The Tournament

by Angelo Kontos

  Realizing that Todd looked sad, Alex spoke up.

  “We miss you out there, buddy,” Alex said.

  The rest of the players mumbled in agreement, and a few came up behind Todd to slap him on the back. As the players got ready to line up and head out for the extra period, Freddy Rozelli leaned in close to Matt.

  “Your mother is here,” Freddy said.

  Matt looked up, stunned. “How do you know?”

  “She’s in the crowd, man,” Freddy replied. “She’s here.”

  Matt was at a loss for words as Alex stood up in the middle of the dressing room. His teammates knew what Alex was about to say, and they all needed him to say it:

  “Let’s get it.”

  It was an interesting time to try a brand-new line combination, but Freddy and Ken had agreed to give it a go.

  Freddy’s exact words were, “Fuck it. Why not?”

  Eddie went out on the ice again with Mike, but instead of Isaac or Curtis, Alex was moved up to the wing. Barry dropped back on defence with another player from lower down on the roster, which under the circumstances seemed very risky.

  New York had Marty Reed on the back end and Wayne Vanstone up front to start, which was no surprise. Eddie won the opening draw with his usual soccer antics, but this time as the play moved away from the referee, Vanstone gave Eddie a quick slash above his foot. Eddie looked at Vanstone and saw the familiar angry red flashes. He thought about chasing Vanstone all over the ice, but instead joined the play as Toronto moved the puck forward.

  After exchanging a few scoring chances and following a glorious save by Matt “The Cat” on a one-timer that made everyone in the rink gasp, Toronto brought the puck back the other way. Alex took a pass near centre with his head down and coming across the middle of the ice like a freight train again was Marty Reed. He ran over Alex and took the puck. Alex hit the ice so hard his helmet came off.

  The crowd booed as Reed used the opportunity to create an odd man rush while Alex got onto his knees and started crawling. The referee wouldn’t blow the whistle, and Alex looked up at the Toronto bench. He had to get there. He couldn’t see Diana, but he imagined she wanted him to get there too.

  Alex leaned on his stick and tried to get up. He felt a wave washing over him again, but he told himself that everything was okay. He looked down into Toronto’s zone and saw a mad scramble near his team’s net. Alex pushed himself to skate toward the bench and it was now within reach. Isaac was ready to jump on.

  “My man! Get off!” he yelled.

  As Alex inched closer, Isaac looked up the ice and then back at Alex. Eddie was completing a ferocious backcheck on Vanstone and overpowered him to regain control of the puck. He kicked a pass over to Mike who saw Alex near centre. Marty Reed of New York picked up on what was about to happen and dashed back as Mike aimed at the boards and expertly fired a long bank pass.

  Isaac now looked frantically at Alex. “Go, man! Go! Go!”

  Alex saw the puck coming and had a split second to decide if he could do it. At first, it looked like he was out of gas and would just tip Mike’s pass into New York’s zone in favour of returning to the bench. However, at the last possible moment, Alex turned and picked the puck up when it came off the boards.

  The crowd leapt to its feet as Alex went in on a partial breakaway with Reed nipping at his heels, slashing and hacking. Alex pumped his numb legs as hard as he could to skate faster. He looked up just in time to see the New York goalie come out of his net to challenge him.

  Alex went for a quick deke and the New York goalie went down after missing his poke-check attempt. Alex then skated to his right and with Reed assaulting him, he prepared to take a backhand shot, but instead kept skating off toward the side and the crowd yelled at him to shoot. Alex was playing a hunch that he was familiar with the sound of the skates he heard coming up the ice…and he had to time it perfectly.

  Instead of shooting, Alex kept Reed chasing him. With the New York goalie sprawled out on the ice waving his arms and legs frantically to try and stop the anticipated shot, Alex closed his eyes and tucked the puck between his legs.

  It went through Alex’s skates, then Reed’s skates, past the goalie and across the slot in front of the empty net. Flying up the ice and well ahead of Vanstone who was trying to catch him, Eddie Mark propelled himself through the air with his stick in a shooting position and as he was about to land, he fired the puck into the top of the net before flopping onto the ice violently and crashing into the boards.

  Bucco goes around the poke check and still has it! A SHOT! Wait, NO! Oh! Look at that pass! HERE COMES EDDIE MARK! DIVING…HE SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORES!!!!!!

  Alex looked to the rafters with his arms raised and felt weightless as the arena erupted in the most incredible sound he had ever heard. He would later tell Diana that he didn’t remember dropping his stick or ripping his jersey off while his teammates poured onto the ice from the bench to kick off the huge celebration. He didn’t even see Eddie crash into the boards after scoring. All Alex remembered thinking, as he skated back toward centre to greet Matt and the rest of the team, was that it was over.

  All of it. Over.

  The scene on the ice was chaotic as Mike helped the team’s trainer hurry over to Eddie, who had slowly gotten up on his hands and knees behind the New York net while the ecstatic fans pounded the glass and continued to carry on in pure jubilation. The entire Toronto team then skated down the ice toward Eddie with their arms raised in victory.

  By the time they got to him, Eddie had made it to his feet and the crowd managed to find another gear to be even louder.

