Ice in My Veins
The game went by so fast. I was on fire. Coach always said I had “ice in my veins!”
Tonight I rocked it, getting 4 goals and 7 assists. The three best players in the league were on my team. We had undefeated. I knew if I were to play for a guy’s team, it would be difficult to get 1 or 2 points per game. I just hoped that I proved myself to Mr. Ben Killerman. I was named the tournament MVP. That should also count for something; it was the third year in a row. I was also the team captain and took my role seriously.
I was nervous as I walked out of the dressing room. I looked around, quickly scanning the arena. Then, on the far left, I saw him - Ben Killerman, hockey legend. He was talking to Coach. I made eye contact with Coach and waited for him to call me over. I walked swiftly, but confidently towards them.
“Hello, Christine.” Ben greeted. “I’m Ben Killerman, coach of the Toronto Gophers in the Ontario Hockey League.”
I reached out and took his hand with a firm hand shake. “Nice to meet you Mr. Killerman; it truly is an honor.” I acknowledged.
“I guess you know more about hockey than I thought.” He smiled surprised that I knew who he was. “Tell me Christine, why do you want to play in the OHL?” He questioned me.
“Mr. Killerman.” I started. He cut me off.
“Please, Ben is fine.” He assured me.
“Ben.” I restarted with confidence. I knew how important it was to be confident. “As long as I can remember I have loved the game of hockey. Trust me, growing up in my home sports is treated like the holy grail - mainly football. I am the odd person out; because I am a girl, and because I don’t play football.” I laughed. “I would give anything to improve my game. If I could learn from a legend such as yourself, it would be a dream come true. I have always dreamed of playing in the NHL. I know girls and the NHL don’t have the best track record, but I believe I can be the one to change that Mr. Killerman, Ben.” I respond.
He looked me over closely. I knew he was sizing me up to see if I was big enough. I knew the guys in the CHL hit hard. They would make my life a living hell. No one wanted to play with a girl.
“Well Christine.” He paused briefly. “You do seem to have the size, and your stats speak for themselves. What do you think your parents would say to you coming up to Toronto, Canada, for training camp at the end of August? We would be happy to give you a chance to try your luck with our team.” He was a little hesitant as he spoke. I knew it was a big risk he was taking just asking me to come to camp.
“I think my father won’t believe me, and my mom will be happy for me.” I laughed a nervous laugh. What would my father say? I wasn’t sure. Would he laugh or be happy for me? It was almost as though Ben sensed my reaction. He seemed like a perceptive man.
“How about I pay them a visit. Have your father give me a call at this number.” He handed me a business card and pointed to a phone number on the back of the card. “I am in town for the next two days. I could stop by your house, and we can all talk about it together. How does that sound to you Christine?”
Ben Killerman, in my house, and being allowed to go to training camp in Canada - and play for a guys major junior hockey team, would be the best thing ever! “I think that sounds great. I look forward to it. I will make sure they call you tomorrow Mr. Killerman, Ben.” I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer. “Woohooo!” I burst out.
He laughed enjoying my enthusiasm. “Alright, Christine I look forward to meeting them.” With that said, he turned and walked out of the arena.
I wasn’t ready to face my family. I needed time to compose myself. I sat down on my hockey bag with my head between my knees and just breathed. I needed to calm down - act professional in front of my parents, so they would have total confidence that I could handle the situation.
How great would this be for me! I smiled, as I tried to hold back tears of joy. They were about to leak from my eyes. Breath! Breath! I just needed to breath!
Invitations
Once I was finally in control of my emotions, I calmly walked outside. I saw my family waiting for me in our SUV. I threw my bag and sticks into the back, then climbed in beside my two brothers. Phil gave me a friendly punch in the arm.
“Congrats Sis on winning the Championships. Sorry we couldn’t be there to watch, but you know I had a big basketball game today.” That was Phil’s way of apologizing. I knew that he sometimes felt bad that no one really cared about my hockey; as much as a self-absorbed brother could care.
“No worries,” I grumbled. I turned to look out the window as the snow started to turn into rain. As if he had a big game, please! It was a basketball scrimmage between all his football friends. Half them couldn’t play basketball if their life depended on it. That still took priority over my game. The thought suddenly bothered me.
“I guess that’s it for hockey for you Chrissy. So what are you going to do now?” Tyler smirked. He was embarrassed that I was such a tomboy and played hockey. He thought it made me a lesbian. Typical small town ignorant mentality.
“Funny you should mention that Tyler.” I leaned across Phil, and punched Tyler in the jaw, not really hard but forceful enough to make him mad.
“Owww!” He yelled “You’re such a guy.” He turned to look out the window on his side of the SUV.
Our parents very seldom interfered in our petty arguments. They usually let us battle them out, and deal with them ourselves. I wasn’t surprised when there was no response from the front seats when Tyler yelled.
“Dad, do you know who Ben Killerman is?” I inquired. Of course he knew. He knew tons about sports.
“Sure honey, he played for Pittsburgh back in the 80s. He was a decent defenceman.” He looked at me curiously through the rear view mirror. “Why do you ask Christine?”
