Heart of Man

~Anna Trovato~

I felt a yawn on the brink of my body, as I slid on my skates, from my position on the benches. I had about an hour on the ice, before others started arriving around six.

Allowing my fingers to grasp the laces that bound the equipment to my body, I twisted the rough material through. My left had hurt through the night, and continued to ache profusely. However, it had to be better by tomorrow, or I’d probably be scratched from the rest of the games.

I don’t know why, but only Geno, Val, Semyon, and the doctors know that it was decently bad. They even told my coach I was good to go, leaving the decision of sitting out or playing, up to me. Thanks for the responsibility.

I fixed the waistband of my shorts, shivering slightly at the temperature change slightly, as the cool, nippy air blew through the center. I was burning up physically, yet I was cold. Makes perfect sense.

I pulled the sleeves of the Finland underarmour down, hoping to warm my arms up, as I stepped slowly towards the bench exit to the ice, keeping my attention on the goal posts.

Sliding onto the ice and away from the boards, I pushed off with my right foot, allowing my left limb to relax slowly, and get back into the hang of things. Nearly to the net, I began pressing slightly with my left, propelling my body forward, when I felt the joint begin to buckle, under the pressure.

I pushed my right leg back, practically resting all of my weight on the top of the metal post that I had scored the pervious few nights.

Relieving the pressure off of my leg momentarily, I bent down, steadying myself, as I began to slowly rub the tender muscle.

Looking down to the white bandages that were wrapped around my thigh, I could see a pink tinge to them, obviously revealing the fact that the wound was opening.

Inhaling deeply, I reapplied the pressure to the limb, and straightened my posture, evenly distributing my weight between both legs.

Fog formed from the exhaled carbon dioxide, as I began small strides towards the first red in the drill I had become so familiar with.

~

I picked myself up off of the ice, shoving all of my weight on my left leg. If I couldn’t make it heal faster, I’d make it last longer. 60 minutes isn’t that bad, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have to play the entire game against Czech. I had no desire to play against Jagr. I’d be useless playing defense, and even worse on the front lines.

But it was my luck that this would happen. Hopefully my mother wouldn’t catch wind of it. I prayed that my mother and father were off on business, and too busy to turn the television on.

I came within feet of the opposite, now sacred posts, gripping onto it for dear life, as my leg began to feel numb and slide again, before the intrusion began.

“You know, if you want to play so bad, you have to be careful. Don’t do it at once; ease into it.”

I snapped my attention, hoping to hide my face, up to the benches, where a not-so-familiar face skated their way over to me.

The boy, holding an American accent, extended his hand to me, in which I took thankfully.

“Anna Trovato, right?” I looked over to him, when my steadied my leg again, before he nodded his head over to the benches.

Making our way over to the player area, I looked over to the boy. His hair was still wet, looking darker than it probably did, being freshly washed, and an USA practice uniform.

He looked over to me, and smiled, when I stepped through the boards, collapsing on the bench next to him. I nodded to his question, cueing him to continue.

“Zach Parise. We met in ’02.”

~

“Fuck! Wait for me!” I laughed, as I raced the American boy I had long forgotten, around the ice.

“No way, Anna Banana!” He grinned, allowing me to nearly catch up, before speeding up, his infectious laughter hitting me.

“Why does everyone feel the need to call me a banana?” I smiled, before cutting across in front of the net. I caught up with him and turned back in to center, spraying him with ice.

“Because it’s adorable, and you need at least one redeeming factor!” Zach playfully mocked. “How is your leg? Doing any better?”

I smirked, nodding. He really had a few tricks up his sleeve, and I was really thankful for it.

I had met Zach Parise during 2002, at Worlds, with Val and a few others. I really couldn’t believe that I had forgotten him; oh, we were nutcases, two peas in a pod, when it came to being mischievous.

I felt a laugh escape, which I covered my mouth, much to his amusement, which fell a little for a moment.

“I saw it at the game, but they didn’t release the information.” I nodded in solemn understanding, and confirmation.

“Yeah.”

~

“Are you kidding me? Why would you do that?”

I knew it was stupid, but it was both what Mr. Bettman and Corin, my agent, recommended.

“I was told that is was to get me back used to the game, and then move back to the NHL. I’m not really complaining, sweetheart, and you shouldn’t be either. I don’t want to waste my time in the minor leagues. If I’m going to do that, I’ll just go back home and play in the leagues over there, and they can kiss my ass.” I shrugged, as Zach threw my (now empty) water bottle at me.

“Well, you better stay in contact, at least. I’ll come get you from the airport.” He nodded, allowing me to take his (full) water bottle out of his bag, and drain it nearly dry.

