Leo immediately jumped to his feet and chased after him. Apparently, he wasn't having any of it and shoved Sadler against the board, giving him a few words. Leo was smaller than me and most defensemen. He was your average size for any center, but he could give it when needed. That night he gave it.
I'd never gotten along with Joel Sadler. We played in the Major Juniors together.
If you were to ask the coaches back then, and people frequently did, they'd say we were at each other's throats most of the time. I didn't know if that was true, but we did have our fair share of time in the penalty box.
Joel took another cheap shot at Leo on the face off and popped him in the mouth with his stick when the ref returned.
Chewing on my mouth guard, racking up minutes in the box, a girl tapped on the glass. I gave her a nod but not much else. My attention was on the ice and how I was going to let Joel know that even though he'd gotten away with it this time, he wasn't going to soon.
Bottom line was, if someone picked on our boys, like they were doing that night, I'd lay them out. Funny enough, I started out playing goalie and then moved to right wing. When the coaches saw how much I defended the other players, they moved me to defense. With that came the fighting.
Some thought I loved to fight. And I wouldn't necessarily disagree with them, but I wasn't doing it just to fight.
Did I like fighting?
Not really, but I was good at it, and that was how I got to be a defenseman.
A few things cause a hockey player to drop his gloves and dance: retaliation or retribution. For example, a guy checks up from behind and skates away. Then as you're making your shift change, he whacks you on the back of the legs. This warrants dropping the gloves the next time you meet on the ice. Provoking some players would challenge the other team for the sole purpose of winning. It was all about gaining the mental edge in hockey. A good scrape swung your way could do that, and it got the whole venue on their feet.
Then there was the intimidation. It went hand and hand with fear. Most fans had no idea how much trash talking went on, and they'd be surprised how much of it was for intimidation. School yard bullies at their finest. You wanted the other guy to think you were going to kick the shit out of him and make him think you were serious. We did this a lot in junior hockey, and still do in the NHL, but we had way more fun with it back in the junior leagues.
It was all about sending a message, and sometimes that message was personal.
There were times when fighting was done to draw a penalty, too. It was designed to change the way of play, to break it up. If you had a guy out there scoring, it was a way to get him off the ice.
Most wondered how we fought. How did we let them know? Well, it was as simple as dropping your gloves. There were times when I resisted and told them, "Hey, pick up your fucking gloves, you *. I'm not fighting you."
Other times, no words were exchanged. You simply grabbed their shoulders, slashed their stick, pushed them from behind, a glove to the face, all effective ways of letting them know you were ready for them.
We ended up winning against Atlanta, and then we were off to Ohio, and then we'd have a few week break.
I spent my twenty-first birthday on a plane, sleeping next to Leo, on our way home from Ohio after winning the game in overtime. Feeling pretty good, on that adrenaline again, I went straight to the hospital to see Ami.
This time she was asleep. It was late, and part of me was glad. A little drunk and after a win, I wasn't sure what I'd do. Instead, I wrote her a little note next to the key chain of a ballerina I'd picked up for her at the airport. Eventually I left, but not before watching her sleep for a while.
She was so peaceful. Her cheeks were red, her blankets bunched up near her face like she was cold. Reaching for another blanket in the closet, I situated that one on her to add to the mountain of blankets she always had. She liked to be warm.
I left after that and went back home to celebrate the rest of my birthday with Leo, Dave, and Remy. Bad idea.
During our break in the schedule, from the time we played the Blue Jackets to the time we were set to play the Islanders, I got to know Ami even more. Thankfully, I kept my hands and my lips to myself, but it was nice to talk to a girl that didn't care that I was a hockey player.
Even though she struggled with a few infections, Ami was slowly coming around and making a full recovery. The doctors assured us that there wouldn't be any lasting effects on her, and that even though she had some internal injuries from the guy being so forceful with her, she would be able to resume sexual activity if she chose to.
The fact that she would be okay had me hopeful. The fact that they mentioned sexual activity while I was in the room, assuming we were together, made me slightly uncomfortable.
Ami didn't seem one bit fazed by it.