seemed happier; his kids enjoyed his company, and for the first time in years Sloane felt stress leave his body.

  At first, he thought of Helen’s request for him to handle team publicity as more work, but like many others, he got caught up in the spirit of The Tournament and agreed to organize press conferences and help oversee social media.

  Now that there was a much larger media circus to deal with, Helen asked Sloane to travel with the team for the first time to New York City. The players, along with Sloane and broadcaster Cole Foster, all checked into a hotel near the United Nations buildings.

  Sloane decided to hold Toronto’s next presser in one of the hotel’s meeting rooms. As he led Ken and Alex to their seats at a table behind a large podium, he looked up and noticed the room was more crowded than any press conference he had planned in recent memory.

  Everything started routinely enough.

  One reporter asked about Eddie’s condition. Ken replied that Eddie was home and had undergone surgery to repair his nose.

  “Will he come back?”

  “Probably not,” Ken replied.

  “Even if the series goes six or seven games?”

  “I can’t see it.”

  Another reporter asked Ken to explain how he thought losing Eddie would affect his team’s chances of winning The Tournament.

  “You cannot replace an Eddie Mark,” Ken responded. “He brings a lot to the table, a lot of things that aren’t glamourous, but necessary to win. We’re going to have to find a way to play without him and I believe in our guys.”

  Alex was then asked if he and Marty Reed exchanged any words during Game 2, even though it was obvious to anyone who watched that they pretty much left each other alone.

  “No,” Alex shook his head. “And I’ve got nothing against Marty. He’s a good player and he’s trying to help his team win.”

  A few more questions were thrown at Ken about the upcoming game.

  How were they going to contain “The Best One,” Wayne Vanstone? Was there any lingering animosity between him and New York’s head coach?

  Sitting very relaxed behind his microphone, Ken fielded the questions calmly.

  Trying to keep Vanstone in check was a huge challenge, Ken explained, but he warned that if his team became too obsessed with that it would hurt them in other areas.

  No, he did not have any ill will toward New York’s coach or anyone else on their team, but no one was going to take liberties with his boys.

  “Even though I’m not on the ice playing, I’m part of this team too,” he said.

  Sloane noticed that Brooks Edwards had not asked a single question, which was unheard of. Sloane stepped forward to thank the reporters for coming and as Ken and Alex got up, Brooks finally made himself heard.

  “I have a question,” he called out. “For the coach.”

  Ken and Alex lowered themselves back into their seats and waited.

  “Is it true that years ago you resigned as head
coach of that university hockey team?” Brooks asked.

  Ken looked frozen. He stared at Brooks before clearing his throat to respond.

  “It’s true that I stepped down from that position,” Ken replied.

  “Why?” Brooks asked.

  “Personal reasons,” Ken answered.

  “Isn’t it true that you were forced to quit because you were accused of having an inappropriate relationship with one of the players?” Brooks asked.

  There were muffled gasps from a few of the reporters, but others shushed them as they wanted to hear Ken’s reply.

  “I did not have any inappropriate relationships with any players,” Ken managed to say firmly.

  “And that your relationship with this player began when you coached him in junior, when he would have been a minor?” Brooks asked.

  “No, never,” Ken said defensively. “That’s an absolute lie.”

  “Then why did you quit?” Brooks persisted.

  Sloane looked at Ken and saw that the coach was reeling. He stepped forward and spoke forcefully.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Sloane said. “This is ridiculous. You can’t just come in here and make accusations.”

  “I’m just asking a few simple questions,” Brooks responded coolly.

  “And Mr. Hornsby has answered them,” Sloane said as he motioned for Ken and Alex to get up and leave the room.

  Ken made his way through the reporters quickly and Alex was close behind him, resembling a human volcano that might erupt at any second.

  “Coach?” Alex called out. “Coach, wait!”

  Ken boarded an elevator just as the doors were about to close. Sloane ran after Alex and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let him go,” Sloane implored Alex. “Give him some space.”

  Alex turned and looked at Sloane in disbelief. “What the hell just happened?”

  62.

  After Ken agreed to go back to coaching for The Tournament, he had made sure his neighbour and friend, Pertia John, had his phone number and could call any time she needed to. Pertia never did call…until now.