  Eddie appeared to be okay. He flashed a relieved smile as Curtis grabbed him, and with the help of a few other players they put him up on their shoulders.

  Cole Foster was yelling and making every effort to be heard above the pandemonium.

  They were not supposed to be competitive, this Toronto team! But their organizers got Ken Hornsby, then added Freddy Rozelli behind the bench and together they took this team to the top! Toronto HAS WON THE TOURNAMENT!

  Down near the ice surface, Helen ran over to Angus again and they hugged.

  “This has been really somethin’,” Angus said.

  Helen smiled and kissed Angus on his cheek.

  In the stands, Corey sat and watched as the fans near him ran down closer to the glass. He looked around and grinned as he took everything in before spotting Helen.

  He knew what he had to do and was at peace with it.

  Isaac left the ice and worked his way through the high- fiving and back-slapping crowd until he got to Melanie and little Sofe-Sofe. He picked his girl up and tickled her while Melanie looked on, happy and nervous at the same time.

  Mike’s family was not far from there. Mike skated over and put his hand up against the glass. All three of his boys put their hands up on the other side. Mike smiled at them and Becky before returning to centre for the team handshakes and ceremony. He looked up at the arena ceiling. He still missed his father so much.

  The players from New York waited together in their zone respectfully and finally lined up to shake hands with Toronto. As the players went through the line, Marty Reed reached out and pulled Alex in close to tell him that he was a “warrior.” Alex thanked him and replied that he was too. When it came time for Wayne Vanstone to shake hands with Mike, Vanstone told Mike that he was the best player in The Tournament. Mike thanked him and said that he was all class.

  The teams then lined up on their respective blue lines. A small group of people came on the ice with a rolling table full of medals. They were The Tournament’s main organizing committee. No one had ever seen them before.

  Corey was asked to come down and hand out medals to the players, but he politely declined and pointed to Helen. He said that she was the right person to do it.

  When she was informed of this, Helen was surprised but she reacted quickly and came onto the ice. With the assistance of the committee, Helen made h
er way down the line and in a scene reminiscent of an Olympic ceremony, she put a medal over the head of each player.

  She smiled warmly when she got to Alex, and he smiled back.

  The coaches were the last to receive medals and got the loudest cheers, even though there was still a smattering of boos when Ken got his. Although she denied doing so later, Ken could have sworn that he looked up and saw Pertia waving her cane menacingly at someone in the stands.

  Following the medal ceremony, Mike and Alex were named co-MVPs and held up a large plaque together as their teammates and fans applauded. Then with the medals around their necks and their sticks in the air, the Toronto players all followed Alex and Mike as they skated laps around the rink to salute their fans.

  And there you have it, folks. What started out as a small tournament is finally over. Whoever would have expected all this? What a series! What a tournament.

  The players began to leave the ice. Isaac grabbed Alex and pointed.

  “Look at that!”

  Alex looked over and saw Barry Davis in the crowd hugging a woman and two teenage boys.

  “Look at how normal his wife and kids look!” Isaac exclaimed.

  Alex laughed as he and Isaac left the ice together.

  As Matt continued to raise his goalie stick in the air for the fans, he caught a glimpse of his mother. She had the unmistakable look of a proud parent.

  Alex headed off to the dressing room and thought the last words he heard from Cole Foster summed everything up beautifully.

  Ohhhhhh, baby.

  94.

  After everyone had a chance to sleep and come down a bit from the thrill of winning The Tournament, Helen and Greg Sloane joined forces one last time to organize a rally for the team at Nathan Phillips Square, outside Toronto’s City Hall. The large open area in front of the municipal buildings readily lent itself to a party, complete with a stage for summer concerts and New Year’s Eve bashes.

  The team was on stage in all its glory the next afternoon and Cole Foster was the master of ceremonies. There was no real program, but everyone agreed that Alex should say a few words. The crowd that gathered was no street parade, but it once again exceeded expectations.

  In an impromptu performance, Isaac Banion took over the stage with his guitar and jammed for nearly twenty full minutes. He had new sunglasses and was, at least for the moment, a rock star. Alex sighed. All was right with the world.

  It was not long afterward that Alex heard his name being called.

  A screen had been put up beside the stage, and when Alex got up to join Cole the crowd cheered as the screen showed highlights of Alex’s play – a few of his goals, some of his more assertive hits, the fight with Marty Reed. The clip finished with a replay of his unconventional pass to an airborne Eddie Mark to win it all.

  “So, Alex,” Cole began. “When that game-winning goal was scored, what was going through your mind?”

  The crowd continued to cheer loud enough that Alex had to wait for them to bring it down a bit before answering.

  “Well, Coley, if New York’s net was about ten feet from where you and I are standing” – Alex turned his body sideways – “I was about here when I looked over my shoulder and saw Eddie fire the puck into the net. That was game over, series over, party time. That’s what that was.”

  Cole laughed and Alex’s teammates all clapped in response. Alex moved closer to the mike that Cole was holding in front of him and continued.

  “You know, I just want to start by thanking all of you…the fans. None of us up here could ever say enough about your support and on behalf of all of us, I’m glad we came through for you.”

