by Bob Leroux
Billy’s eyes widened again at that bit of news. He wasn’t so sure he liked the idea of being bossed around by his aunt. He was about to risk an interruption when his father turned to his mother and asked, “Would that be okay with you? It’s not as close as Cornwall, but it might be a good compromise.”
“Yes, that would be acceptable,” she answered with a firmness that forestalled any objection from her son. Then she added, “But Mr. Preston hasn’t mentioned the signing bonus.”
Preston sat up in alarm. “Signing bonus, Mrs. Campbell?”
Anna smiled. “Yes, I understand it’s common practice. In fact, one of the other gentlemen who called mentioned this. The gentleman with the team in Cornwall, I believe.” She said a silent act of contrition even as she continued. “Of course, we would place the money in trust for Billy. It will come in handy, should he decide to go to university.”
Mr. Preston looked to Mr. Costello for help and saw from his shrug there was none to be had. “Ahem, well, it is true in some situations. And your son has a lot of talent, but really, he hasn’t played against a lot of high-calibre competition, has he?”
The Campbells didn’t budge. They knew when it was time to remain silent and wait for an offer. It was beginning to unnerve Preston. He wasn’t used to real negotiations on these standard contracts. But he knew all the scouts at the tournament had been excited by what they had seen in this kid. He decided to take the plunge. “However, in this case, I’m ready to commit our organization to a one thousand dollar signing bonus, if we can complete our negotiations tonight.”
This is like selling a car, Angus thought, as he reminded himself that it was Billy’s dreams they were haggling over. A slight nod from Anna, and he made the counter-offer they had agreed upon. “I was hoping you were going to say three thousand, Mr. Preston, but I tell you what: let’s split the difference. Make it two thousand and write in that guarantee about Ottawa, and we’ll sign tonight.” Before Preston could answer, Angus turned to Billy. “Does that make sense to you, son?”
“I guess so,” was all Billy could muster, not sure he knew what was really happening to him with all this back and forth.
“You guess so? I thought this was what you wanted?” Angus wondered if they were moving too fast.
“Well . . .” Billy hesitated, “Brian and I talked about playing together, with the Marlies. This is a lot different.”
Preston responded with a nervous laugh. “I guess you’re talking about Brian Weir, eh?” When Billy nodded, he continued. “Well, son, we’ll be seeing Brian and his parents this evening. But I can tell you right now, we don’t have any group contracts.” He laughed again and smiled at Angus, hoping at last for some adult empathy.
Angus took pity on him. “Billy, you have to make up your mind. Do you want to play professional hockey, or do you want to play hockey with your friends? You’ll have to start on your own, sometime.”
Billy stared at the floor, feeling like his dream was quickly fading away. The whole idea had been for him and Brian to play together for the Maple Leafs. Now it seemed like that was getting farther and farther away with each new agreement that was reached. Brian might be going to Toronto without him, and he’d be stuck alone in Ottawa, with no guarantee they’d ever get back together. Coach Stanton’s stories about tough times in minor hockey were filling his head.
Still, he hated to give up. What if Brian ended up in Ottawa, too? What if it all worked out the way they planned? He had to keep hoping, he decided. “Yeah, it’s okay. I guess. But I sure hope Brian comes to Ottawa.”
Angus smiled at his sudden uncertainty. “I think that’s the best we can do.” Then he turned back to the scout. “Do we have a deal?”
It was Preston’s turn to squirm. He had been thinking about it while Billy was talking. He didn’t like the condition the Campbells were insisting on. It could cause him some problems. But he knew this kid was good. He had proven in the tournament that he was a natural goal scorer, and he seemed to have the guts to stand up to the heavy checking. There was just something about him that he liked.
