Drop The Puck, It's Time To Go

“They fall in line, one at a time, ready to play, I can’t see them anyway, no time to lose, we’ve got to move, steady your hand, I am losing sight again, fire your guns, its time to run, blow me away! I will stay unless I may, after the fall, we’ll shake it off, show me the way!” Dragging the water buckets behind me to be filled, I began to sing to myself one of my favorite songs that reminded me so much of Bruins hockey. I still remember coming to one of the last games with my dad before he died and they played that song. It’s the song to reminds me of him. It’s been nearly four years now, but its still fresh in my mind. Still hurt deep inside, this tiny hole that so far, I have not been able to fill, even at twenty-one.
“Dude, I hear her singing! She’s over here!”
“Jackpot! Let’s go harass her!”
“I wonder if she’ll get me a drink, I’m thirsty.” I stopped filling up the water bucket at the sounds of the voices and dropped the half filled bucket on the floor, bracing myself for the annoyance that was to come in threes; Patrice Bergeron, Johnny Boychuk, and Brad Marchand. The original three, I kind of think of them as. The three I first met that day back in 2008.
“RRRRRROOOOOOXANNE!” Boychuk was the first to introduce himself around the corner, signing in a terrible voice one of the most hated songs since I knew of its meaning early high school.
“Hi Johnny, and no, no drink for you now.” I responded, pointing a finger at the player.
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO PUT ON THE RED LIIIIIGHT!!!”
“PATRICE! Shut up, I hate that line!”
“ROOOOOOXANNNE!” Johnny added in after Patrice, I could only imagine now what Marchand was going to say after.
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR THAT DRESS TONIGHT!” Throwing the fingerless gloves I had on as part of the outfit I was wearing tonight to the ground like a hockey player, I got into a stance.
“Ok, now that’s just crossing the line!”
“Oh wait, you aren’t wearing a dress, let me change up the lyrics then. ROOOOOXANE, YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR THAT SHIRT TON-”
SLAM!
183 pounds of man just went crashing to the floor thanks to the 130 pounds of short woman nearby. That’s right, I’m awesome.
“Shit Roxanne! I think you dislocated my shoulder! Now how the hell am I going to be able to play tonight?” Brad whined as I got off him and strutted over to continue filling the orange Gatorade buckets with water in victory.
“If you can’t play then maybe the Bruins will be able to win a game.”
“OOOOOOHHHH!” Patrice and Johnny both chorused.
“Oh, thanks Roxy, very caring of you. Remind me not to invite you out tonight if we win.” Marchand finally got off the floor and I finally got the first bucket filled, whistling victoriously.
“You might not invite me, but I’m sure someone else would.”
“Like Tuuk? I know he would love to see you with out that dress tonight-”
SPLASH!!
“OH SHIT, ROXANNE! THE GAME IS LESS THAN TWO HOURS AWAY!!” Marchand began to spit water out of his mouth and whip his wet outfit everywhere, spraying Bergeron and Boychuk. I used the bucket as a shield from the water.
“Well I hope that teaches you a lesson to keep your tongue in check then! Patrice! Johnny!”
“Yes ma’am!” Johnny called out, saluting me.
“What can we do for you?” Bergeron followed suit.
“Take Bradina away so I can finish up my chores.” I said, waving my hand in emphasis.
“Hey! No fair! They’re just as big as a distraction!” Marchand whined.
“C’mon fairy boy, let’s go spread that fairy dust!” Boychuk said, roughly grabbing Marchand.
“Come bless the team with thy holy water. Our dear Tuukka needs it, he’s goalie tonight.” Bergeron continued, mirroring Boychuk’s actions. I shook my head at the antics and went back to finishing up what I was doing, completing my job in less that fifteen minutes. Shit, I would have been done way earlier if I haven’t been interrupted by freaking Team Canada. Very unoriginal, I know. But what else can you say about three Canadians who sing Roxanne to you and then cause more trouble in the locker room? It’s insane to think that if I hadn’t dropped out and moved in with my brother and got a job at the TD, I wouldn’t have met any of the Bruins, or became good friends with them. In all honesty, despite having a low end job that just got me rent and food, I have been having a wicked good time here at the Garden. But I couldn’t keep doing this. I needed something more, something bigger in life.