  That moment seemed to be a natural place to cheer, and Alex paused as the crowd went for it.

  “I want to thank our coaches, Ken Hornsby and Freddy Rozelli. Coach Hornsby is one of the biggest influences I’ve ever had, and it’s been an honour for me to be his captain again. I’d jump out of a plane to play for him. And as good as he is, I don’t think we would’ve won without Freddy. I hope the league recognizes that people make mistakes and put him back playing where he belongs.”

  Freddy nodded his appreciation as the crowd and the rest of the Toronto players nodded and clapped in agreement.

  “I just want to say that when I look at these guys up here,” Alex continued, “I mean, it started out rough, but we battled through everything. We played hard, we played hurt…we played scared, and we played tired…but we loved to play.”

  Alex turned and faced his teammates.

  “These guys…this team…has more heart than any team I’ve ever been on in my life, and I’m proud of us…Thank you.”

  After the rally was over, Toronto players got off the stage to join the crowd and mingle. Alex made sure he was close to Ken just in case anyone tried something. Ken confided to Alex that he was receiving death threats and was working discreetly with the police on handling each one. He’d also unlisted his phone number and hired security to be outside his home.

  Despite that underlying tension, the mood was buoyant as the players shook hands with their supporters and took photos. Freddy was posing for so many photographs that Ken joked he was making up for missed opportunities.

  At one point, Alex noticed Corey standing off to the side of the stage by himself and called him over. Alex turned to face the throng of media and put his arm around Corey, who put his arm back around Alex and grinned for the cameras. It was an obnoxious grin, but somehow Alex did not mind. Alex then noticed Barry standing happily with his wife and kids and thought it would be fitting if he approached him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Get out of here, man!” Barry exclaimed as he pushed Alex away.

  Barry’s family laughed as he wiped his cheek.

  “Just curious, but how come you never talked?” Alex asked. “We all thought you were, how should I say this…a foaming-at-the-mouth, psychotic serial killer.”

  “I had to be in my zone, man,” Barry responded. “That’s how I do.”

  He and Alex shook hands.

  “You’re a tough son of a bitch,” Alex said. “It was great playing with you.”

  Eventually, the crowd began to thin out and the team faced the melancholy task of going to the rink and cleaning out their stalls. Alex wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, and not just because the thought of letting go of The Tournament made him sad. He and Diana had plans to fully move her back into the apartment later that night.

  95.

  Mike was the first one ready to leave the rink. He still had to clean his stuff out of the Peters’ basement before hitting the road one final time for the two-hour drive home. He and Alex had a long embrace in the middle of the dressing room, and they only let go after Alex promised to visit for a game of pickup ball hockey with Mike and the kids at the youth centre. They agreed to do a better job of staying in touch. If the last fifteen years taught them anything, it was that life was short.

  “Thanks for everything, Bucs,” Mike said. “It’s been unreal.”

  “You got it, Chief,” Alex replied.

  After Mike packed up all his belongings at the Peters residence and finished loading his car, he gave Becky a call to let her know that he was on his way. She’d come down with the boys in their second car and left right after the rally to get their sons home. They had homework to do, and their rooms were a mess, she said.

  Before they hung up, Becky had more news for Mike.

  “Mike, I heard something about the friend you took for a walk in the woods,” she said.

  “What’d you hear?”

  “He’s in jail,” Becky answered. “The story goes that he was driving home drunk at two in the morning. There was a cop sitting in his cruiser writing out a ticket for someone he’d just pulled over and Tom drove right into him from behind. The cop’s okay, but Tom’s in jail for impaired driving and whatever else.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mike?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

&
nbsp; “I really don’t think he meant to –”

  “I know,” Mike said. “Tell the boys I’ll be home soon. Just have a stop to make.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Instead of going home, Mike pulled into the Central East Correctional Centre in the small town of Lindsay. With somewhere between six and seven hundred correctional officers and the capacity to hold more than one thousand inmates, it was known as a “superjail.”

  Mike sat at a table in a heavily guarded room waiting for Tom to be brought out. He wasn’t sure if Tom would agree to meet with him – for all he knew Tom would start yelling that Mike assaulted him in the woods. Tom was finally led in, and he sat down in front of Mike with his hands in cuffs and a corrections officer standing closely behind him. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

  “If my father had run you over while he was drunk,” Mike began, “all anyone would be talking about, and especially a guy like your uncle, is how much Indians drink and how they’re lazy. And here you are knocking people down like bowling pins.”

  Mike pulled a note out of his pocket and the officer standing behind Tom became tense.

  “It’s just an address to a community centre,” Mike said.

  “Huh?” Tom asked.

  “If you need some help, come by our centre,” Mike said.

  Mike dropped the paper on the table and got up to leave.

  “Why are you doing this?” Tom asked.

  “Every kid deserves a chance to have a father,” Mike replied.

  96.

  Curtis was on a mission following the noon rally at Nathan Phillips Square.

  From City Hall he crossed the street to the Toronto Eaton Centre to buy some flowers and chocolate. From there, he made his way down Yonge Street to the restaurant where he used to work. Unless the place had completely changed, they would be right in the middle of their power lunch hour.