Hockey Story

Frank Westcott

...for my daughter, Michelle

Ricky Franks yanked hard on the laces. He wrapped them twice around his ankle just below the bulge made by the foam rubber stuffed behind his shin pad. His gloves were ribbed and torn from use and lay between his feet where his stick's butt end touched the new black rubber floor mat. The Arena Committee installed the mat to protect the boys' skate blades from getting nicks and scrapes on the concrete underneath.

"Wayne Grange, six feet, over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, the school's heavyweight wrestling champion, nervously tapped his red helmet lying in his opened equipment bag. Across the dressing room, the team captain, allstar defenceman Eddy Fraser, was discussing something with the coach. They both nodded and then Eddy banged his stick on the floor. The quick slap of hard wood taped only on the blade tip got the players' attention. All eyes looked up. The room was silent. Eddy spoke.

"Four weeks ago we played Queensway and lost. We have only one excuse. Fear. They're big. We let them push us around. Nobody fought back. Nobody checked. We gave them the whole rink. No action in the corners. They owned the boards. And on that last goal where were the wingers? I'll tell you where. They were sitting on their cans out by the blue line, watching. Grange, you're the biggest guy on this team and you were on your butt all night. Smitty, what about you. What do you weigh? One eighty-five, easy. Erickson, one ninety. Cliff, one seventy-nine. All of you can take care of yourselves. Tonight we've gotta give it to `em. Nothing dirty. Just stand up to them. They were laughing at us last time. Coach Walters agrees, and anybody not pushing their load is gonna be benched even if we've only got me and Gumper and Digger on the ice. We took this team to the Etobicoke finals last year. Everybody here's got what it takes to put us there again. Now let's do it."

As different players shouted, "Go get em!", "Give it to em!", "You got it, Eddy!", Ricky Franks angrily wrapped the laces around his skate a second time and pulled hard cutting off the circulation. Red began to show on his cheeks and his arms ached from tugging. One hundred thirty pounds of guts and determination. He had speed and a shot but no weight. Opposing players sent him flying if he made one slip cutting, faking, and darting past. That was his game. Speed.

The players took to the ice. Gump did stretching exercises in the corner beneath the Alderwood Collegiate banner before gliding into the net for the warmup. Wayne Grange skated past and rapped Gump hard on the legs. Grange's stick made a dull thud as it bounced off the heavy leather pads. Big, strong Eddy circled the net and dumped a bucket of pucks on the ice. Players swooped in deftly cradling a hard, black disk in the crook of their sticks, then skated in patterns to the blue line and back. Four defencemen peppered Gump with low shots letting him feel the puck before the forwards rushed in threesomes, making plays and finally driving a hard shot at Gumper. On the bench, Coach Walters and trainer Bernie Alberts went over the game plan. The centre would forecheck, allowing them to keep the two wingers back to cut off the breakout pattern Queensway employed last time. With the wingers back, the defence could stand up at the blue line cutting off the Queensway's play before it spread into Alderwood's zone. Coach Walters whistled, "Ricky....."

Rick Franks flipped the puck sweeping back-and-forth on his stick over Eddie's outstretched arm to Wayne Grange cutting for the net. Cliff darted from the right wing screening Gumper. Wayne easily slipped the puck beneath Gump's sprawling legs.

Rick skated over to the bench. "Your line starts. Take a breather," Mr. Walters said.

Ricky slid to the ice so his back rested against the boards. He saw the two referees in their black and white striped jerseys with the red and white O.M.H.A crests on the left below the shoulder. A loose puck skidded out to centre and a Queensway player skated lazily out to retrieve it. It was Tom DeMaris. He raised his stick to his shoulders and then pushed it out making an imaginary cross-check. "Look out, chicken legs. We're gonna kill you.... shrimp. No goals tonight."

Rick's anger came back. He was too small. His head barely reached Wayne's or Eddie's shoulder pads.

The referees waved the players to centre ice. Alderwood was the home team. They would have the last change on all whistles. Eddie and Wayne slapped Rick on the back. The referee crouched over the solid red centre circle and dropped the puck. Rick went for it. Too late. The Queensway player had already scooped it back to his defence. As Rick bent to stride, an elbow smashed into his chin, dropping him to the ice. He heard Tom DeMaris' skates cutting deep into the ice as the Queensway defenceman sped past.