Dating a hockey player would get me there I think…
Hockey games for life? Oh hells yes please! But a chance with that? Long shot. The guys were great, but I don’t think any of them would date the red haired, green-eyed barely-making-it-through-life girl that fills their water buckets and bottles. Even though it’s great being around the guys, I couldn’t keep doing something like this for the rest of my life. It’s just not living. Lifting the water buckets, I headed towards what was going to be a hectic locker room. I could hear the talking as I entered the hallway towards it, lugging the water.
“Alright boys, settle down!” Coach Julien called from the locker room. I pushed the door opened and entered, just as the team began to settle down, doing their warm ups and getting their shit all on. “Today we go up against the Buffalo Sabres, who we all know pretty well at this point- finally you got the water Roxanne. Took you long enough today, can you place it one here for water bottle filling and the other on the bench like usual. I have more for you to complete after that. Ok, boys, anyways, The Buffalo Sabres-” I zoned out the little coach pep talk being made as I plopped the water down on the bench, startling Gregory Campbell out of a day dream that seemed to involve his hockey stick for he was starring intently at it.
“Your welcome!” I hissed, then quickly lugged the other water out to the bench before Coach snapped at me for a) running late (remind me to kill Team Canada for that later) b) making noise c) distracting a player and d) interrupting his speech. Dropping the water on the bench I looked out at the empty rink. Shit, there was something about an empty rink that gets into you, you know? There’s this sort of “aw” about it. Shit, there have been legends on that ice, legends being made now. Like Erika Harper. The first female player in the NHL. I remember watching one of her games on this very ice, just spellbound at the fact that she had so much more dedication than me, that she took that extra step farther than me and made it to the NHL. I sat down on the bench and continued to stare at the rink, wondering what I was going to end up doing with my life. Shit, to me that feels like I’m just gambling away young years that I’m going to regret in the future. I wish I could be a hockey star, young years sure as hell not wasted in that.
“ROOOOOOOXAANNE!”
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR THAT SHIRT TONIGHT!” I jumped in my seat at the chorus of cheers from the locker room. AKA, the entire team singing a new version of that hateful song. Oh those assholes, they knew just how to get under my skin. And how to get my attention for my next assignment. Straightening my shirt and shaking my head, I braced myself for the chaos that was the Bruins. Entering the room, and stood tall, green eyes facing the coach, trying so desperately not to give the room the finger.
“Funny how when you sing a song about a prostitute, she comes.” Daniel Paille pointed out. Shit, didn’t put that into prospective…fuck you Paille for having to point that fact out!
“Holy shit! Didn’t realize that! Hey Roxy! How much tonight!?” Boychuk asked.
“Alright, enough! I let you guys do it once, now enough is enough.” Coach said. “Go back to meditating like school girls.”
“YES SIR!” Came a chorus of young voices. Yeah, have you noticed all the trouble has been the ones under twenty-six? I’m waiting for them to grow up like the rest of the team.
“Roxy, I need you to run the away bench and fetch an extra medical kit. We’re missing one back here.”
“Will do Coach.” I said, heading towards the door. “Cause we all know with someone like Marchand on the ice, you’re going to need it.”
“HEY! Not cool!” I quickly left before Marchand could say anything else to my comment. Walking the hallway, I began to whistle Blow Me Away again, passing so much media and other people working to get this place ready for show time. I’m pretty sure people were lining up outside, eager to get it and watch the game. Entering the now dubbed “Sabres Zone” for the night (only this night though, it’s going to be Capitals Zone next home game), I walked up with my arms crossed to one of the medical team.
“Hello, what can we do for you?” One asked.
“Coach Julien is wondering if we can have an extra medical kit, apparently the Bruins is missing one.”
“I was wondering why we had an extra…hey Joe! Can you go fetch that?”
