The Only Way I've Got to Reach Her

Not a lot of hockey players actually open their fan mail. It was something I really didn’t understand…I mean, I didn’t always answer my fan mail in the quickest fashion, but I did read and reply to a letter or two a night…I didn’t HAVE to answer, hell I didn’t HAVE to even read them…but I did because...hell, people didn’t HAVE to buy my jersey, support Steadfast, or anything like that. It was the least I could do.

I packed my bags before a big road trip. I had two bags that I filled with all my huge goalie gear. And, as if that wasn’t enough, I had the bulky guitar case that I’d take on the bus with me to blow off steam. We were headed out on a longer trip so I thought I could definitely get some reading done on the bus. I gave the front office a shoebox for them to fill with the letters, as goofy an idea s it was; I was sure I could have probably found or used a better letter-holder, a bag or something. However, I’d been using the shoebox for a while…taking it on road trips, to and from my house and it worked well. You don’t just suddenly go changing something that worked, especially if you’re me. If you’re me, you’re lucky enough to change your boxers between games. Ok, that’s an exaggeration…but not too far off.

I spent a few hours on the bus reading and writing letters. I wasn’t really an outspoken person, but I liked to write. I usually averaged about a page that I would read over and rewrite at least once to make sure my message was read clear. And since a lot of my writers tended to be little kids, I always wanted to make sure they got a good letter from someone they often called their hero.

“You’ve been writing letters all day, aren’t you tired?” My roommate, Paul Gaustad asked, looking over at me from his bed. He was in his boxers, relaxed for bed. I shrugged, finishing off another letter, folding it up and sticking it in an envelope. I copied the address from the top-right corner of the envelope I'd recieved, biting my lip as I made sure not to make any mistakes, wanting it to get to the right person.

“Nah…I’m pretty happy about it.” I looked at him. “I know a lotta guys don’t do it…but sometimes they have little pictures…or they’re from kids…and you know how I am with kids.” I said pathetically.

“You’re like with kids the way Derek is with girls.” He laughed, rolling over onto his side. “You love little kids.” I laughed, shaking my head and biting my lip. “No…it’s not bad…but you’re always the first to go to the hospitals and stuff…you just…like being around kids.”

“Kids are cute.” I laughed, biting my lip and looking a little bit nervous about it. That couldn’t be a character flaw…could it? I pulled out a rather bulky envelope, one that was made of that kind of bubble-wrap, paper material. I tucked in my lower lip with wide eyes, showing Paul the package.

“Whoa…what do you think that is?” Paul asked, blinking in shock.

“Dunno.” I blinked. “There’s something big inside it…” I put my finger under the top lip, starting to pull it up.

“Wait!” Paul yelled. “Until you know what it is, cover your mouth…with your shirt.” He advised, using his blanket to demonstrate, covering his nose and mouth with the blanket and making a sort of medical-like mask out of it. I laughed nervously, looking between him and the package.

“You don’t think someone put something in it.” I laughed softly, feeling myself get a little apprehensive by his nervousness. I mean, I couldn’t think of someone putting something like, anthrax in my fan mail or something. But…Paul seemed to think someone would. “…no” I shook my head. “No one takes a game that seriously.”

“I dunno Millsy.” He said slowly. “I mean…girls jump in front of your car…” He said softly. “Who’s to say...?” He bit his lip, shaking his head. “Just cover your mouth so I don’t worry!” He said exasperatedly. I looked at him and laughed, biting my lip. I pulled my gray shirt over my mouth and nose, looking over at him, raising my eyebrows and tearing open the envelope.

No plume of white powder…nothing. I pulled out the slip of paper, folding it open to read it.

Ryan,
I know you like music…I saw a special about you playing guitar and it inspired me. I started to learn to play the guitar…I’m not very good. I’m not gonna end up playing with the Buffalo Orchestra any time soon! But I’m getting better…slowly but surely!
You did great in the Olympics. I tried to tell you after a game…but you left without giving autographs. I’m not angry though. A lot of women watched you drive away and started slandering your name. I didn’t understand what that was about, I don’t think that you’re a bad guy for wanting to get home quickly…it was a rough game. The Sabres didn’t win…so I don’t think that it was at all a bad thing for you to want to leave early. Don’t feel bad about it…I’ll get your autograph later I’m sure. I found a rookie card at a store by mistake that I’d like to have you sign. I didn’t think I would ever find a rookie card like that. It has a piece of game worn jersey in it, for only a few dollars. It was really worth the money. It’s one of my favorite cards.
I hope you guys do good this season. Wit the good rookies you’re really gonna have a good season…maybe even make a good bid for the cup! You’re doing so well this season...I never thought that this would be such a promising year...not that I mean that in a bad way, but sometimes you get frustrated as a fan, you know?
I noticed we have similar music interest. You did this interview where you were playing music on a rock station. I made you a mixed tape of some bands that I think you might like…or songs you haven’t heard. Just trying to broaden your horizons… I hope you like it!
-Casey

I grinned and tipped the pouch, holding out my hand to catch the tape. I pulled my nose out of my shirt and grinned, looking at the little label that read ‘Mixed Tape for Ryan.’ It was kind of sweet, kind of cute.

“What is it?” Paul asked, and I looked over, seeing him tip his head curiously. I grinned, showing him the cassette tape.

“A mixed tape.” I laughed. “This girl apparently heard me on the radio and thinks we have similar music taste, so she made me one."

“People still make those?” He asked, blinking. “People still use tapes?” It dawned on me then. I didn’t think I could listen to it.

“I don’t think I have a cassette player.” I said, hearing the sound of upset in my own voice.

“You seem a little invested in that thing buddy.” Paul laughed, rolling onto his back, starting to change TV channels aimlessly.

“Well I wanna know what’s on it.”

“Then I guess you gotta find a cassette player.”

“Yeah....Guess I can’t write back until I listen to it.” I said softly, turning over the tape in my fingers, just looking at it. “I didn’t know people could even make these anymore.” I whispered.

“You’re way too invested buddy” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just put it away and go to sleep. You gotta kick ass tomorrow.” I bit my lip. Curiosity was killing me now.

“Yeah...” I said softly, folding up the letter and putting it on the side table, placing the tape on top. “I guess I do.” He turned off the TV with a yawn, getting up to check the thermostat and sliding into bed. He reached up to the light switch over his bed at the same time I did.

“Night Mills” He yawned.

“Night Goose.”