Between a Jock and a Hard Place (9 page)

“Don’t ruin it for him, Zoey.”

“It would be great for his image though.”

Claire could almost hear her friend thinking.

“Speaking of image. He has a bit of a reputation for being a ladies’ man.”

“Cam told me about that.” She went on confidently. “But until I see signs to the contrary, I’m going to assume he’s on the up and up.”

“I guess that’s fair. When do you see him again?”

“Not sure, but it can’t be soon enough.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That good.” A wave of longing swept through her; she was glad she was sitting down. “I’ve never known anyone like him, Zoey.”

“Stop! You’re making me all teary-eyed. Gotta run. Talk to you later.”

* * *

The Canucks lost both games in San Jose. It was a tired and dejected group of athletes that boarded the aircraft late Friday night for the flight home.

Jack took his usual seat across from Lars Nielsen and closed his eyes but he couldn’t sleep. Not even the thought of Claire could lift him out of the fog of misery that threatened to engulf him. It was the same after every loss, but to get this far in the playoffs and lose the first two games wasn’t a good sign.

Lars leaned across the aisle. “Hey, Jack. That blogger is at it again. You should read this one, man.”

“No thanks.” But the forward’s words stayed with him and he eventually dug out his laptop and called up the blog.

He read it twice, anger oozing from every pore of his body. He may be in the middle of one of the most important playoffs of his life, but he had to respond to this idiot. He would find the time somehow, of that he was sure.

* * *

Claire grabbed the phone, noting that caller ID was blocked. Please let it be Jack. “Hello?”

“Hi.” He let out a sigh. “How are you, Claire?”

He didn’t sound like himself. “I’m fine. Are you all right, Jack? You sound different.”

“Just tired. And a bit disappointed.” He paused. “I’m not going to be able to see you for the next few days. We really have to focus.”

“I understand. I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is.” His voice dropped. “Just tell me you’ll be there when it’s all over.”

“I’ll be here,” she said.

“Good.” There was a moment’s silence. “Goodbye, Claire.”

* * *

Claire watched the game on Sunday night with Cam. Their father had somehow scored tickets to the game in the hope that Cam would go with him, but Cam wasn’t feeling up to the crowds and the noise.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.” Cam rose after the end of the second period, looking for something to eat. “Down 3-1. They’re not playing badly, it’s just that nothing’s going their way.”

The Canucks lost and Claire waited to hear from Jack, but he didn’t call. Maybe it was just as well; she didn’t know what she could have said to make him feel better.

The phone remained silent on Monday. Claire tried to work but it was difficult when every thought led her back to the man who had so quickly become the most important person in her life. Suddenly dating a hockey player didn’t seem so glamorous. She jumped at the chance to watch tomorrow night’s game with Zoey and Tony at the sports bar. At least she had something to look forward to.

* * *

The bar was more crowded than it had ever been. The air was thick with tension as Claire edged her way toward Tony and Zoey’s usual table.

“Do you know how hard it was, saving this stool for you?” Zoey kicked it out from under the table. “Sit down and hang on to it for all you’re worth.”

Claire did as she was told, aware that behind her on the big screen the game was starting. She couldn’t watch, but it wasn’t necessary. She could tell from the groans of the crowd every time the Canucks missed the net. The first period ended with no score.

“How come you’re not watching?” Zoey motioned for more drinks, then turned back to Claire. “Jack was terrific.”

“I’m so afraid he’ll get injured. I don’t think I could stand to watch that.”

“Oh, My God. I forgot to tell you. The other blog came out today. The guy really blasted you.”

“He did?”

“Big time. Randy is beside himself with excitement. At last count there were over a thousand comments.”

Claire tried to call it up on her phone, but the second period was starting and she couldn’t concentrate. “I’ll read it later,” she said, wondering just how bad it could be.

A momentary silence fell over the bar when San Jose scored a goal. The high octane energy of the crowd fizzled a bit, and then deflated even more as San Jose scored a second goal two minutes later. The rest of the period was hard fought, but neither team scored.

In the third period, Jack made a beautiful pass resulting in a goal, but at the end of the game San Jose had defeated the Canucks, ending their bid for the Stanley Cup. Claire made her way home, hoping that Jack would call but knowing that he wouldn’t. She let herself into her apartment and went to the computer. Might as well hear all the bad news at once.

The blog was prefaced by a short intro from Randy:

“Look out for the fireworks! Here’s today’s blog in response to last week’s anti-violence rant.”

She took a deep breath and started to read.

“When I was asked to present the opinion of a hockey insider on the issue of violence in professional hockey, I assumed it would be in response to accurate, reasoned arguments...not some irrational drivel plucked from the air.

First of all, let’s clear something up. Yes, I’m a guy. I like to think I’m a gentleman, but there’s a limit to my patience. As they say in hockey, the gloves are off.

The anti-blogger has trotted out the same tired old arguments that have been recycled over and over for the last decade. How about getting your facts straight, or is that too much trouble?

