Page 81 of In The Game

“It wasn’t just me, there’s a ton of people who are dedicated to the camp. You’re a part of this too, Ral. Do you want to help me hand out sticks?”

“Really?”

“Of course. Come on.” He holds his hand out for me, and I take it.

We weave through some volunteers and families over to a huge cart organizing sticks by flex and size. There are four carts in a row, each has two volunteers to hand them out to the different youth groups: mites on one side of us and peewees on the other. Barrett hands me a large box of hockey tapes.

“We’ve got the squirts.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Wow, that came out weird.”

I chuckle. “I knew what you meant.”

One family at a time lines up and we take a paper with their stick flex and player height. I repeat the information to Barrett, then he grabs the junior-sized stick that matches. A couple times, he recommends a longer or shorter stick for the player. When he’s done, I hand them a couple rolls of tape, and we move to the next child. Seeing the appreciation, happiness, and hopefulness for these families is so rewarding.

“Hi!” I say to the next child in line, a dark-haired boy bouncing with excitement. He says hi, with his eyes focused on Barrett as he hands me the paper.

I turn to Barrett and tell him the flex and height. “Forty-five. Fifty-five inches.”

While he grabs the stick, I make small talk with the players. “What position do you play?”

“Right forward,” he says, in unison with Barrett.

Barrett turns around and hands him a stick. “Farrell! I heard you moved up to AA! That’s awesome, man.” He holds out his hand for a fist bump. The boy taps it with his. There’s not one kid who’s come through here that Barrett doesn’t know.How the hell does he do it?

I hand him his hockey tapes. “Have a great season!”

“Thanks!” He’s all smiles. The mother presses her hand to her chest and mouths athank youto Barrett as well, and he nods with a smile. Then Farrell and his mother head toward the table passing out jerseys.

“Thank you for including me in this,” I say before helping the next player in line.

“Nobody else I’d rather share it with.”

I smile at the new kid in line and take his paper, turning to Barrett again. “Forty-five. Anytime. This is awesome, Barrett.”

When we’re all done with sticks, I help return some carts and float around with some volunteers, assisting wherever I can. Barrett and I get separated at some point, but it’s easy to get carried away helping. I’m sorting through some of the registration papers, pulling out the list of kids who didn’t make it, highlighting addresses on the papers so we can have their equipment delivered.

“I was wondering where you went.” The deep voice makes me smile.

“Sorry, I wanted to make myself useful. I’m almost done.” Leafing through the remaining papers, there are no other absences. When I look up, he’s got a big smile on his face.

He furrows his brow. “What are you and Arthur doing tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve got plans tonight with Micky. She invited me out for drinks. Birdie’s going too, she said she’d be our designated driver.”

His smile grows. “Oh, yeah? A little WAGs night?”

I roll my eyes. “Agirls’night.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Who’s watching Arthur?” It’s bizarre to have another person keeping tabs on my son.

“Babysitter. Don’t worry, I’ve background checked her. Her name is Tabitha. She’s a college student going to school for elementary education. She’s great.”

He looks at his feet. “If you ever need a babysitter, you know… I could—”

“I know.”

He nods. His face falls and the hurt expression makes me wince.

“He would love spending the extra time with you. I got this babysitter before our talk, but going forward, your name is on the babysitter roster. I’m sorry, I’m just protective.”

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