This was it. I was just going to spit it out and have them all laugh at me. I took a deep breath before explaining.
“Well, he saw my tapes dad; Pete Masen, that CHL scout”. I paused, remembering that I had kept that a secret. Dad, glanced at me through the rear view mirror confused. I continued on. “Oh, I forgot to mention that. Well Pete came to check me out back in December, and I guess he showed Ben Killerman my tapes.”
The car was silent, all eyes were focused on me. It was slightly irritating. Even dad was still glaring at me through the rear view mirror. I continued explaining. “Well tonight Ben was there at the rink to watch me. He offered me a chance to go to his team’s training camp in Toronto, Canada, for a week in August.” I recoiled into my seat and waited for the laughter.
There was none. Instead there were four wide open jaws in shock. A few minutes past before any one spoke.
“What! Ben Killerman? Are you sure Christine?” My father was still in shock. I knew he wouldn’t believe me.
I handed my father his card, and he almost drove off the road. “He is only in town for two days dad. He wants you, Mom and me to sit down and discuss it. He told me to have you call that number on the back of the card, that’s where he’s staying.”
The next ten minutes of the ride home was in complete silence. Everyone was in shock. I wasn’t about to say anything else. I just wanted it to sink in with all of them. I needed them to know that I was good enough.
The next morning dad called Ben. He invited him over for dinner. He instructed my brothers to be on their best behavior; as it would be a good experience for them if they wanted to play sports professionally. My father wasn’t to enthusiastic about the invitation I got for the camp. He told me there was no way I would fair well against the boys. Not to get my hopes up. He thought that Ben was giving me false hope. He was just excited to meet a legend like Ben.
My father greeted Ben at the door, and invited him into the living room for a drink before dinner. I wanted to let them talk. I decided to help mom make sure everything was ready in the dining room, mainly, because I would be close enough to eavesdrop from there.
“It’s a pleasure to meet a legend like yourself Ben.” Dad said politely.
>
“Thank you Ralph,” Ben smiled.
After that, there was a lot of small talk about sports and about Ben’s NHL career. Dad of course brought it up several times; and I expected to hear it more throughout the evening; that he once played for Michigan. Then their conversation turned to me. I listened closer from behind the kitchen door. I could hear better from that angle.
“Now, about Christine.” Ben started explaining to my father. “I think she has tremendous talent. I believe that if she came up for training camp, that she might be a good fit for my team. I am looking for a winger with her speed.” Ben proposed.
“Christine is a center though Ben,” dad pointed out, as if he thought Ben had made a mistake.
“Oh, I am aware of that. I think I have two players that I can place her with on the third line that would help her transition.”
He took a sip of his scotch. “I know major junior is a rough league. However, I feel that your daughter has the size and the determination to handle that. I have watched many of her tapes, and spoken to her coach. I am confident that she is more than capable. I get the feeling that she can handle the pressure. She seems like a real go-getter. I need speed on my team, and she is fast.” He assured my father, who was listening, in shock, to what Ben was telling him.
“I have to wonder if that would be a good idea Ben. She is a girl,” my father warned. “Now I played football for Michigan State. I remember the locker room well. It’s not the most appropriate place for a girl,” my father added. He starred at the scotch in his hand, then smiled pleased with himself; like he was momentarily back in college.
How many more times could he mention he played ball. I rolled my eyes. Ben probably wanted to do the same. That thought made me giggle.
“I understand your worry Ralph. We would be very careful how we handled it. I have already spoken to a few of the players who I know will be returning to the team this season. We discussed it long and in depth. I believe my players will make her feel like part of the team. I assure you that she will be respected. We want to make a run for the cup. All my players care about is whether a player pulls their weight out on the ice for the full sixty minutes.” He said reassuringly.
“Well I suppose we could send her to the camp for a week, that couldn’t hurt.” My father said after pondering for a few minutes.
I almost ran into the living room screaming but composed myself. I did a little cheer dance in the kitchen. My mother glared at me like I was some sort of alien. My parents weren’t used to seeing me so happy. I went through the motions of being happy, but they knew I wasn’t happy in Dryden. The only time I truly felt happy was out on the ice. Since they were never at my games, I could see how this would seem weird to her.
Finally it was time for dinner. My mom always put on a good spread. Tonight she made turkey with all the fixings. We were all sitting around the dinning room table discussing my going up to Toronto. Dad had decided that he was going to come with me. This would be a first. I wondered if maybe now he would realize, how good I really was. I don’t think he understood how much I wanted this. Watching me at camp, working my butt off might give him a new understanding; maybe even bridge that huge gap between us. I hoped that would be the case.
During dinner, we discussed what would happen; if by chance, I did make the cut. We discussed how I would be living with a family who billets players for the team. Ben explained about me making a weekly allowance, but it would only be around $60.00. He also explained how the paid education scholarships worked. For every year a player plays in the CHL, they get one year of university paid for. That put a smile on my parents face and shock across my two brother’s.
After dinner Ben had to rush out because of a prior engagement. I thanked him for the offer, and for coming to dinner. He told me he looked forward to seeing me at camp. He mentioned that he would be sending me all the necessary documents and information I needed soon.
