Heart of Man

“I don’t regret anything I said after the game. It’s my honest opinion, and if someone wants to blame me for what I think and how I feel, then we have a problem.”

“Anna, just shut up and listen to me. I know it’s just an opinion, but she’s going to take it personally. Just breathe tonight. For me? I don’t want to have to worry about you dropping your gloves every other second. You aren’t an enforcer for God’s sake, and I know you fight well on the ice, but I just want to night to go as smooth as possible. She’s going to cause enough problems already.” Vincent urged, as I taped my legs up.

~

My hands shook the broken stick in my hands. Warm-ups had just started, and I had broken my stick. Simon gave me a sad glance that did nothing for my self-esteem. “Please stop.” He only shook his head, before handing me my back-up. I hadn’t had to use a back-up stick since I played against Yugra and the KHL. In other words, over a month ago.

Looking up to the Capitals’ side of the ice, I looked for Semyon, only to see him sitting behind the bench. I had heard that he had an injury of some sort, but was in the process of healing. “It’s the same anger. We’re channeling our inner PISSED OFF-NESS AT A CERTAIN PERSON!” I heard the feminine voice screech out across the ice, as Erika Harper appeared to my vision, surrounded by #74, and someone else I couldn’t see clearly. I shrugged, wondering exactly that this bitch’s problem was.

Stepping back onto the ice, we skated our laps, before lining up for the anthem. I looked at the back of the Capitals’ jerseys, familiarizing myself with a few of them. Harper, Ovechkin, Laich, Semin, and Green. The netminder was Neuvirth.

Harper was Erika Harper, captain and a royal bitch, in my opinion. Of course, the Flyers weren’t obviously the most un-biased people, but a few opinions of a few other players that lined up the same eventually validated my opinion. Ovechkin, I doubt would remember me. But of course, he knew everything, so he probably would.

“You lie to team?”

“Of course I didn’t, you jackass!” He shrugged, side-stepping my stick for a moment.

“Why you do it?”

“You know your teammate, Erika Harper?” He only nodded in affirmation. “Remember all the drama that started with her playing in the NHL?”

“Of course. Is little sister to us. To me.” He smiled, thinking about his teammate.

“That’s the reason.”

“Where you go after Olympics?”

“I’ve signed with Avangard, in the KHL.”

“You come to NHL soon?”

“Hell if I know. Maybe I don’t want this life. Maybe I’d rather play in peace.”

“I try both. Hockey better here, believe or not.”

“I doubt that.”

Laich, I didn’t recognize. Semin, it didn’t hit me until about halfway through the anthem. This was Alexander Semin, the man who had pissed me off, insulted me, treated me like shit, and then acted as if nothing was wrong. But the thing was, is that I didn’t feel angry anymore. The dull pang in my chest left a lump in my throat, as all the anger I would have felt towards the Russian, decimated. It was as if the news about my mother blocked everything else out. Green was just another name on the ice. The music ended, and we began to skate around for a moment, loosening back up, before we began the first period.

~

Suprisingly enough, I didn’t go up against Harper once. Every time my skates hit the ice running, it was against Washington’s fourth line, with Johansson, who was a tough firecracker. Nick, who only patted my shoulder, had ignored me otherwise throughout the game, but it was understandable. His captain was on the rampage, and any anger he could deflect off himself, the better.

Ryan switched off with Sean for a moment, since he was without a helmet, temporarily adjusting our line, as we went up against Mike Green. Simon deked around him, slapping the puck to me. I was only a few feet away from Neuvirth, who turned out to be a great netminder, but I didn’t have a shot. I looked over to Green, who was charging in our direction, before snapping it over to Sean, whose wrist shot lodged it in Neuvirth’s five hole. It was actually kind of pretty.

He held his hands up, as I tapped his helmet with my glove, excited by the goal. But that’s all it felt like. The normal adrenaline rushing through my body wasn’t there. It felt as if I was watching this all take place, but that’s it. Looking over to the Washington goalie, he looked really dejected, as he stood back up, taking a swig out of his Gatorade bottle. I skated over to him, resting my hand on his shoulder. “You were great. Keep it up.”

He didn’t look over at me, until I skated back to the face-off circle, since it wasn’t time for a shift change yet. I was aware of the feeling of netminders, when they go home, taking all the blame for a loss, or even one goal. The others can say all day long, “not your fault.”, but you can’t tell them that. It’s personal.

“Trovato!” I slowed at the voice, thick with a Russian accent, before turning to face the Krasnoyarsk-native. Alex Semin’s face was void of anything, leaving my job of figuring out his intentions even harder.

“What?”