He looked over at Costello and saw sympathy in his eyes, but no sign of any help. He started pulling at his shirt collar again. That damn Stanton, he thought. He probably set all this up. And that business about playing in Ottawa. If that ever got out . . . that’s what gave Preston the idea. He gave Angus a big smile and made his own counter-offer. “I tell you what, Mr. Campbell, if you want to get this settled tonight, maybe we can work something out. We’ll make the signing bonus two thousand, conditional on his making the team. And I’ll include that clause about him being assigned to Ottawa. But . . . we’ll add a statement that this condition must remain confidential. That is, neither you nor your son will tell any other hockey organization that we have this agreement. If that happens, that part of the agreement is automatically cancelled. That is, your son would have to play where we ask him.”
Angus smiled. “You mean, where you tell him?”
“Yes, I guess that’s what I mean, all right.”
Angus turned to Billy again. “What do you think? Can you live with that? It looks like that’s the best deal we can get, if you’re still sure it’s the Maple Leafs you want to sign with. There’s other teams, you know.” He patted his shirt pocket. “I got the phone number for another one, right here.”
Billy swallowed the lump in his throat, confused by the sense of dread he felt now that the dream seemed so close to reality. “Does it mean,” he asked, “that I’ll be going to tryouts in Ottawa?”
“That’s right,” Angus answered, as he watched Preston and Costello nodding. “Isn’t that what you expected?”
“Yes, but . . . what if I don’t make it? The team, I mean.”
Angus wondered if he was looking for reassurance. He turned to Preston. “What do you think, Mr. Preston? Has he got what it takes?”
Preston smiled. Now that he had a deal, he could say what he thought. “I’d say his chances are pretty good, sir.” He looked approvingly at Billy as he added, “His skating is already stronger than a lot of the lads we have now in junior, and he’s got the touch around the net. It’s a great combination.”
“That’s good to hear,” Angus responded, “but what about the rough stuff? Tony Stanton seemed to think you were looking for players who could fight.”
“Yes,” Anna added. “You’re not going to turn my son into a gangster, are you?”
Preston took a moment to answer, not sure what Stanton had told them. “Well,” he finally risked, “being able to fight is not as important as some people think. Most teams don’t have more than one or two players who are really good at fighting, Mrs. Campbell. It’s part of the game, yes, but what we’re really looking for is players with heart. That’s what I call it, anyways. Heart: that extra something that makes a player stand up to the opposition, no matter the odds. You know, the desire to fight back, to stand up for yourself. And you can’t teach that. A person has to be born with it. Stanton seems to think your son has that, and I saw some of it in the game I watched. But you’d know that yourselves, better than I would.”
“What do you say, Billy?” Angus asked. “You think you have what it takes?”
Billy wasn’t really listening. He was stuck on what was really starting to worry him. “Uh, yeah, but still, what if I don’t make the team?”
Angus sighed. “Well, if you don’t make it, that’s life, I’m afraid. They can’t guarantee you’ll make — ”
“Yes,” Billy interrupted, “but can I come back home, or do I have to stay in Ottawa?”
Angus and Anna responded with laughter, while the two scouts stifled theirs. They had often joked that there were two kinds of cold feet in their business. Then Anna reached over and put an arm around Billy. “Of course, dear, anytime you want. The school work might be a little tricky, but I’m sure the folks at school would be glad to have you back.”
Angus joked, “Aw, shucks, Anna. Does that mean we can’t rent his r
oom out? I was counting on the extra income.”
Billy laughed at the joke and started to relax a little. “Okay, okay. I was just wondering, is all.”
“Well, you can stop wondering,” Angus answered. “Now. Do you want us to sign this thing, or what?”
Billy straightened up in the chair and slipped from under his mother’s arm. “Yeah, okay. I don’t see why not.”
So the scouts went to work and doctored up two copies of their standard contract and locked Billy Campbell’s hockey talent into the Maple Leafs organization. Everybody was happy. Preston and Costello left thinking they weren’t so dumb, even if they hadn’t finished high school. The Campbells thought they had protected their son from the wiles of two professional hockey scouts, and Billy was already scheming how he and Brian could get on the same team.
