Page 57 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

Kaitlyn drops her head back and closes her eyes. “I can’t wait to get rid of these bags under my eyes.” She straightens and begins to remove her jacket. “And poor Banks. He kept insisting on getting up with me to feed Mei in the middle of the night. I finally had to put my foot down when he fell asleep in his truck in the parking lot and missed practice. He’s got three years left on his contract, and we’re not risking the wrath of Coach Marsh. My man is staying on the first line until the day he hangs those skates up.”

I bite back another laugh. “I think my low point was pouring orange juice into my coffee instead of milk and then being too tired to pour myself a fresh cup. Ten out of ten do not recommend.”

“Oh, I don’t mess around when it comes to my coffee,” Kaitlyn responds with a tone usually reserved for the most serious of offenses. Coffee means business. Noted.

The lights suddenly drop in the arena, and all eyes go to the ice. “Here they come!” Matty announces as spotlights begin dancing on the ice and cheers go up from the crowd. Both teams enter the rink to the tune of an old Aerosmith song and file to their respective benches. The excitement of the crowd is palpable, and I’m literally on the edge of my seat already.

When Banks’s name is announced for the starting line-up, Kaitlyn lets out a deafening whistle and I clap extra loudly. Mei sleeps through it all like a champ.

From what Bobby has told me, he plays on the second line of four, and they’ll all switch out every few minutes throughout the game.

When Banks skates up to the circle in the middle and the puck drops, the crowd goes crazy. I dig in my purse for my glasses I hardly ever wear, but it’s almost impossible to followthe puck without them. It zooms from stick to stick in what looks like a choreographed dance between players.

Matty and Kaitlyn both cheer and boo in sync when various things happen. My knowledge of hockey is pretty limited, so I stay mostly quiet, waiting for someone to score a goal that I can cheer or boo.

A few minutes in, one of the opposing players from Detroit takes his stick and blatantly jams it into Storm Chaser number 23’s stomach, causing the guy to double over and fall to the ice. The crowd gasps and boos as play continues, and I turn to Matty.

“They’re allowed to just do that?”

He shrugs, so I turn to Kaitlyn whose eyes never stray from the ice as she answers, “Dan-O will be fine. Refs missed it, but Visick will pay for it. You’ll see.” She gestures to the bad guy.

“That sounds ominous.”

The player she referred to as Dan-O gets to his feet, still holding his stomach, and skates to the bench, a teammate replacing him as he throws his leg over the barrier. Play continues for another couple minutes when all the players switch out with teammates from the bench and a familiar jersey catches my eye.

Number 62. Rhodes. My pulse immediately races.

“There’s your guy,” Kaitlyn says.

Instinctively, I open my mouth to protest, but then I snap it shut again. Because Bobbyismy guy. My lips spread in a smile I’m sure is goofy as hell and I train my eyes on my man again.

By the middle of the second period, the Storm Chasers are up two to zero with Dan-O, who I learned is team captain Danny Bright, having scored one and Banks having scored the second–something that had Kaitlyn out of her seat and bellowing like one of those beer-bellied fans you see on TV. I’m starting to pick up on the game a little better and manage not to wince whenthe puck goes racing a hundred miles an hour toward our goalie Drugov’s face.

But I’m still completely unprepared for what happens next.

Bobby comes off the bench and switches out with Banks, but the rest of our players stay on the ice. Kaitlyn lets out what I can only describe as a cackle, but my attention stays on Bobby as he skates directly for one of the Detroit players and abruptly slams him into the side of the rink. In a flash, both Bobby and this opposing player have their helmets and gloves off and are in a literal fist fight–right there on the ice!

The crowd goes batshit crazy, half the crowd chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and the other half booing. When I catch sight of the Detroit player’s jersey, I realize it’s that Visick guy who jabbed Dan-O with his stick earlier.

“Is that...blood?!” I ask no one in particular, my voice high-pitched.

“Yeah!” Matty yells with obvious relish. Good god, has he developed bloodlust or something?

“I think so,” Kaitlyn responds, casual as can be.

The referees allow the fight to continue for almost a minute, for some reason, before they intervene and pull the two players apart. Bobby turns back toward the bench, his hands raised in victory. The players on the bench let out a chorus of “Roadie! Roadie!” as Bobby and the other guy each go to their respective penalty boxes and the game starts up again like nothing happened.

Kaitlyn is still clapping and does a double take when she glances my way and notices my look of horror. For some crazy reason, it makes her laugh and grab my arm.

“First game, huh?”

I nod dumbly.

“Didn’t Bobby tell you he’s the enforcer?”

“Um, I think he mentioned it, but I just thought it was another nickname like all the guys have.”

I look over to Matty again to see him keenly focused on the game. Am I the only one who thought that was nuts? I mean, sure, I saw Bobby roughhousing with Richie last night, but that’s what brothers do, right? And nobody got punched in the face. But Bobby literally picked a fight with this other player out there in front of all these people–while doing his job! I’m really not sure how I feel about that kind of violence—especially when my kid is starting to see Bobby as a role model. Dammit!

---