Page 28 of My Wife
Predictably, the fans go wild and then get just as upset when the Storm snag another goal on Robo at the top of the third. They chant “Beast” and wear Beast costume accessories like wigs and horns and head masks or face paint along with their Knights jerseys.
I wish they wouldn’t.
Time to turn up the volume. Jack takes charge, not letting the puck out of his sight until Mikey is open for an assist.
Ramirez from the Storm tries to block me from getting into position, but I’m unstoppable and pull away to keep the opposition’s forwards from pickpocketing.
We get another goal, taking the lead once more until the clock runs out, the buzzer sounds, and the Knights win the day.
As we take a victory lap, I notice on the jumbo screens overhead, the words “#1 Fan Dolly the Knights” scroll by.
The witch bride’s comment from this morning comes to mind, but it must be a coincidence. Then again, I did run into her in the hallway earlier. Hopefully, the saying that things happen in threes isn’t true, because I definitely don’t want a triple play with that crazy woman.
I’m peopled out.
For years, I longed to be captain and promised myself if I ever got the role, I’d continue to be the first to arrive and the last to leave. However, I have to dash to deal with Mrs. Kirby and then with the kid.
Pierre whacks me with a towel. “Where are you in a rush to? Hot date?” He’s also one of our defensemen and Badaszek’s son-in-law. How the guy dubbed The Frenchman—and not because he’s from the country—managed to date, no less marry the coach’s daughter, and make it out alive is something we’re all still trying to figure out.
Hayden wolf whistles. “Liam, on a date? That’ll be the day.”
I toss them a dirty look and shake my head. The game has gone way late. Mrs. Kirby is going to sic her mini Maltese on me.
Most people work forty-hour weeks, but this gig is all day and well into the night. On the flip side, we get offseason downtime. Unless you’re me. I train year-round.
“Nice blocking, Cap,” says Redd, right winger and former captain.
I cock my head and say, “Listen, I didn’t ask for this.”
He claps a meaty hand on my back. “No, but you’re the best man for the job. I was glad to pass the torch. Family life is keeping me loaded with commitments. A guy only has so much bandwidth.”
Nerves ball up in my stomach. “You don’t say.”
“Just wait. Someday you’ll have a family and understand. Enjoy being single now. But the fun really starts when you meet someone special, settle down, and start creating a team of your own.” He winks.
I vaguely recall him not having a kid one day and then being a dad the next. Er, maybe stepdad? Could be that he got custody of his sister. I know these guys nearly as well as I know my own brother. Or I thought I did. Maybe not.
“Happens every time. You sign with the Knights, you’re also committing to marriage,” Pierre adds.
Bouchelle says, “I’m the new guy, but Badaszek has a knack for playing matchmaker.”
“I what?” comes a loud, booming voice from the hall.
We all shuffle around as if we’re teens caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
Commencing the debrief, Coach says, “The Carolina Storm have had an inconsistent few months.”
“Could be because we poached their MVP,” quips Grady, another defenseman.
I have no doubt Badaszek heard him but he ignores the comment. “Sometimes they come in and crush it and others it’s a gimme game without much effort on our part. Tonight, they were firing on all cylinders?—”
My thoughts drift to how I am not and that largely has to do with my living situation. The kid was the happiest I’d seen him after we ran into the wedding witch at the bakery. But as the day wore on, he fell into sullen silence, not that he ever makes much more than a peep—seems Pam ascribed to a “Children should be seen and not heard” policy. Not going to lie, I love to hear my nieces and nephews laughing.
The coach praises our stick handling and formation when running offense. He makes a few suggestions for improvements to limit opportunities for the opposition to score. Possibly for the first time in my career, I’m not focused. I glean that at the next few practices, we’ll be drilling back-checking, interceptions, and interrupting plays.
“Oh, and Captain,” he calls.
I surface from my thoughts and ask, “Yeah? I mean, yes, sir?”
