Page 2 of Actions and Reactions
It’s now two weeks after that incredible win, and though it’s the off-season for the players and the coaching staff, there’s no rest for the PR and Marketing departments.
I still have to stay on top of things even if it’s from the apartment I call home. Commentators and has-beens with YouTube channels are still debating—as if there was anything to debate—whether Santa and Charlie’s relationship is a good or a bad thing.
Every time I hear someone question them I want to scream.
They won the fucking Stanley Cup.
Charlie won the Lady Byng Trophy and Santa the James Norris Trophy.
What the fuck are you talking about?
I’m a trained publicist, though, so I know better.
Players, with their emotions running wild and the adrenaline constantly pumping through their veins...theycan have outbursts like that.
I can’t.
Not anymore.
At least, not if I want to be the best damn publicist in the world.
For the first fifteen years of my life, all I dreamed of was being the next best hockey player in the world.
That ship didn’t just sail, it wrecked, it was bombed, and then it sank into the deepest pit of the ocean.
The drive to excel came back, though, a few years later, when I had to face reality and choose something to do with my life. I chose PR because I saw what an impact it had on my father’s life—in Uncle Hulk and Aunt Lyla’s life too—and bitter or not, I understood, even at seventeen, that I still wanted to have a positive impact on the world. Even if it was in the world of media.
Tonight, lonely and feeling just a little bit insecure in the face of the endless to-do list for the off-season, I know I should log out.
I should turn off the TV, close my laptop, and just go to bed to stare at my ceiling.
But since Dad asked me to tune into his show tonight—something he’s never explicitly done before—I’m not going to have a chance to do that.
Instead, I’m pretty sure I’m about to add a few more things to my list.
With a sigh, I turn up the volume of the TV and try to relax on the couch in front of it as the music intro of the show comes on.
This particular live sports show has three panelists at all times and some guests now and then. Retired head coach of the New York Demons, Carl Nilsson, retired defenseman forthe LA Empire Ruko “Hulk” Jankowski, and retired forward for the LA Empire Paul “the Dagger” Wayne, a.k.a. Dad.
I have no clue how Uncle Ruko and my dad can stand the shit Nilsson spews on the regular, but that’s not my problem and I’m not getting involved. I shudder when they show his ugly-ass face during the intro of the show, and I understand why my father asked me to tune in as soon as they begin the first topic to discuss.
“What is going on over at the Pirates?” Nilsson asks with an incredulous frown, and shakes his head. Then the picture of Santa and Charlie at the Stanley Cup final comes up on the screen. “This kind of distraction and problematic action is what happens when you have issues stemming from the top of leadership.”
“You’re right,” my father drawls with an eye roll. “When a woman is leading a team, all her players somehow find happiness and they get more wins than any other team. Oh, the horror,” he mocks, then he turns to Ruko and raises an eyebrow. “Anything you want to add, Hulk?”
“I think it’s best if I stay quiet or else I’m going to remember my old ways and slam someone against a wall.”
I can’t help but snort at the thought of it. The look he’s sending Nilsson is vicious enough to be funny to me, but to the rest of the world he probably looks scary as fuck.
“That’s probably wise, then.” Dad smiles and turns back to Nilsson, who doesn’t value his life much it seems.
“You’re just saying that because your kids work and play for that organization.” My heart stops at his words, but Dad starts talking before the panic can take over.
“We’re saying that cause it’s the truth,” he snaps. “Jules Dupont just won his sixth Hart Memorial Trophy and his fourth Stanley Cup. When has any other player in the league ever done that?” He tilts his head, clearly being a smartass. “Oh, right, not since I did it seventeen years ago, so maybe you should listen to what the players of this league actually think.
“People around the league are still voting for the men playing for that team as the best there are. Nikolay Brotnik just won the James Norris Memorial Trophy for the first time in his career, and it was only because he was taken off of the ice for more than a few games this season that everyone around the league finally realized what a master he is at his craft. Nobody cares that they’re in relationships with other men. And nobody should. Not the fans, not the front offices of other teams, not the league, and especially not a nobody journalist like you.”
I can tell the program is cut abruptly and ads start running, so something must’ve happened.