“Sure thing Steve.” I then proceeded to wait with my arms crossed, looking around as I waited to fetch what Coach Julien wanted me to fetch. I can only imagine what my next job was. Maybe I wouldn’t have one…I don’t know. The only way I knew I had no more job till the start of the game would be if I had to go through the “who’s jersey will you be wearing tonight, oh Roxanne?” game. That included reaching my hand into a bag and pulling out a jersey. The past three games I’ve been resigned to wearing Marchand’s. Oh did he enjoy that.
I wanted to wear Tuukka Rask’s at least once.
Even after meeting him and talking to him for two years, he has still been dubbed as my favorite. He was a quiet guy, a man dedicated to the sport he played. You couldn’t even tell that he was from Finland, not a touch of an accent there.
“Here you go, you guys are going to need it.” Steve said, handing me the kit. I snapped out of my daze, taking the kit.
“Ha, ha. Nice try man. Twenty bucks the Bruins give the first injury to the Sabres.”
“I’m going to handshake for that one, hun.” Steve held out his hand and I took it.
“You’re on. But if neither side gets hit, no one wins anything.”
“Works for me. Better get twenty bucks ready.”
“No, I think you should get that $20 ready.” With that I twirled around and headed back to the Bruins locker room, this time humming Shipping Up To Boston by the Dropkick Murpheys.
Hey, anyone from Massachusetts hums this song.
It’s our motherfucking theme bitches!
“I’m shipping to Boston, ay ay oooh!” I entered the locker room singing to myself, causing Nathan Horton, David Krejci, and Milan Lucic to stare at me weirdly then burst into a smile start signing along too once they recognized it.
“WE’RE SHIPPING UP TO BOSTON!!!!!”
“AY AY OOOOOH!!!” I added on.
“Will you guys shut up? You’re messing up my meditation!” Marchand yelled from the other side of the room.
“Oh shut it you stupid Canadian!” I said back.
“Hey…no Canadian jokes. This whole locker room is filled with them.” Marchand warned, pointing a hockey stick in my direction.
“Hey, last time I checked we have two Germans, four Americans, two Czechoslovakians, oh, an one Fin! That does not make a whole locker room of Canadians!” I added.
“No, that just leaves fifteen! WHO’S MINORITY NOW!?”
“Me.” Tuukka said from his corner. That caused part of the room to start chuckling.
“Alright! Enough! Focus team! Enough with this whole ‘who’s country is better’ shit. Roxanne, did you get the kit?” I turned my full attention to Coach Julien.
“Right here Coach, just like you asked me too.”
“Yeah, you also manage to rile up the team as well…” He added, none to nicely. I sighed.
“I’m sorry Coach.”
“You always are yet you still continue to…”
“Awww Coach, its not all her fault. We just love our Roxanne so much.” Boychuck said, in a fake sweet voice.
“She’s our shining star!” Marchand said.
“Our ray of hope!” Bergeron added. I rolled my eyes, as I headed to the first aid center to drop off the kit before they started to either a) give me bear hugs (no pun intended) b) sing Roxanne or c) Coach continued to get on my case.
“Hey, Roxanne, get your ass back here!” I heard Marchand call. “It’s time for you to pick the jersey you will be wearing!”
“Let’s hope its not you again.” Wheeler said. “I think if I hear another one of your dating jokes again on the bench I might just have to deck you out from the bench.”
“That would certainly be the best sports report I’d ever see…” Boychuck said dreamily. “Brad Marchand, decked out by own teammate.” Returning to the locker room I pointed at Wheeler.
“I’m with you on that one.” I then pointed at Boychuck. “And for once I have been please with what came out of that mouth.”
“That’s what she saaaaaid” Boychuck commented, giving an immature grin.
“Yes Johnny, that is exactly what I said.” I shot back, before turning my back on him and faced the grinning Marchand with the hockey bag filled with what I knew had to be everyone’s jerseys.
“C’mon Roxy, its time to see who is going to get your support today!”
“You get around…” Krejci commented.
“Like a prostitute!” Horton added in.
“That’s our Roxaaaaaaannne!” Bergeron added in his two cents while filling up his water bottle.