“The team is not near near New Jersey, darling.” I smiled, as I put it back, unnoticed still. Rubbing my other hand on the back of my neck, I felt the need to stretch out, and get the pressure off of some of the joints in my body, that were becoming increasingly irritated.

“I don’t really care. It could be Vancouver for all I care, and I’ll still drive you! Okay, well, we’ll fly, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” He smiled, before reaching into his bag for his water bottle.

“I suppose. Who knows, maybe I signed with New Jersey!” I stuck my tongue out, as he opened the lid to his bottle, holding it upside down over his face, only for nothing to come out, except for several choice words from his mouth.

“Dammit, Anna!”

I chuckled, before bending down to put my skates in my bag, along with the rest of what I brought with me. Czech was due in 10 minutes, and we couldn’t afford to be here when they got here.

“Well, Miss Trovato, may I ask you to dinner tonight?”

I gave him a pointed look. “Me? Go out to dinner with a disgusting, sweaty hockey player? I’d love to.”

~

Zach scooted to my side of the booth at the French restaurant we had sabotaged, both of us enjoyed our second glass of wine, to unwind from the day’s events.

“I think Belarus, Germany, Czech, and Norway will win tomorrow, and I’m willing to put money on that one.” Zach nudged, a sideways smirk on his face, as I sipped the selected wine of the evening.

“I guess that leaves Swissy, Canada, Latvia, and Slovakia for me. Choices I can’t complain about.”

He looked at me, completely bewildered, his jaw slack. “Swissy?”

I giggled, pushing his jaw closed. “Yeah. Reminds me of Swiss Cheese. Loved that shit as a kid.”

~Alexander Semin~

I couldn’t believe my luck. She had to have been fucking with my head. I had planned to meet Ilya and have dinner with him to catch up, only to walk past this small (French?) restaurant, and saw her fucking face at a table, laughing it up with one of the USA guys.

“Zach Parise?” I jumped back, feeling my heart rate increase, as Ilya stood next to me, obviously trying to see what was taking so long.

“Da.” I looked to him, as he pulled out his phone, to type what looked like a text message.

A small little tune that sounded familiar played somewhere in the restaurant and I looked up, to see Anna watching us, as Zach read the message.

Ilya nudged me, seeing the message he sent.



I was flabbergasted. “Ilya..”

He held his hand up to silence my words, before reading her response, and leaning it towards me.



~Anna Trovato~

I sighed in the ‘Parise’ jersey I was wearing, my counterpart wearing my jersey in exchange, as we sat through the ending of the Slovakia/Norway game. They had won 4-3, and I had won 2 out of 4 teams bet, meaning neither of us won, which sort of sucked.

“Alright, Anna, I have to get going. I have practice tomorrow morning before Finland, so I need to head on out. Take care, okay? Want my cell?” He kissed my forehead, as he pulled out his cell, switching the one in my hand, with his.

I kept quiet, keeping the small smile on my face, as I entered my number in his cell. I went to exit out of the little Blackberry contact list, to see a black background. Lame.

I looked over to Zach, to see him still fiddling with my phone. I grinned, turning on the camera of his phone, and pulled my lips in, and widened my eyes, looking over, as I took the picture. I quickly set it as his background, before standing up and walking behind him.

I pulled his back jean pocket open, and slipped his phone in, and resumed my seat, grinning like crazy, while I waited for my phone back.

“Here. Man, that’s complicated. I’ve never seen a Blackberry like that.” He whined, that cute, boyish smile on his face, still, as even more people began to clear out.

“I’m not sure, either. My mother gave it to me to use, so I’m going to assume it’s one of the Europe prototypes. As long as it works, I honestly don’t care.” I stuck out my tongue, before pushing him slightly towards the stairs.

~Alexander Semin~

I had heard the Russian-Italian and Finn were practicing again from Kovalchuk, and so far, they had yet to see me at the entrance to the tunnel.

Not that I was honestly complaining.

“Dammit, Val, hold on. Moma’s calling. I’ll be right back.”

I looked up, to see Anna skating towards the bench, grabbing her vibrating phone, before making her way to the tunnel. I looked around, seeing the corner of the hallway, and stepped into it, hoping she wouldn’t catch me eavesdropping on her.

“Moma?” She paused, and I could hear a female’s voice on the other end.

“Yes, Moma, I am fine. It was nothing serious, I promise.” What happened?

“Yeah, I talked to Anatoly this morning.” Anatoly?

“Mom. He says for you to call him that, not Mr. Bardin. He doesn’t care, okay?” Anatoly Bardin. I had heard that name before.