“You lied to me.” I exhaled, honestly glad it was nothing more than that. Not sure what else it could be, or what could be worse, but I shrugged.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you play in league? Why didn’t you tell me you Trovato? I spent hours figuring you out, yet answer right in front of me. How you lie to team?” His eyebrows were raised slightly, as a look of both anger and disbelief swept across his face. “I talk to you, and you cut me out. You just let me talk about Trovato, and say nothing. You lie to me.”

Sighing, I rubbed my neck, feeling really awkward. “Honestly, Semin, you mean nothing to me, so I don’t care if I lied to you or not. It’s none of your business where I play. If you turned on your TV, you might see something. Telling you anything is not my concern. You want the truth? I deleted your number, and your jersey is in a box, under my bed. I can’t stand you, your attitude, or how you play. I didn’t tell you, because despite you hating my very existence, you weren’t mad at Trovato, and god dammit, at the time, you were a friend I could talk to.” He frowned, obviously not believed me. “I can see I was wrong.”

He shook his head, skating back to his bench, were he was immediately confronted by Harper, who I noticed had been watching us the entire time.

~

I winced, as the siren went off in the Verizon Center, indicating that Semin’s shot went in. I closed my eyes as my arms and stick rested on my knees, taking some of the pressure of my aching leg. It had started during the second period, out of the blue. “You good, Anna?”

I looked up to Simon Gagne, nodding. “It’s not a big deal. I took Tylenol during the intermission.” He patted the number 57 on my back, before leading me to the bench, signaling the end of our shift.

~

During the 1st period intermission, Neuvirth’s mask fucked up, and they put some AHL goalie in that the Caps called up in Semyon’s place. I would much rather tease Varly, but I guess that would just have to wait for another day.

I dropped back, helping Pavel get the puck away from Ovechkin, before snapping it up to Simon. He took it to the other end with Ryan, a few feet ahead of me. It would be a 2.5 on 2, considering I was a length behind them. I pushed harder, speeding up significantly. I tapped my stick on the ice, calling for the opening through Alzner, Hannan on Simon’s tail.

He shot his stick out, smacking Simon right in his face, as I turned to see Braden Holtby a moment too late, before we were sent crashing into the net, flying backwards into the boards. I groaned in pain, as I could feel his leg under my side, before standing up. Looking up, I could see Harper fuming, as he angrily skated in our direction. Glancing down at the young man, I awkwardly smiled, while trying to stand up to approach the furious Captain. “Sorry about that, sweetheart. Wasn’t really paying attention.”

I turned from him, meeting Harper half way. Might as well get it over with, eh? “Hey, you little fucking skank! How about you pick on someone your own damn size and leave my fucking goaltender alone huh?” The overbearing Captain roared in my face, shoving her stick across my chest. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Why don’t you stay in your own fucking business, Harper? You sleeping with him too?” I questioning, shoving the captain back as hard as she shoved me. I was fit to be tied. First, my mother, and then this. People just don’t know when to fucking mind their own business. Was this about my interview after the Bruins game? My God, who gives a fuck? It’s an opinion.

“The fuck do you know about me? What I’m going through? I bet your little fucking Flyers friends have told you all about me, haven’t they?” She shoved me again, obviously allowing her outside problems affect her game, like I previously had done. “Yeah, I know all about them. You’re not the only one who watches the NHL Network religiously.”

I pushed her back, honestly just wishing for her to shut her trap so we could go home. It was the first time in a long time I hadn’t the urge to fight someone back. One of the linesmen separated us, but not before she continued to spit words at me.

“Actually get your information right before you spew that crap to everyone, you bitch.” I smiled to myself softly, as I was led away to the box, where I watched Harper skate over to Holtby, sharing a few words as she helped him up.

~

In the shoot-out, Dominic missed to a save by Holtby, but that was the least of my concerns as Erika skated away from her successful shot at Roli. I clenched my teeth and fists in anger, as she taunted me. My mother taught me better, but I was still angry with the brunette in front of me.

I slid over the boards, taking my turn in the shoot-out. Holtby raised his eyebrows, when I let my thoughts take over. He deserved this. I began skating forward, snatching the puck, and taking the snap shot, one that was easily blockable, before heading back to my bench’s direction as the center raged around us. “THAT’S THE WAY WE DO IT IN WASHINGTON!” I saw her stick her tongue out at me, bringing a frown to my face. Is that really how you act? Maybe the title should go back to Ovechkin. At least he didn’t act like a fucking brat.

Semin jumped out, hitting his shoulder with mine, before I reached my door. I merely kept going, before taking my seat to watch him. He grasped the puck, but as soon as he did, you could tell he was off a little bit, his control too loose, before he sent the weak shot to Roli, almost nearly identical to the effort I showed against Braden Holtby.