“WILL YOU MEN JUST SHUT UP!?” I yelled. “Marchand, open the god damn bag and get this over with!”
“If you say so sweetheart, but I have no money on me right now so can we just slip in and I leave you a pay you later note?”
SLAM!
CRASH!
CLATTER!
Yup, dear Brad Marchand just found himself part of his cubby, hockey items clattering around his head. I stomped over to the bag and promptly reached in and grabbed a jersey. I saw the #40 on the sleeve and I dropped to the ground in a victory stance.
“THANK YOU TUUKKA RASK! YOU HAVE BROKEN THE MARCHAND CURSE!”
“I did what…?” Tuuk asked, turning around with his helmet in hand to see Marchand struggling to get out of his cubby and me on the ground praising the heavens. I then gave him my attention, flashing him his jersey.
“I’m supporting you tonight. AKA, you broke the horrendous three games in a row Marchand Curse.”
“Now let’s hope that means it brings me good luck and not bad luck.” I got off the floor and crossed my arms.
“Not very Mr. Rask, calling me a curse myself.” I noticed Brad had finally gotten out of his cubby and shaking off the collision.
“You are a curse!” He said, before acting like a little girl, storming off with his stick. “And how dare you steal my good luck charm Tuuk! I might have to check you for that!”
“Suck it up Marchand, you can’t hog her for yourself.” Tuukka called after him, then turning back to me. “By the way, how did he get super soaked and who’s grand idea was it to have him shake it on me, claiming to be a holy man a wishing me good luck?” I blinked then started dying of laughter.
“Me! Well, for the first part! But whoever came up with the second part is awesome!”
“That would be me Roxy, thank you so much for that compliment.” Bergeron slung his arm over my shoulder.
“Never mind! Scratch what I just said! Tuuk, you heard nothing!” I called.
“Lies!” Patrice said, while Tuuk just smiled. “Where is your support!?”
“It’s going to our dear goalie, Tuukka Rask. That holy hockey bag had spoken.” I said, slipping the jersey over my existing outfit. I planted my hands on my waist as to emphasize my point to Patrice before looking to Rask. “Now if you excuse me, I have a job to do. Good luck on the ice, you have my cheers and support tonight.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one.” Rask smiled, before heading out towards the rink. I quickly headed off to complete my pregame chore before I joined the team on the bench, trying to figure out why my hands were shaking.

*****

“NICE SAVE TUUK!” I cried, blindly handing Wheeler his filled water bottle, watching the game intently. Rask just made a pretty intense save, causing the TD Garden to echo with the fans yelling “TUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK!” Bruins were up 3 to 1.
“Hey, no fair! You didn’t give me any support when I scored goal numero tres!” Marchand called next to me.
“Ok, 1) You are not Spanish, so please speak English and 2) Who’s jersey did I pull out of the bag today?”
“…Tuuk’s…” Marchand said glumly.
“Exactly.”
“It’s ok Marchand, she floats around the team. She’ll come back to you soon.” Mark Stuart gave Marchand a pat on the back.
“Hardee har har…aren’t we hilarious.” I said. “No water for you.” I snatched Stuart’s water bottle from his hand and placed it behind me.
“Hey! Not cool! You don’t want to have me in the hospital for dehydration!”
“You’re not going to die from dehydration Mark!”
“I wants my water!”
“Speak better English than that! Shit, Tuuk isn’t even American and he sounds more like a citizen than you!”
“Just because you wear his number doesn’t mean you can insult me using his name!”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, and handed back the water bottle, watching as the third period time ticked down to the ending.
“Going to be a win tonight, I feel it.” I heard Coach Julien say to someone else. I then began to daze off again, realizing that I still thankfully I didn’t lose $20, but sadly I didn’t gain $20…
“Hey Marchand, I have a small favor to ask.” Marchand looked at me quickly.
“You called, oh Roxanne?”
“Told you she’d come circling back!” I ignored Stuart and instructed Marchand.
“I made a bet with the one of the guys from the medical team on the Sabres side that if the Bruins took out a Sabre first I would get $20 and vice versa with him, you think you can go out there and win me $20?” Marchand tapped his chin.
