Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three (22 page)

A
new year
, a new start? Nope, 2009 was looking as challenging as last year had been. My one shot at the big time had been the disastrous interview with Peter Haines. And I had to plead with Peter to explain to Marc Latour what actually happened. All I needed was for Williams to hear a rumour that I was giving blowjobs in the Canucks dressing room—it would confirm what he thought anyway and give him a reason to fire me. Peter acted all amused and superior, and kept saying, “You owe me big time, Kelly.”

But he had done it, and then gotten sent back down to Manitoba. So other than a boring interview clip, there were no repercussions from my brief moment in the spotlight. In January, I was back to covering human-interest stories, but luckily, no more hockey-playing dogs.

“Tanaka! Get in here.” I flinched when I heard Brendan Williams’s gravelly voice. Normally, he only called me in to give me hell, mock me, or threaten to fire me. Only a few people were still left in the “firing date” pool. Too bad nobody had bet on me actually surviving my probation, which was coming up in a week’s time.

“I see you’ve been working hard on your little human interest pieces. It’s always good to have filler around for the down times.”

Awesome, just what I was hoping to hear—all my work seen by twelve people.

“But there have been comments,” he raised his eyebrows here, “that we’re not using you to your fullest… capabilities.”

Sarcastic pause.

“I begged to differ, but Ross Laurie’s a personal
friend
, right?”

Suggestive pause. I didn’t bother correcting him.

“He can be a very stubborn man. So, I’m supposed to give you more high profile assignments.”

Williams gave me a big shit-eating grin.

“I’d like you to get the postgame comments at GM Place tonight.” 

Was he kidding me? This was awesome, finally a chance to go to an NHL game and talk to some of the actual Canucks!

“From the Chicago Blackhawks.”

J
eremy Ormiston got all
the best reporting assignments. He was the one who usually did the postgame one-on-ones with the Canucks or the live feed interview with the player of the game. He was a little surprised to find out that I was his counterpart in Chicago dressing room, but he was chipper as usual.

“Team Pokémon has got the Hawks, okey-dokey. We’ll meet up in the edit suite after the game and see what you get.” Zack and I had a new nickname these days. He wore trucker’s caps, had pale skin and messy hair. I was half-Japanese and as energetic as Pikachu. It was a huge step up from my previous nicknames.

The Chicago Blackhawks were on a tear and considered to be the league’s top team and a potential Stanley Cup winner. So they were favoured to win this game. I was way back in the press box, as befitted my lowly status. Everyone pretty much ignored me and talked to the people they already knew, which was fine with me.

However, the Canucks ended up dominating, chasing the starting goalie for the Hawks, and winning 5-1. The game was marred only by a fight between Vancouver’s Adam March and Chicago’s William Kissman.

And the lone goal by the Blackhawks was scored by James Frechette.

What can I say? It was pretty weird that the first time I got to see Jimmy play in the NHL was under these circumstances. He played okay—well, better than okay—but I could read his body language and he was frustrated that the team couldn’t get rolling. He took a dumb slashing penalty in the second. Of course, a few people in the press box knew I had had a relationship with him, which was unbelievably awkward. I guessed tonight was going to be every bad thing Williams wanted, especially since watching Jimmy play was giving me some very unprofessional emotions.

After the game, I had to submit a list of players that I wanted to talk to one-on-one to the Media Relations guy from the Blackhawks, Tim Glasser. I could tell from the onceover he gave me that he knew exactly who I was and whom I had dated.

“Well, Kelly, I heard you were working for C2C Sports, but I had no idea you were doing Canucks games already.”

Apparently he wasn’t a fan of lousy defencemen. “I get around,” I said, then realized how sleazy that sounded.