As soon as the scouts left, he called his friend and told him about the contract he had just signed, including all the arguments his father had used to get his way. They spent the next hour on the phone speculating about what might be offered to Brian and how they could make sure he ended up in Ottawa, without Billy revealing what he knew about his own contract. By the time they got off the phone, they had convinced themselves they would be teammates again next year.
Billy’s high spirits lasted until noon the next day, when he met Brian and the coach at Shirley’s Restaurant. They were waiting for him in their favourite booth. As soon as he saw their faces, he knew the news wasn’t good. He slid into the seat beside Brian. “What happened?” Billy asked. “Did they show up?”
Brian forced a smile. “Yeah. They left about ten, Preston and his buddy.”
Billy looked to the coach for a clue, then back to Brian. “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you going to Toronto?”
Stanton waited until he saw Brian wasn’t going to answer. “They want to sign him to a contract, but they won’t make a deal for Junior A in Toronto, or Ottawa. They want him to try out for their Junior B team in Hamilton. If he makes it, he’ll play there until they see what he can do. Probably for the first year, at least.”
Brian sighed. “You know what it is, Coach. They don’t think I’m fast enough. I could tell, the way they kept talking about my hitting, how I handled the bigger players. Preston even said that, that the lunch-bucket crowd in Hamilton would love me. They’re thinking about me as some kind of tough guy who could play for one of their bush-league farm teams.”
“Did they tell you that?” Billy was trying not to panic.
Brian started to answer, but just then the waitress arrived. “You guys want menus?” she asked.
Stanton eyed the boys. “You want something. Chips? Or something? I’m buying.”
After they settled on their orders and the waitress left, Stanton looked at their glum faces and started shaking his head. “You fellows are putting too much stock in this contract business. It doesn’t matter what you sign. A contract doesn’t mean you’re going to play for the Maple Leafs. All it means is the pros have noticed you and they’re going to sponsor you for junior. That’s all. You could play junior without signing any contract with the NHL. You just have to try out. A lot of guys do.”
Billy was silent as he looked back and forth from one to the other. All the joy from the night before was evaporating as fast as the doubts were returning.
Brian tried to laugh. “Then why did that big goof come all the way down here to see us about a contract?”
“It’s just to build up a farm system. They sponsor you into junior; then if you want to play professional, you have to play for them. They try to sign up all the good prospects they can. All it means is you showed them enough to make them think you might play in the NHL, some day.”
Billy was encouraged. “Yeah, Brian, a couple of months in Hamilton and you could be up with the Marlies. Or even better, you could come to Ottawa.”
Brian smiled at Billy before he turned to accept his coffee from the waitress. “Thanks, Jackie. Got the weekend shift again?”
The tall brunette set the orders down, then rewarded them with a warm smile. “Yeah, wouldn’t you know it? But I’ll be off in time for the dance tonight. You and Susan going?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Brian tilted his head toward Billy. “This guy’s going, too, right?”
“Guess so,” Billy muttered. “I kind of forgot about it.”
Jackie laughed. “You better not tell Elaine that.”
Brian called after her as she headed back to her station. “Don’t worry, Jackie. I’ll tell her.”
“Shit, Weir,” Billy reacted. “How can you joke at a time like this?”
Brian laughed. “Who says I’m joking?” Then he frowned at Billy’s long face. “C’mon, Campbell, it’s not the end of the world. I just didn’t like the idea of signing up to be somebody’s tough guy, at least not on a Junior B team way down in Hamilton. I’m not even sure where that is.”
Billy caught the tense. “You mean you didn’t sign a contract? Jeez, man! I don’t believe this.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m just not sure. And my parents agreed. I’ve got a better chance of getting my senior matric if I stay here. I’ve been finding it hard, the last year. You know that.”
Billy groaned, and Stanton shook his head in frustration. “You dummies! That contract is just a piece of paper, the bottom rung on a long ladder. Say you do get into juniors,” Stanton looked at Brian, “with or without a contract. After that, it’s all about the survival of the fittest. After three years of juniors, if you make it, and two or three years of getting beat up in the minors, you just might get a chance to play in the NHL. And that one chance, those one or two games where you make it or break it, that may be the only chance you ever get. Dammit!”