Hockey violence was getting out of hand, I admit that. But the previous sentence is in the past tense for a reason. Does this blogger even follow hockey? To quote him, “I don’t think so”. Anyone who follows hockey would know that the NHL has appointed a new Head of Discipline to review serious infractions.

The new appointment and the harsher penalties are working, people. Those players acting as enforcers have admitted publicly that they are now approaching the game with renewed thoughtfulness, and that each time they make a hit, they consider the results.

From an insider’s point of view, this is major, and bears repeating. The enforcers in the game are making a conscious decision to play the game in a more responsible fashion. Are they going to continue to hit, and to protect their star players? Of course, but to a man they speak of restraint.

Has the anti-blogger spoken of this? No. Why? Could it possibly be to make the anti-blog more sensational? Wait a minute...that would be like fighting to make the game more sensational, wouldn’t it?

One final thought: Anti-blogger says that the fans have been conditioned to expect fights. An insulting comment if there ever was one, and I take offense on behalf of fans everywhere. Shame on you, anti-blogger. Shame on you.

NOW, let’s hear what the readers have to say. I look forward to it.”

Claire slumped back in her office chair, stunned. She felt like she’d been thrown to the wolves. How could Randy have printed this? She read it again, her heart pounding. What had she gotten herself into? She ignored the niggling little voice in the back of her head whispering that there might be something to what the blogger was saying. No...she was in the right, and she knew it. She’d been standing up for every player who’d ever been hurt while playing the game they loved. Why should she be subjected to public humiliation for stating her opinion?

They don’t even know it’s you
said the voice. But anger overrode reason and she didn’t listen. She would face down Randy first thing in the morning and demand a retraction.

She tore off her clothes and climbed into bed wishing she could discuss it with Jack. He’d know how to handle this.

When Claire woke up the next morning she was surprised that she’d slept at all. She was usually a good sleeper, but last night had been agony. Between not hearing from Jack and the humiliation of the blog, her mind had been far too active, keeping her awake until around four in the morning.

She dragged herself into the bathroom and studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked terrible, but she hadn’t changed her mind about visiting the Phoenix offices.

With angry strides she covered the eight blocks to the newspaper, rehearsing what she would say to Randy.

She paused on the ground floor of the building and glanced toward Zoey’s office. The lights were off, indicating that her friend was out. Just as well; if she saw her, she might lose some of her determination. She ran up the stairs to the mezzanine.

Randy looked up as she appeared at the open door to his office, trying to catch her breath.

“Hello, Claire.” He looked uneasy. Good...she was about to make him even more uncomfortable.

She advanced into the office. “How could you do that to me, Randy? How could you print that blog?”

The editor pulled himself together. “You mean the one yesterday?” He seemed to be playing for time.

“Of course the one yesterday. The one by that Neanderthal!” She stopped to take in air. “I want you to print a retraction. That blog is nothing more than a call for more violence. To say that I didn’t do my research and that I insulted the fans is simply not true.”

Randy picked up a newspaper. It had been folded back to the article in question. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Claire. This is his opinion, and he’s entitled to it.” He looked over her shoulder and frowned, but she didn’t notice.

“But he’s wrong, Randy. Not only that, he’s insulting.”

“Funny.” The editor had a strange smile on his face. “He says the same thing about you.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Loving what?” The voice came from behind her. She recognized it, but couldn’t quite believe her ears. She whirled around. “Jack?”

He was leaning against the door jamb. “What are you doing here, Claire?”

She grabbed the newspaper from the desk and showed it to Jack. “This is what I’m doing here. This...” she sputtered. “This idiot thinks he can insult me by saying that I didn’t do my research.”

The colour drained from his face. “You wrote that drivel?”

“Drivel?” At the familiar word, the truth hit her and she took a step back. “You were the other blogger?” The world seemed to give way beneath her feet.

“Yes.” A muscle tensed in his jaw and she noticed that he’d shaved off his playoff stubble. “You don’t even follow hockey, Claire. With the exception of your brother, you have no connection to it. What made you think you could write a blog about the subject?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She turned back to Randy. “See what I mean? It’s all about the Old Boys network, or some such archaic notion. I’m a woman so I can’t possibly have a valid opinion. Come to think of it, that would be a waste of time because nobody will even entertain the thought of changes, even when it’s clear that the rules are too loose to carry any weight. How many more kids are going to get hurt before hockey gets serious about protecting the players?”

“Now wait just a minute.” This was a new Jack, and he was angry. He tapped a finger on his words. “Did you even read this, or is that another of your ridiculous accusations? You didn’t even bother to mention that a new position has been created. We now have someone who is policing the violence. Things don’t change overnight, Claire, but we’re working on it.”

Tears had been gathering behind her eyes and she blinked them back. “Well Jack Logan, You’ve made it clear where you stand on this subject.” She grabbed the newspaper out of his hand, tossed it on Randy’s desk and then turned back to him. “As for the supposed changes, I suggest you work on them faster.”

She whirled around to face Randy. “I won’t be blogging again. That’s what I came to tell you.” She shot a look at Jack, who had turned aside and refused to meet her eyes. “This isn’t what I signed up for.” She turned and left with as much dignity as she could muster.