“If we make it, are you going to come watch?” Watch what? Her boyfriend play the Gold Medal Game?

“Yes. I understand.” Denied.

I heard a huff of air. “I’ll speak with him.” She paused. “Father?”

“Yes, all is well.” Uh. I doubt that.

“It was nothing. I slipped. Dammit, Dad, leave it alone! I’m fine! Before you know it, I’ll be back home with you guys.” Homesick?

“I don’t care about that. It’s in Russia anyways, so I don’t have to come back here for a long time.” What’s in Russia?

“Don’t hold this over my head. This is what you wanted, and I am giving it to you.” What the hell are they talking about?

“It will work out just fine. Oh, tell me, why you and Mom are both speaking English. Of all those years of you pretending you sucked at the language.” So she is Italian?

“Very funny. May I speak to Moma?” Dry humour. Great.

“Ti amo, Moma. I’ll see you soon.” Yep. Italian.

I heard a small beep, and fading footsteps, before listening to the crunch of ice under the metal blades. Indication she had left.

I waited a few moments, before sliding back out into the main hall, onto to come face to face with Valtteri Filppula.

“Let’s take a walk, Semin.”

~Alexander Ovechkin~

I cleared my throat, trying to gain the female’s attention on the ice. Her eyes darted over to me, as she changed speed and direction, over to my position against the post.

“What do I owe this honour, Alex Ovechkin?” I narrowed my eyes, reciting my argument in my head back to me, repetitiously.

“I know who you are.” She looked at me with a blank face, before erupting into fits of laughter, gripping her abdomen.

It was all I could do, not to crack a smile at the younger female. After a few moments, she caught her breath, before standing back up to fix her hair in its band. She was in what looked like the pants part of the short pants NHLers wear, and long-sleeved red underarmour. She and Filppula were obviously working on speed and skill.

“Oh, really? I’m Anna. No one special. I’m afraid you have the wrong person.” She grinned, her face calm.

I felt my insides start to burn. I had figured her out, and yet here she was, denying it to my face. “Anna Trovato. A. Trovato. I saw record form in office this morning. Found it all. Picture, copy of license, birth certificate.”

Her grin faltered a little bit. “And what do you plan to do with this information?”

I crossed my arms. I honestly had no problem with the girl; I just wanted to know why she lied to everyone. “I-..”

She cut me off. “I didn’t lie to anyone. I just didn’t flaunt my status.”

I nodded, understanding her point. “Sorry. I just want to know plans. I have female player friend, I care about. I want to make sure you go to safe, good team.”

She grimaced. “I can take care of myself, spasiba.”

I tensed slightly. I had forgotten she knew Russian. “Plans?”

~

I waited for Filppula to walk back to the ice, before I turned to Sasha, who did not look happy.

“I have solution for you. If I can’t show you Trovato, and you too stubborn to listen, you figure out for self. Here number. Do it for self.” I was furious with the way my teammate had treated the female I had become acquainted with. She wasn’t that bad, just a little testy. It was understandable, after she showed me the wound on her leg.

I slammed the paper into his hand, before making my way to Erika’s room, to find out where she put my phone.

~Alexander Semin~

I input the number into my phone, and began typing a message to the man whom I had yet to meet.



I was glad for spell check, honestly. However, I wasn’t glad that I had received a response so soon. I opened it up, as I made my way back to the seats, to watch the two practice.



Waiting for the elevator to take me back to the seat level, I wrote my response out.



I didn’t get a response from my cell, but one on the ice, as Anna came back out, and had already started her suicide drills.

I couldn’t deny it, she did skate like him. Their strides, turns, bodies, moved the same.

~

After some time had passed, I had felt my body begin to doze off, before I heard a grunt of pain, something hitting the ice hard, and a solemn string of curses.

“I am never going to get this shit down.”

I looked to the brunette’s position, and then to the thirty pucks, of which about 20 went in, yet 10 missed. Glancing back towards Anna, her pants around her thigh looked wet, as if she had dropped water on it.

I probably would have thought it was water, if I didn’t see the smaller puddles on the ice, in various other places, and the fingerprint marks left on the stick she slammed on the ice, before skating to the bench to grab her things and leave.

~Anna Trovato~

I groaned, as Nick continued to bash me, about Semin. I pulled the sleeves of my Parise jersey, the USA vs. Switzerland game nearly over, over my hands, keeping them warm, as I proceeded to ignore the Swede.

“Just give him a chance for me, please?”

“Yeah, uh huh. Sure.”