“I don’t know…you haven’t been rooting for me-” Out on the ice, Jason Pominville of the Sabres nearly scored a goal but in attempting to get that puck in, he beat on Tuukka, which is just so not ok, agreed? You don’t touch the goalie! “Oh hell no! Pominville, you are mine!” Marchand said, getting ready to jump back in, nearly jumping in when line change came in.
“Give him hell for me Marchand! I want my twenty bucks!!”
“You are such a bad influence…” I stuck my tongue out at Tim Thomas.
“Shut it, not only did that player take out Rask, here is a chance for me to get twenty bucks! I need all the money I can get!”

*****

The game ended with a fantastic Bruins victory, and a nasty take out on Pominville and me gaining my twenty dollars. The irony of it? It wasn’t Marchand that got the money for me, it was Tuuk. How? A nice legal move on Pominville when he tried scoring. Rask not only grabbed that puck effortlessly, he also swept Pominville off his feet “in the process in getting the puck”.
He he he he heeee….
Hello the sweet smell of a twenty-dollar bill…
“I say celebration! Who’s with me!?” Bergeron called out. Numerous cheers echoed the locker room.
“Hey! Roxanne! Your brother still works at Boston Beer Works right?” I stopped what I was doing and turned my attention to Mark Stuart.
“Yeah, he does. You want me to call him and request one of the function rooms upstairs? He can sneak us all in the back.”
“Like last time? Hell yeah! They have good beer!” I didn’t notice who said that for I began to finish my chore of cleaning out the water bins and bottles while balancing my phone on my shoulder, calling the bro.
“Helllo?” Came my brother’s answer.
“Hey Ben, its Roxanne! I call in request of the Boston Bruins.” I told him.
“Roxy!! How’s my younger sister!? Saw you were supporting Rask today, good for you. Better than the last three games with Marchand.”
“Oh believe me, it was a motherfucking relief!”
“I bet, especially since you got to support your heartthrob.”
“BEN! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU INSINUATING!?” I had a bunch of heads turn towards me and I growled as I heard my brother’s annoying snickers in the background.
“I have struck gold!”
“No you haven’t you spineless twerp. I have a favor to ask though on the behalf of the-”
“BOSTON BRUINS WHO KICKASS!”
“MARCHAND, SHUT UP!” I yelled, sending a water bottle in his direction. I could hear Ben laughing in the background.
“Ok, let me guess, The Bruins want that function room again right?”
“You guessed correct. Is it possible?”
“Let me check with my manager but I’m 99% sure it’s a go!”
“Ok, I’ll wait for the response!”
“Actually, I might not until you do something.”
“Oh god, what is it?” I asked, slightly knowing what was coming…
“Tell me that I did strike gold with the Rask accusations!”
“No! I wont! Because you didn’t!”
“I hear defensiveness creeping in!”
“I DON’T LOVE HIM BEN!”
“LIES! I KNOW YOU DO!” I let my eyes stray to the side of the locker room where Rask was emerging from underneath his equipment. When I had first met him, he never was something to look at till you talk to him and look at him a bit closer…damn you Benjamin McGregor! You read me too god damn well…stupid siblings.
“Fine! I do! I love that guy! I worship the ground he walks on! Is that good enough for you?”
“VICTORY! Yes, let me go get the ok.” I sat in brooding silence as I wait for my brother’s response. Before I knew it, I heard his voice. “It’s a go! You guys can come whenever you’re ready!”
“Thanks bro, you’re invited too when you get off work.”
“Oh, I will come. And I will keep you away from Tuukka Rask though. No way are you going near him! I don’t think I can handle my sister dating a Bruin, let alone dating!”
“BEN!” Too late, the other end died and I shut my phone in annoyance, while announcing to the group.
“Good news men, Boston Beer Works is a go.”
“Yes! Remind me to kiss your brother when we get there!” Marchand called.
“Oh dear god no!” I groaned.
“So Roxanne, who do you love and worship the ground they walk on?” Boychuck asked.
“Your mutha, Johnny.” I said, before heading out to complete my remaining tasks as fast as I could, trying not to look at Tuuk.