Vinny stepped out, and I saw Harper face palm. “AAAAAAAAAAAAND its Vinny. Figures, it just figures. C’mon Braden..” She grasped one of her teammates hands in nervousness, and I grinned. It reminded me of watching my first hockey fight. I was so excited, yet scared, that I nearly “squeezed” my mother’s “hands right off”.

Vinny deked back and forth, and again, you could tell it was a mix between power and speed meeting halfway, meaning a pathetic shot. He got closer and closer to Holtby, loosing speed, before trying to knock it between the ice and Holtby’s left bad, but it was blocked, sending the Capitals onto the ice to congratulate Braden Holtby.

A small smile found its way onto my face, however temporary before the loss set in, as he smiled, hugging his teammates. It was worth it.

~

I grumbled to myself lowly as I threw my jersey onto the bench, before trying to wrench off my reeking pads. I can’t believe I missed to that AHL call-up. Yeah, the happy was definitely wearing off It didn’t help that Alex Semin was grating on my last nerve. Ever since he approaching me, it was a constant 'hip check' that defying all checking laws.

Unlacing and pulling my skates off, I hung them in my stall, followed by my helmet and pants. I ripped the tape off, sliding my socks and guards off. Grabbing the pair of shorts out of my equipment bag, I pulled them on, feeling much better to only be in my underarmour and the blue fabric of the shorts. “Simon.” I teased, sticking my tongue out at the man who sat next to me, who was getting ready to pull his Lightning Hockey shirt on.

“Fine, but next time, I get to wear your bra.” I snickered, before pulling his shirt on, and tossing him one of my spare bras. He looked at it, before wrapping it around his head, securing it under his chin. “Better?”

I looked over at the ex-Flyer, and nodded in approval. “Much better.” Marty walked by, and ripped the green material off of Gagne’s head, and throwing it into Ryan’s bag, which was in his empty stall on my left. I grabbed my hair band out of my hair, and re-put up the nightmare that was tangling itself, giving me a new task in the morning.

“4, 10, 12, 35, 57, 91 are media.” I slumped into my stall as Boucher shouted out amoung us, before the reporters invaded our space. I snatched my phone up off the shelf quickly, before resuming my position, and reading the new text messages that awaited my attention.



I felt a lump rise in my throat after reading Sergei’s text. His broken English was making me melt, it was so adorable. I began my responses before I could be bombarded with questions. Telling Eric I’d call Tanya when I got home, informing my father of my receipt of his message, confirming our schedule with Marian, teasing Loui, and thanking Sergei, mentioning my intentions of calling him once I got home also, I closed my phone as I was approached by a few people. Why I can't I be at home already?

“Miss Trovato, may we have a few moments?” I nodded to the man, fiddling with a string that pulled out of the hem of my linemate’s shirt. “Tonight, it seemed the Lightning was playing very sloppily, but also that Erika Harper made it known that the Lightning weren’t welcome in Washington. What do you think about this?”

I gulped, thinking about my response. “We were only reacting to what we were given. Erika Harper’s words and actions were uncalled for tonight. There is a certain level of sportsmanship that every player silently and mutually agrees to, and she passed all bounds of that. I understand territory. I have no problem with her point in that aspect. I just wish the child would learn to temper her tongue.”

“Your performance in the first half of the game wasn’t as on as it has been in the past. Care to offer us any insight into that?” I turned to the snarky woman beside me, offering her a small smile.

“I received a little bit of bad news this morning, and I let it affect my game. After the second period, I thought about the game, and decided that it was long over-due, putting my head back in the game. It comes first.”

“What kind of bad news?”

“Family news. That’s all I really wish to share on the matter. It’s been a long night.”

“Alright. In the shoot-out, Moore, you, and Vincent all missed to the AHL Hershey goalie that Washington called up recently.” I smiled, honestly trying to show how I felt about the subject.

“When I first walked into this locker room, I hated that man with every moral fiber of my being, but you know what? He’s a great guy, and a superb netminder. I’m proud that he has those skills, and uses them. He had a shot, no pun intended, at shining tonight, and he did so. He may not be on my team, but I am proud of him.” I let the smile stay on my face, allowing me to internally relax, the negative feelings and emotions leaving my thought process.

“How will you feel once you get home and everything, after having a chance to relax, review the game, and the loss soak in, like it does for so many others?” I felt my smile unwaver, as I turned to the elderly gentleman with a sad smile on his face. Hockey players and their losses.

“I’ll just be fine.”

Fuck my life.