“Anna Trovato, listen to me.” I raised my eyebrows, looking at the people around us. Luckily for us, they seemed to be too wrapped up in the game.

“What?” I couldn’t believe we were doing this here.

“You are all he thinks about. Well, Trovato-wise. He’s desperate to find Trovato, and tell him what a bitch you’ve been to him, and that you are “cheating” on him, for Val, or whatever. He wants to know who Trovato is, since he hasn’t been able to play you. He wants answers, and I can’t keep dancing around them as if I don’t know anything. Give him some credit, he’s trying.”

I bit my lip, nodding. Whatever. “Okay.”

~

I grumbled in my seat, as the Russia/Canada game commenced. I kept my eyes on every player, except #28. His jersey alone was burning through my soul. It felt like it. It was warm though, so no harm, no foul.

“Thank you for listening to me.” I poked Nick in the shoulder, giving him my silent response. Maybe I had been too harsh...

~Evgeni Malkin~

I tapped Ilya on the arm with my stick, grabbing his attention while the refs decided the penalties.

“Da?” He looked at me confused. I just smiled, nodding my head to a particular section, to the brunette standing up, arguing with some girl with a Crosby jersey on. The brunette had Semin’s name on the back of it, and there was no mistaking the Swede next to her, who was hiding his face in laughter, when he saw us looking.

Ilya howled with laughter, before skating off to the side, where my friend sat next to the ice, with Backstrom. I joined in his laughter, as we stopped short of the boards, Ilya and I watching the yelling.

“You better shut the fuck up! If you knew they game, you’d be out there!”

“Oh, yeah? I don’t you see you out there like Harper, either. So why don’t you go crawling back home, and leave the hockey players to my friends and I.”

I looked to Kovalchuk, who looked about ready to die. Anna hadn’t seen us yet, but there was no mistaking it was her. Or the jersey she was wearing.

“You’re just mad because your team is losing! They deserved that penalty!”

“Excuse me, Bitch. It was against Canada, and it wasn’t a severe punishment for a near illegal hit. So shove that hot dog down your throat like you are used to, shut the fuck up, sit down, and enjoy the game.” I smirked, as the blonde looked stupidly at the brunette in front of us, who just turned and sat down, glaring at Nick. “Thanks for the support, ex-friend.”

Ilya grabbed my sleeve, pulling me away before Anna could leave her teasing of Nick, to notice us there.

~Alexander Semin~

“Износ чертовски Джерси, Саша.” (Wear the fucking jersey, Sasha.) Malkin threw the jersey in my face AGAIN.

“No.” I threw it back at him.

“Tpobato носили ваши Джерси на сегодняшнюю игру. Евгений, и я даже поймал его защитить вас от некоторых сумасшедший человек. Трудно было не заметить.” (Trovato wore your jersey at the game today. Evgeni and I even caught him defending you against some crazy person. It was hard to miss.)

I looked at the older man, shrugging my shoulders. I didn’t really care. Trovato and I had been conversing, but he never replied with anything more than a few words, that sounded forced. I had considered calling him, but I didn’t know how he felt about phone calls, or if he could even speak English well. Maybe he knew Russian...

“Just put it on, Sasha.” I sighed, snatching the jersey from Nick, and pulling it over my head, before slumping back into my seat.

We had lost against Canada, 3 to 7, so most of us were pretty pissed off about it. But I guess this was their way of coping. I personally just wanted to go out and drink for a bit.

“Is Trovato playing, Sasha?” I looked to Nick, who interrupted my morbid thoughts.

“I didn’t ask.” Nick looked to Ilya.

“I sit here?” I grinned, nodding to my regular Captain, who took a sit on my other side.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, we present tonight’s third Quarter Final match, here at the UBC Thunderbird Arena. The puck will drop at approximately 7:00 PM, where the Czech Republic and Finland will battle for the slot in the Semi-Finals against the United States, in two days, at 12:00 PM, at the Canada Hockey Place.” The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, as the jumbotron up top began playing the updates for both Czech and Finland.

“You know, Mike, Czech’s been strong throughout this all. Wins against Slovakia, Latvia, and a loss against Russia in the Prelims. Another win against Latvia yesterday only continues to show how they’ve been doing this year. Finland’s been pulling through with some spectacular scores, despite their entire team being made of up of generally older players, save three or four. Wins against Belarus and Germany, and a loss to Sweden in the Prelims, their only shut out against Germany automatically moved them to the Quarter Finals, giving them the day off during the Qualifications.”

“A lot of potential here tonight in Canada, James. Group B, the Czech Republic, has players from the NHL, CZE, and KHL, each at the top of their game. Players such as Pavelec, Kaberle, Michalek, Krejci, Plekanec, and Jagr are bound to make the game very interesting tonight.”