My father and mother argued long into the night. I could hear them from my bedroom three rooms down. Mom didn’t want me to go at all. Dad had reservations, but thought they should at least give me a chance.
I heard him tell my mother, “this way she can see that she isn’t cut out for hockey.” He figured I would bow out after the first two days at camp. He didn’t want me to blame them for the rest of my life, if they didn’t let me go.
I prayed that night for my parents to let me go. I know you’re not suppose to pray for things like that. You’re suppose to just thank God for looking out for you, but I really wanted this bad.
Heading North
The flight to Toronto from Detroit, Michigan, was short. Although to me, it felt like the longest trip of my life. I was from Dryden, Michigan. A small town with just over 800 people. To me, just the flight itself was a big deal. I had never been out of the United States before. Toronto was so clean and friendly. I expected for such a big city - for it to maybe be, like Detroit or New York.
We checked into the hotel near the arena. I decided that I wanted to go out and look around. My father had some work stuff to take care of, which he had brought with him. He told me not to go far. I wanted to check out the rink. I was sure that I probably wouldn’t be able to get in, but I felt the need to go there anyway.
Today I was just wearing a pair of old worn out jeans and my old time hockey t-shirt. It was one of my favorites. It was really hot and humid. My hair was just hanging limp, uncomfortably sticking to the sides of my face. I wished that I had put it up before I left the hotel. I felt like maybe I should have thrown on a pair of shorts, however; I didn’t want to go back to the hotel to change. I just wanted to see the arena. I twisted my hair through itself into a makeshift bun, so it wouldn’t stick to my face.
I was pleasantly surprised when I got to the arena to find the door was unlocked. There was no one around. I took a chance and walked in through the doors to take a quick peak. I saw where all the food concession stands were and the souvenir shop. I walked through one of the entrances to the inside of the rink.
It was huge! It must be able to hold about 8000 people in here. I could see that the Zamboni had just gotten off the ice, because it was fresh. I walked up the stairs to the nosebleed section and sat down. I wanted to get a feel for the rink. I sat there in awe just taking it all in.
It would be awesome to play in this barn. I bet it gets pretty loud in here on game nights. Canada is suppose to love their hockey, and have the ultimate, craziest fans. I started to daydream about being out there on the ice, scoring a goal and the fans going crazy. I was in my own little world. I could hear the roar of the crowd, listening to my name being chanted.
My daydreams were interrupted when, all of a sudden, I felt someone touch my shoulder. I jumped. It was a security guard, who didn’t look happy that I was in the arena. He glared at me with disapproving eyes.
“Miss, what are you doing in here?” He snapped.
I looked up at him “I am sorry, the front door was unlocked. I just wanted to come in and smell the ice. I just felt the need to get a feel for the rink.” I explained. I don’t think he was listening to me.
“Excuse me Miss, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.” He started to escort me out. “You crazy girls, always sneaking in here to meet the players.” He shook his head with disappointment from side to side. I was confused by his reaction to me. He must have thought I was some crazy fan or something.
We walked down a few levels when I noticed there was a guy who looked about eighteen or nineteen; and very good looking. He was just leaning against the glass all cocky like, almost as if he owned the rink or something. He stopped the security guard.
“Come on George, let her be. I will take responsibility for her.” He coaxed the security guard. Then he winked at me.
“Fine by me Alex. I will leave her in your hands.” George said to him, and he walked away. Maybe he worked here?
“Umm, thanks, I guess.” I didn’t really know what to say to him.
He was so
cute. I felt my heart burst into a sprint. I didn’t want to look up at him, but I also didn’t want to look away, and look like an idiot. I glanced up slowly and looked at him, straight into those deep green eyes.“I’m Chrissy.”
“Hi Chrissy, I am Alex.” He smiled this adorable crooked smile. “Are you a hockey fan?”
“I guess you could say that.” I blushed and giggled. He thought I was a fan. How cute. “Do you work here?” I inquired.
He snickered at my question. “I guess you could say that.”
God, he was so good looking!
It wasn’t like me to pay attention to guys at all. I didn’t know where these feelings were coming from. I had never been on a date, or been kissed, or anything. Standing next to this guy, my stomach started to flutter, butterflies? I never had this feeling in the pit of my tummy before.
He motioned for me to sit down beside him, and I gladly accepted. As I sat down, I inhaled really big then exhaled. He looked at me with his head cocked to the side, wondering I suppose, at what I was doing.
“So are you from around here Chrissy?” He asked me, grinning. He oozed confidence. I liked that.
He had such a cute smile, and bright perfect white teeth. His lips were full. He was tall, built, with sandy brown hair and amazing green eyes. I had never seen eyes so green, and they seemed to penetrate deep into my heart when I looked into them. He was more than extremely attractive.
“Umm, no I am from Michigan. It’s my first time visiting Canada.” I was still taking in the size of the rink, my eyes scanning the stands trying not to focus on how good looking this boy was. I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it. I was sure of that. He looked at me strangely. He probably thought I was creepy or something, not being able to make proper eye contact with him at all.