His anger returned. He wasn't big enough. Seconds later, he saw Eddie pumelling DeMaris just inside the blue line. Both players were sent off for five minutes. Coach Walters signaled a line change. Rick got up and skated to the bench. He felt Wayne Grange's heavy thigh leaning against him as they sunk to the skate pitted wooden plank behind the boards. "What's the matter, Rick?"

"I can't do it Wayne."

Wayne grinned and spoke through his rubber mouthpiece. "No sweat. DeMaris got lucky. Just play your game, kid. You're not alone."

Rick bent to clean the ice build-up from his skates. He crushed the hard snow in his fist and let the cold liquid melting in his palms drip onto his open neck. It cooled him. He felt the water trickle down inside his sweater underneath his pads to his bare stomach. He would quit.

He couldn't overpower those guys. They bounced him around like a loose ping-pong ball with skates on. If he couldn't help the team like Eddie said, he didn't belong.

There was another whistle. Eddie and DeMaris left the penalty box and skated to their positions. Rick saw Eddie, the big white 'C' standing out on his sweater against the royal blue background, talking to Queensway's DeMaris. DeMaris laughed and gave Eddie a shove. The referee dove between them. Coach Walters called Eddie to the bench. Eddie clumped through the gate. He nodded to Wayne. Then Coach Walters tapped Rick on the back, "Okay Rick. Your line. Go get `em."

Andy Sanderson lined up against Rick for the faceoff. DeMaris was off. Kenny Dumas skated to DeMaris' usual defence position and shouted, "Keep your head up squirt. Sanderson'll cut your face."

Reflexes alone got Rick the draw. He pulled it back between his skates spun, and deked left, missing Sanderson's check. He moved the puck to Wayne who was cutting through the middle. Rick swerved left taking up Wayne's side, sped over the blue line and shifted around Dumas. Cliff, crisscrossing behind Wayne, took a drop pass and shot low towards the Queensway goal. The rebound skidded to Rick swerving in from Wayne's left side. He drew the puck back, lifted his head and saw the goalie holding the post and blocking the short side. Sanderson was shoving Wayne through the crease on the open corner. Rick took a blind shot along the ice. Players fell. The puck popped out to the side and got tied up in the netting behind the post. As Rick turned to go to the faceoff circle, a butt end from a passing Queensway player dropped him. The wood cut into his stomach tearing skin. Rick got to his feet. "No hat trick tonight, shrimp." Dumas taunted.

"We'll see," Rick mumbled to himself. He wouldn't back down. Not yet.

The puck dropped. Rick poked it through Sanderson's legs, cut past Sanderson's flailing stick, and moved in on Dumas. He faked left dipping his head and left arm as if to shoot, pulled up quick, shifting to his back hand, and let the shot fly high to the right corner. It rang off the crossbar sailing straight out to Cliff. Rick shifted to the open side, took Cliff's pass on his skate, and lifted another high shot to the right corner. Rick never saw it go in. Peter Dumas, raging in from the blueline where he had fallen trying to catch Ricky on the first swoop, blindsided Rick , sending his one hundred thirty pounds into the air. Rick saw the ice below him, his arms reaching out

straight like he was doing a racing dive and his legs pointing back. In that second, suspended high over the ice waiting to crash down, he saw Wayne Grange plough into Dumas, reefing the two hundred pound defenceman into the boards. As Dumas collapsed in a heap, Eddie flew over the boards. Coach Walters uselessly tried to restrain the captain. When he got to Rick, Eddie reached down and helped him to his feet. "You okay, Digger?" Rick saw the concern in the captain's face.

Wayne sent a shower of ice over Rick's legs as he stopped beside them. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Way to go, Ricky. I told everyone of those guys if they so much as come near you below the belt or after the play they're gonna have to deal with me. Nobody on this team can score like you. Play your game kid."

Rick skated to the bench. There was a warm feeling inside. They were protecting him. That's what Eddie was talking about before the game. They were protecting him because they really needed him. He turned to Eddie who was holding the gate open for him. "Thanks....."

"Forget it. You can do what nobody else can do. You're our franchise. Sock it to `em, Digger."

The bench felt good under Rick. The ice water off his skates squirted down his neck the way he liked and ran right over the welt on his stomach made by Sanderson's butt end.

He no longer felt the pain.

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