“Oh, do you?” he asked, as I handed over the list. Due the lack of Chicago star power on display tonight, I didn’t have a ton of choices. I had asked for William Kissman, Ty Ballanchuk, and of course—the guy who had scored the only goal. Tim looked at it, raised his eyebrows and then frowned at me. “I don’t think I should let you talk to James without giving him a heads-up first. We had no idea it was going to be you in the room. I’m not saying it’s a big deal for him, but we don’t want any extra drama here. Isn’t that why they sent you in the first place?”

Tim was certainly a straight shooter. If Williams found out about this, I was in big trouble. But if I got anything decent, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

“No worries, Tim. He scored the only Hawks goal, so I had to request him. But to be honest, it wasn’t something that I was looking forward to anyway. Strike him from the list, and we’re cool here.”

Tim smiled at me. “Thanks. Of course anyone can do the scrum with him—just no one-on-ones. I’m sure you’ll be cleared by the next time we’re in town. Good luck.”

A few minutes later, the dressing room doors opened and the media rushed into the room. I followed Zack inside and took a deep breath. The rooms got bigger and nicer, but the essential smell was still the same. The stinky smell I always associated with hockey games and fun. I felt a certain confidence seeping into me—I could do this.

As I surveyed the room, I could tell that Jimmy was already in the middle of a mini-scrum on one side of the room after his awesome one goal performance. I made my way over, but I was kind of boxed out on the side. I was pretty sure that Jimmy hadn’t seen me yet, but I could see him. He looked sweaty, frustrated, and—hot.

Shit. I needed to be a professional. My stupid body was having this whole magnet/steel reaction. But parting the scrum and straddling him would not be a normal reporter action. I tried not to breathe too deeply, in case I picked up his scent. I closed my eyes briefly, and as I closed them, I saw Brendan Williams’s face, smirking at me when he gave me this assignment. He did it because he knew it might be a problem for me. He wanted me to screw up so he could fire me and prove himself right. Fuck Williams, I could do this.

There was a brief pause in the questioning, and I jumped in.

“James, was the penalty you took in the second a sign of your frustration with the way the team was playing tonight?”

Jimmy turned towards me, and his eyes widened in shocked recognition. His mouth opened for a moment, and then shut. Then, he deliberately turned away and ignored me.

Shit. There was a weird silence, and then I asked my question again.

Still Jimmy said nothing. Finally Bob Harper, who I knew from C2C Sports Radio, asked the identical question for me.

Jimmy frowned and finally answered. “I don’t think I was frustrated with the team, so much as with my own performance. We certainly didn’t bring our A-game tonight, and the results show that.”

Since there was no point in my staying here, I backed off from the scrum and grabbed my BlackBerry, which had been vibrating non-stop.

“Jesus, Kelly, you need to pick up my calls right away,” Jeremy hissed when I phoned him back. “Please tell me you put William Kissman on your one-on-one list.”

“Of course.” The fight was one of the only highlights of the Hawk’s performance.

“Good girl! Adam March went ballistic when we talked to him about the fight. He called Kisser a cheap shot artist and a coward. Send Zack over and you can show Kissman the video, and get a reaction.”

“Okay, I will.” I was still reeling a bit from the scrum, but this was a real opportunity.

“Don’t screw this up, Tanaka,” Jeremy warned me. “If I didn’t have to do live postgame shit, I’d be doing this myself. Maximize the drama, okay?”

“For sure.” How was I supposed to do that?

“I’ll meet you in the edit suite right after.”

Zack sauntered off to get a copy of the March video. Ty Ballanchuk walked by.

“Why hello, Kelly.” His welcoming grin made me realize that this wouldn’t be a complete uphill battle.

“Hey, Ty.”

“You’re really moving up in the world now,” he commented. “Didn’t I see you on a car commercial too?”

I laughed. “Yeah, did I convince you to switch from your Porsche to a Honda?”

“Totally. I have a whole fleet of Hondas now.” Probably would have been an even trade.

“Then my work here is done.” Just then, Zack came back, so I said goodbye to Ty and we found William. He was sitting in his cubby and icing his hand.

