3. SUBJECT: HOCKEY

to: weston.maguire@baderu.com

from: cassandra.belford@baderu.com

subject: Hockey

sent: January 26, 2017 at 8:54pm

Weston,

Thank you for your email. Can you tell me about why you play hockey?

Best,

Cassie

. . .

to: cassandra.belford@baderu.com

from: weston.maguire@baderu.com

subject: Re:Hockey

sent: January 28, 2017 at 5:13am

Cassie,

Really, that's it?

That's all I get after I wrote you like, 100 pages? I really thought that I'd get a bigger response. Maybe not 100 pages back, but at least an 'atta boy' or something. Maybe you could tell me about your day.

I get it, I guess. It's a job.

Alright, as per your request, here is my response to the hockey question: I play hockey because I'm good at it, and because I like it.

It's really that simple.

For some people, the game is life itself. Not being able to play would be like holding your breath, or starving. To be honest, and you did request that I be honest, it's never been like that for me.

Let me explain. I started playing when I was five years old because I'm from a small town just east of Kingston called Caledon, and hockey is just part of growing up there. My friends and I learned how to skate together before we learned how to swim. Then, like a year later, they put sticks in our hands and pucks at our feet... and for me it just made sense.

The game itself isn't very complicated: the team has a goal (get the puck into that net, keep the puck out of this net) and I help them do it. I play defense. I've played all over the ice, but defense is where I'm best.

I'm also a lot faster on the ice. When I was eight, my coach said he was surprised I never flew off the ice like a plane taking off.

I played a few team sports growing up. I swam, ran track, and played soccer and football, but hockey was the one that stuck for me.

When I did other stuff, like football for example, I was only slightly better than average. And that's on a account of genetics rather than talent. I didn't take to any sport as naturally as I took to hockey.

In hockey I was a fish in water. But in other sports I was more like a frog---passable.

A lot of the guys on Bader's hockey team are only passable, though there are a few exceptions. One of them is my buddy, Peter.

Pete is one of those "hockey is breathing" people that I mentioned. To him, hockey is everything. He got suspended from playing this year because his grades weren't good enough, and I really thought it might kill him.

We've been friends since we were kids, and we've grown up playing hockey together. We went through the leagues in Caledon, both joined Bader's team in freshman year, and we both took to defense. He's a hell of a defenseman, but Pete and I are good for very different reasons. I worked hard, sure, because everyone has to work at it. But about 75% of my talent is just one more thing I can't explain. It always felt easy, the way my sister is with music. But not Peter. Pete is one of those people who works his ass off to be on the ice. He trains hard, he books private practice slots, and he re-watches game tapes weeks after the rest of us have moved on from a loss.

Despite all that, I've always gotten more ice time than him.

Not that he'd ever complain. Pete plays for love, not glory; he loves hockey more than anything else.

Well, maybe not anything. He loved his girlfriend Aisha.

She broke up with him a little while ago. And then about a week after the breakup, our coach told Peter that he wouldn't get ice time until his grades got better. Peter's had it rough. Now that the season is practically over, he probably won't get to play at Bader again. It fucking sucks.

He's beside me now actually, watching a Rangers' game. Peter loves the Rangers, even though they've never done anything to deserve it. I just asked him why he plays hockey, thinking he might give me some ideas about what else to write, and he's sitting there looking at me like I grew another head.

"Are you shitting me?" he asked.

"No, I'm not shitting you. I'm asking you why you like it."

He took a drink from his can of Diet Pepsi and kept staring at me. I've told him, like a thousand times, that he shouldn't drink diet soda.

"I play because it makes me feel good. I don't know. Whatever, if that's a stupid answer. It's a stupid question."

I ignored that. "Really?"

"I mean, yeah. There's nothing like playing. I get on the ice and I stop thinking so much. It's fun. Isn't that why you play?" he asked.

I thought about it. "I don't know. I love the game, but I can't say it's my total and fulfilling joy," I said, emphasizing the last four words.

Total and fulfilling joy is a term that my mom uses to describe me and my sister. Sometimes Peter, too. Especially after a second glass of wine. It's one of the many ways she says that she loves us. She's always been affectionate, and after my parents split up my mom got more intense about emotions.

She's also into new age shit and alternative healing, always lighting candles and burning sage. Our walls at home have actual burn marks from the times she left her candles burning for too long.

She isn't crazy about my sport of choice, you know, because of the violence. But she's never tried to stop me from playing.

She tells me things like "Wes, honey, if this is your total and fulling joy, then I'll sit in the stands with my long underwear and watch you score over and over again." And yeah, I play defense... but I can appreciate the effort. She's a good mom. A little goofy sometimes, but in a nice way.