“But you said we could make the NHL,” Billy blurted out.
“Yeah, yeah. I did. You got a special gift. Everybody sees that.”
Billy was startled. Stanton had left Brian out.
Brian saw it in his face. “It’s okay, Billy. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. Now you know why it doesn’t matter about me going to Hamilton. Preston doesn’t think I have a chance of making the Leafs, same as Coach.”
“Now, just a minute, Brian,” Stanton growled. “I was not bullshitting you. You might make it, too, if you want to work hard enough. You just don’t have the natural talent Billy has. I didn’t have to tell you that — you’ve known it for years. But you’re both nuts if you think all you have to worry about is just playing hockey. It’s a bloody business, not a game.”
Brian answered, “That’s why I’m staying home, Coach.”
Billy protested. “I know it’s a business, too. I’m not stupid, just because I like the game enough to give up chasing girls all the time.” He glared at Brian. “Besides, you’re the one who’s been talking about playing professional hockey for the last five years, not me.”
Brian shrugged. “I know. I just didn’t like the way it sounded, man. I don’t think I’m interested in riding around the country on an old bus and eating my meals in greasy-spoon restaurants. I told them I’d think about it, that’s all.”
Stanton opened his mouth, planning to remind Brian that all junior teams had to ride the buses, then realized the boy probably knew that. He decided to stay out of it. It was Billy who pushed for more details. “Till when? How long are you going to think about it?”
“I said I’d let them know by Saturday next — a week,” Brian answered. “They gave us a number to call, long distance.”
“Shit, Weir, you better sign. I don’t want to end up by myself in Toronto, with no one to defend me.” He tried to smile.
“Relax. I’ll tell you Saturday, before I get my dad to call them.”
Billy looked to Stanton for support, but Stanton shook his head. “It’s his decision, Billy. He’s the one who’ll have to go to Hamilton. And it is a long way from Munro Mills.”
Billy didn’t relax, any more than he picked up on what Tony Stanton was trying to tell him. He n
agged Brian about it every day at school, trying to talk him into signing. Brian took it with his usual good nature. He knew how important it was to his friend.
On Saturday morning, Billy went over to the Weirs’ house, right after breakfast. Brian’s mother let him in. She told him Brian was up in his room. Billy scrambled up the stairs, hoping for the best. As soon as he reached the open door he knew the news was bad.
Brian was sitting on his bed, surrounded by all his hockey posters. The walls were empty except for one framed picture of last year’s midget team. “I’m going to leave that one up. Reminds me of the old days.” He managed a weak smile.
“So, you’re not going?” Billy slumped into the chair by the desk. “You knew all week, didn’t you?”
“Yep. I decided last Saturday night, at the dance.”
“At the dance?”
“Yeah, about ten-thirty, when we would have had to leave, if we were still playing hockey. Just when everyone else was starting to warm up, we would’ve had to go. Remember? It’s getting to be a drag, man. I just don’t look forward to it anymore. At least not enough to act like a monk for seven or eight months of the year.”
“Aw, shit, man; you don’t mean that. You love hockey.”
“Not like you do.” Billy started to say something, but Brian put his hand up. “Don’t make an argument out of it. You’re different from me. Something happens to you out there on the ice. You still play like you’re back on the pond, never wanting to quit.”
“Aw, jeez, Brian, we’re not that different.”
“Yes, we are. I like to play, but not all the time. And all the practices, heck, you actually like the practices. And the curfews, with no time for girls, or fun. It’s a drag, man.” He smiled. “You know, some nights when we’re ahead four nothing and the crowd is screaming, and you’re busting your butt trying to get another goal, you know what I’m thinking?”
“What?” Billy wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I’m thinking about Susan, and the dance next Saturday, and whether the old man will lend me the car.”