“Hi, William. I’m Kelly Tanaka from C2C Sports.”

“Hey.” He smiled and nodded.

“Would it be okay if we talked to you a bit about the game?”

“Me? Sure, probably not my best game.”

“No worries, you always bring emotion, which is what we’re interested in.”

I nodded at Zack, who started rolling.

I started off with some softball questions to get things going. William seemed relaxed, even when I got into his history with Adam March. They had had a few confrontations last season, but no fights. Both were hard-nosed players, but not normally fighters.

William was politically correct, and said nothing controversial at all. Obviously, he had been well trained by the Blackhawks media department, unlike some people. Then I showed him the video of March calling him a coward.

All hell broke loose.

“That mother-fucking pussy. He’s a douchebag who’s always talking and never backing anything up. What a bullshitter. He’s a chicken and a diver just like his girlfriend, Latour. I would take him on, anytime, anyplace. Just name the spot, March, and I will be there. When’s our next fucking game? I’m going to rip his head off next time we step on the fucking ice!”

I managed to calm William down enough to wrap things up. Zack and I headed to the exit and I was relieved not to see Jimmy around any more.

Once outside, we high-fived each other. Without even playing it back, I knew we had gotten some awesome footage. I had struck out with Jimmy’s scrum, but I was hoping that the Kissman interview would save my skin.

J
ames

O
kay
, I had been stupid and immature, but who could blame me? I was in the dressing room, enduring the usual media scrum, and hearing the same questions over and over. While I didn’t mind doing it after a win, I was always pissed off after a loss and hated rehashing the game. We lost because we didn’t score more goals than the other team. What was so hard about that?

And then to have Kelly appear in the room, and start asking me questions like every other idiot. What was weird was that I sensed she was there before I even saw her. I sniffed something crazy and familiar. It was just a whiff of lemon and spice and sweetness, above the usual dressing room smells. Lucky I still had my hockey pants on, because the scent was giving me a hard-on.

And then I looked over the heads of the reporters and there she was. She was looking at me expectantly and waiting for me to answer. I was kind of stunned silent for a moment, but then all I felt was resentment. How come she got everything she wanted? She was probably engaged to stupid Davidson and now she had the perfect job as a hockey reporter. Only a few months ago she was the receptionist, for crying out loud. Who gets to be a reporter in that short a time and without any experience?

So, I didn’t answer her. She had made my life miserable for long enough, so I felt like I could inconvenience her a little bit. She looked different, more grown up and polished. But even I couldn’t deny how good she still looked. I’d never seen her in a suit before, and she looked professional, but still hot.

With all this crap going through my brain, I ignored her question. I guess I was still upset with her. Or maybe it bothered me that I hadn’t even known that this was what she was doing. She should have warned me she was going to be in the room—on my turf.

The scrum finished quickly, probably because I was so distracted. Tim Glasser from Hawks Media Relations asked to speak to me privately. We stepped into the trainer’s room and shut the door.

“So, that scrum with Kelly Tanaka didn’t go so well.”

“What’s she doing here? How long has she been doing this?”

“She’s a reporter for C2C Sports. She started there a couple of months ago. But this was her first time doing a postgame. I suspect they sent her as a deliberate provocation for you.”

I guess it had worked then. Tim continued, “I guess her being in the room is a problem for you. Do you want me to get rid of her?”

I shrugged. The biggest problem was that I wanted to run over and start by kissing her and finish up by fucking her, but that wasn’t the kind of problem I wanted to share with Media Relations.

Professionally speaking, I was torn. I didn’t want to be a prima donna who got reporters banned from the room. If I banned her, it would seem like sour grapes. And I knew deep down that I wanted to see her. It was stupid, but outside of all the emotion she churned up in me, part of me liked seeing her. There were so many nights I longed to call her, not even to get back together but just to talk again. Talking to her always eased my mind because she understood everything. Maybe with time, we could even be friends again—but not if I kicked her out of the room.