Peter rolled his eyes. I didn't give him a hard time though because I knew he was feeling antsy enough, and I didn't want to put him in a bad place.

We're going to Lena's birthday party tonight---Lena is my friend whose mom makes orgasmic perogies.

Her girlfriend is making us all help out. I'm in charge of bringing cups, and Peter is in charge of keeping his shit together.

It's the first time he's seeing his ex since they broke up, I think. Aisha and Lena are good friends, and there doesn't seem to be too much bad blood between anyone. Peter and Aisha are both good people, and they'd been friends before the relationship.

I've asked what made them break up before, but he told me that there wasn't anything to tell. He hasn't brought it up since, and I don't want to be too pushy. It can't be easy for him.

Anyway, it's almost time for us to head to Lena's so I'm going to go shower and put on a shirt with a collar. I'll keep writing later.

It's later now. I put a space, so you'd know there's been a time gap. I'm writing this on my phone in the middle of Lena's party. There are a lot people here, but I've already talked to most of them. I'm writing because I had something I wanted to say, and I wanted to write it down before it got lost in the beer.

When I was eleven years old I played a hockey game. The game itself wasn't anything important or special for me. I played well, but that was normal (I'm not bragging, I've just always been pretty good) and afterwards, the coach asked me about my goals. I don't think I said anything because I thought I might be in trouble.

Coach Bateman, who was a retired college coach, said that I had talent and I could probably play on a more advanced team. Maybe eventually I could play in the NHL if I worked hard enough. I wasn't sure that that's what I actually wanted, but I nodded my head, feeling a little bit proud and special. I went home and told my dad what the coach said, and he got pretty excited.

My dad grew up in Minnesota, and he played hockey with his friends in an outdoor rink, but never in a league. His family had a lot of kids and they didn't have that kind of money.

Don't get the wrong idea---I haven't been playing hockey for the better half of my life because I think it makes my dad happy. That isn't the case. I play because it's something to do that might actually get me somewhere. Even as a kid, people watched me play and they saw potential for something great. Maybe I don't love the game like Peter or my dad, but it might be the thing that makes me someone. I have a feeling you'll get what I mean, with your book and all. Then again, maybe you're invested in writing the way that Peter is invested in hockey.

Speaking of Peter, I can see him trying not to look at Aisha, and Aisha trying not to look at him. She's walking over to me actually.

I'm home now and it's 4am, but I have an update on Aisha and Peter.

Aisha saw me staring at her and came to stand beside me as I saved this email to my drafts and put my phone away. She smiled with the left side of her mouth and stared down at her drink. "Are you mad at me?" she asked.

"Nah."

Aisha is harmless. She's tall and skinny with wild curly hair that makes everything about her seem smaller.

"I'm sorry about you and Pete." I knew it was selfish to bring up the relationship, but I was confused, and Peter wasn't giving me any answers.

Her smile turned sad. "Yeah. It's been tough. I miss him."

I couldn't stop the question from coming out. "Then why?"

"How much has he told you?"

"Nothing. Only that you ended it, but that it was on okay terms."

She nodded. "That's true. It was really amicable. No tears, no arguments."

"But why?" I repeated. "Why did you guys end things?"

"It's tough to explain. And it really isn't my place. He can tell you, but I wouldn't feel right talking about it."

I nodded. I didn't agree, but I knew she wasn't going to budge. Aisha was sincere and even if she and Peter aren't dating anymore, I still like her.

"It's too bad," I told her. "I liked having you around." That made her smile again.

"I liked being around. I still care, you know. About both of you. He's had a crappy year, but he's a special person."

I returned the sentiment and she asked me about classes and work, and it all felt normal.

It's really too bad. She seemed good for him.

Sorry Cassie, I know you only asked about hockey. I figured since I had so little to say about the sport and my relationship to the game, I could tell you about some other stuff. I hope that's okay.

Cheers,

Wes

. . .

Texts sent January 28, 2017 at 9:52am

Cassie Belford: Why don't we go to parties?

Simon Idzik: Are you being serious right now?

Simon Idzik: You hate parties. And you hate most people.

Simon Idzik: If I hadn't followed you around freshman year, you and I probably wouldn't even be friends today.

Cassie Belford: Sure, but that's me. YOU have lots of friends. Don't they have birthdays? And don't those birthdays result in parties?

Simon Idzik: Yeah, sometimes. But I don't really bring them up. I didn't think you'd be interested.

Cassie Belford: I'm not. I was just curious.