*****

“Only the strongest will survive, lead me to heaven, when we die, I am the shadow on the wall, I'll be the one to save us all!!!!” I had BBW’s signature drink in one hand and the other was wrapped around Marchand’s as we both sang along on the top of our lungs to Blow Me Away, which just came on the radio at the place. Shit, I love this song so goddamn much.
“I hope they play Roxanne next!” Bergeron said.
“Oh fuck you!” I yelled back, breaking away from Marchand on a quest to kick Bergeron. I then got someone grabbing my arms and causing me to stop short of my destination.
“Damn you Benjamin! Let me at him!”
“No, you already do enough damage by signing.” The place began to echo with the team yelling OOOOOOOOOH!!! “Instead, let me do the honors as a brother by beating his ass.”
“Ha ha! I like your logic! But you’re still an asshole for that comment.” I said, stopping my struggles as my awesome brother began to stalk the retreating Bergeron.
“Hey man, c’mon, we’re bros!” Patrice pleaded. I giggled and turned my attention to the rest of the place. It was hectic as usual, a small room filled with an entire NHL team, laughing and enjoying a good win over good home brewed beer.
“I heard you gained twenty dollars today thanks to my beat down on Pominville.” I turned my attention to see Tuukka showing up at my side.
“Yes I did, thank you for that. Bought me this beer.” I held up the drink I had in my hand towards him.
“What is that, your…?”
“I think my third. Probably should quit after this one.”
“Probably…?”
“Shut uuuuup. I’m not a fucking light weight!” I defended myself. But of course, asI finished saying that, I went to place my empty glass on the table before me and I managed to trip on my own two feet and stumbled, which brought out a chuckle from Tuuk. “Oh shut it you!”
“Lightweight my ass…” Was all he responded.
“Roxy! Don’t tell me your drunk already!” I heard my brother yell.
“No! I’m not!” I defended.
“She is.” Tuukka responded.
“Don’t listen to him! He lies!” I yelled, finding myself stumbling over and trying to cover Tuukka’s mouth with my hand. Tuukka raised his eyebrows at me as he easily pulled me off of him. Ben appeared with two more beers in hand.
“What did I say about clinging to him? Here, you look like you need a refill.”
“You think that’s wise?” Tuukka asked my brother, as I quickly let go off Tuuk and took the beer in my brother’s right hand.
“It is, my dear Rask, it is! Because this will be my last one, I swear!” I told Tuukka, taking a sip with a lopsided smile towards him.
“That’ what you said last time we were here when you were on your third one and before we knew it you had five beers and were dragging Marchand into that door over there declaring you were going to Narnia.” Tuuk mentioned, pointing to a janitor door.
“I did?”
“She did?” Me and my brother said at the same time, then looking at each other. “Gimme back that beer.” My brother then said.
“NO! You gave it to me!” I held my beer away from my brother and began to drink it down before a new hand came out and took it out of my hand.
“Nice try.” I growled at Tuukka, who put my half empty glass on the counter.
“C’mon, just hand over the beer, I want to celebrate with you guys.” I whined.
“I think you’ve done enough tonight, lightweight.” Ben stated. “If I weren’t back on work in ten minutes, I would take you back myself.”
“But I don’t wanna go!” I whined again, giving my brother puppy eyes.
“I can take her back.” Rask said.
“You can? Man, I don’t want to put this burden on you-” Ben argued.
“It’s fine, I think I need to go myself anyways, I’m feeling beat myself.”
“Hellloooo, is anyone listening to the center of the conversation? I don’t wanna go back!” I butted in.
“Tough luck, you’ve partied too hard.” Ben said. “Take care of her now. And don’t try anything or you’ll find a bad side of me.”
“Didn’t even cross my mind.” Tuukka said, chuckling. “And I’m sure Roxanne can show me how to get back to your place despite being on the verge of-”
“I am not drunk! I can still stand up straight!” I snapped, standing at attention only to find myself to lean favorably to the left.
“Ha, nice one.” Ben said, before leaving me in the hands of Tuukka Rask.