“Mike, I can’t help but wonder how Finland has been doing. They have a few younger players on their team. How do you think they’ve been handling this task at hand? If they win tonight, they go to the Semi-Finals. Otherwise, they go home.”

“It’s a lot of pressure for them. Older members too. Looking at tonight’s roster, the Finnish Coach and Doctor did not announce the status of forward A. Trovato, due to his injury in the Sweden vs. Finland game three days ago.”

Semyon, whom I failed to notice show up, roared with laughter, along with Geno and Nick, at that statement.

“Sami Lepisto and Valtteri Filppula, both 27, are two of the three youngest members of the 2010 Finland Olympic Team. Both NHLers here in North America, everyone is familiar with them. However, Finland’s youngest member is only 23 years old, and is the youngest player to make the National Team roster.”

“Something I’ve noticed, Michael, is that Trovato has no league experience, yet I have failed to see that. He’s been putting hits on guys, shooting goals, and helping with the shutout a few nights ago. If I hadn’t of known otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. The European style is obvious, but he has exceeded my expectations so far. I am more worried about his injury, though reports were mentioned this morning that Trovato was back on the ice, and healing fine, though no further mention of tonight has been made.”

“James, I was looked at Trovato’s record. 3 years at the World Juniors, Captain at the age of 17. 4 years of Worlds U18, Captain at 17 and 18 years old. Worlds U20, he was named Alternate Captain. Two years at Worlds, Alternate for those as well. I did a little bit of digging, and Trovato made the Italian national team at the age of 15.”

“How is he playing for Finland, though?”

“His mother is Finnish, his father Italian. He has citizenship in both countries, and chose to play for Finland, when he was given the opportunity, as I heard from his coach during an interview.”

“What has he been doing this past year, then? He obviously isn’t playing league hockey.”

“Who knows? Cooped up in Finland somewhere, training. But it is indeed showing. The shaft of his stick went through his pants, and it seemed to have punctured his leg, but he got up and continued walking.”

“A lucky shot. Along with Trovato, we have Niklas Backstrom, Lasse Kukkonen, Joni Pikanen, Sami Salo, Kimmo Timonen, both Mikko and Saku Koivu, the latter holding the title of Captain, Jere Lehtinin, Jarkko and Tuomo Ruuto, and Teemu Selanne. What a match-up, James.”

“Do they have what it takes to match up to Jaromir Jagr? He’s been on a role this entire event, and he doesn’t seem to be ready to call it quits now.”

“With Jagr pulling up the right wing position, it’s up to Filppula, or possibly Trovato to shut him down. Otherwise, I don’t think Finland will be going on. They have skill, so let’s hope their teamwork tonight will be enough to get them through.”

The jumbotron cut off, and not even moments later, the fools behind me continued to crack up.

“Oh, man. This is some funny stuff.” I fwaped Nick in the shoulder, earning a glare, before the lights dimmed, and the robotic lights began lightning up the arena.

“And now, we present, from the center tunnel, the Czech Republic and Finland, in the third match of the Quarter Finals, at the 2010 Winter Olympics!”

The lights began to focus on the center tunnel, as both teams mixed together, sliding to their respective sides as they breached the rink barrier. I looked through, looking for #57, though it was hard to see, between the light blue uniforms of Finland, and the start contrast of the red Czech uniforms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” I looked to Nick, who was focused on the entrance.

Trovato was standing in front of the ice, stick in hand, head bowed, Valtteri Filppula in front of him, currently on the ice, waiting for his teammate to step up.

Trovato looked around slightly, before I saw his chest expand, and then decrease, obviously trying to calm his nerves, as he pushed out onto the ice with his team.

The jumbotron flickered back on, with more from “Mike” and “James”.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise, ladies and gentlemen,” The screen flickered to Trovato skating around, shooting pucks into the net past Backstrom, and high-fiving Saku Koivu. “It seems that Trovato has been put back on the roster, and will be playing Left Winger tonight, facing up against Jaromir Jagr. It seems that Valtteri Filppula will not be on the first line tonight, probably to make up for Hagman going back to take Lepisto’s spot, who was scratched from tonight’s game. He has been placed on the second line. This definitely makes it interesting. Every game, Trovato and Filppula have played on the same line, and tonight, it looks like Finland Head Coach Jukka Jalonen is taking a risk. Trovato, Koivu, and Teemu Selanne will take first line tonight, folks.”

I looked over to Nick, and then to Malkin. They shared the same expressions.