Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

When Becka woke up and was ready for the day we went out for lunch, before showing my uncle around the city. I took him for a tour through the CONSOL Center, showed him some of the highlights in the city, before we went to the Sullivan’s at about five o’clock.

As per usual I got about two feet in the door before being mauled by the kids. Steve and Shelly were always embarrassed by the way the kids were glued to me, but to be honest I loved it. I’d always loved kids, and the Sullivan’s were no different – they were like the little siblings I’d never had.

“Hey guys; come on in. Britt, how many times do I have to tell you Cam is not a jungle gym?” Steve sighed, and reluctantly she stuck her feet out so I could gently place her on the floor. She pouted at her father, making sure she had a firm grip on my hand as we all walked into the living room.

“Shelly, do you want a hand?” I asked, getting up and poking my head into the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine! You go and visit,” she ushered, nearly pushing me out the door. The kids had the Wii set up, and soon had Steve, Becka, Uncle Rob and I all playing with them. It was cause for some extreme laughter, and the kids were all loving every second of it.

About two minutes after my “boxing match” with Britt ended the doorbell, rang. Steve went to get it, and just as I’d guessed returned moments later, Jordan following along behind him. He’d put on a nice button-up shirt and what looked to be a hardly-worn pair of jeans; the dark wash still looking crisp as he said hello to everyone before sitting down in the easy chair that sat next to Steve’s.

“Hey Jord,” I nodded, smiling at him. He seemed to visibly relax then, which I was glad for. It was weird seeing him nervous over something like this; Jordan didn’t do nervous.
“Hey Cam; how are you?”

“Good, except I just lost three boxing matches in a row,” I huffed, much to the delight of the kids. Soon they had Jordan roped into playing too, giving me a break from their antics. It shocked me how well Jordan handled them, and after he finally sat down he gave me a sheepish grin.

“I love kids; Tanya always jokes that I’ll steal Parker away if I had the chance,” he admitted, surprising me. I knew he was good with kids, but I’d figured he was one of those guys who was good with kids without really wanting to be. I guess the family aspect ran just as deep as the hockey did in the Staals.

“That’s crazy – I don’t know if you could handle the little guy, he’s too much like your brother,” I teased, making him laugh.

“If you can believe it he’s more like Tanya, he just looks like a clone of my brother,” he told us, and Steve laughed.

“Thank God, I don’t think Tanya could survive with two Eric’s,” he laughed, making Becka snort.

“Well you never know, Levi could be a mini Eric,” I warned him, making Jordan laugh too.

“Jared said he’s quite the character already, just like Parker was as a baby,”

“How is Jared doing?” I asked, and Jordan shrugged.

“Pretty good I guess, he’s getting more playing time now, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be seeing a call-up too soon,” he sighed, obviously disappointed for his little brother. It was hard on all four of them, that Jared hadn’t seen any NHL time yet. Jared took it the worst, obviously, but Jordan was constantly worrying about him too, and after meeting Marc and speaking to Eric I knew they were no different.

“Don’t sound so put-out, he’ll get there,” I assured him.

“I know. I just hope for his sake it’s sooner than later. I just worry sometimes that he’ll get so caught up in not being as good as he thinks he should be that he’ll end up making himself hate hockey and just quit. He never gives himself enough credit,” it was probably to do with the fact that he was the youngest of four; he’d been playing catch-up all his life.

“I don’t think anything could make him hate hockey; he lives, breathes, sleeps and thinks hockey twenty-four seven,” I reminded him. Jordan sighed, nodding, before shrugging his shoulder.

“I just worry about him sometimes. I mean, most of the time he’s great; when we talk he sounds fine. But then after a bad game or if he’s sat a couple in a row and I talk to him… it’s a little scary. He gets so down and disappointed with himself…” Jordan trailed off, leaving us to think the worst. “Eric had to go down and talk to him a couple of times; the coach had phoned and said Jared was working himself sick.”

I knew how that cycle worked. Not long after I’d started playing Junior A hockey I’d done the same thing. You begin working twice as hard, and practicing or working out every spare moment you have. Your body can’t handle it and begins to shut down on you, and while you’re desperately wanting results you see a decrease in ability. That makes you angrier and more desperate and so you push yourself harder; it’s a vicious and painful circle.

“Oh no,” Jordan nodded.

“Yeah, it was hard. Mom and dad went and stayed with him for about a week or so just to keep an eye on him,” he mumbled, and I knew he wanted to change the subject.

“I know how hard that is; Cam did the same thing after playing for a couple of years,” Uncle Rob nodded sympathetically, and I grimaced, wishing he’d kept that to himself as I had. Jordan’s eyes widened, as did Steve’s, as I blushed.

“It was stupid of me, and I know that. I was just feeling like I was ten miles behind and I constantly had to prove myself and it was really hard. I know exactly how Jared’s feeling,” I said quietly, praying that dinner was ready so this conversation could end. The kids had stopped playing the Wii at the mention of me, and stared at me in shock.

“Don’t worry; I learned my lesson,” I assured them all, feeling stupid now and Becka pulled me into a quick hug.

“I never knew that,” she whispered, sounding a little hurt.

“I didn’t exactly broadcast it,” I allowed, “I didn’t want anybody to know I wasn’t feeling good enough, that I felt like I didn’t belong on that team with how far behind I was. I wanted everyone to think everything was fine.”

I managed to raise my eyes and saw the pained look in Jordan’s blue ones. I managed a weak half-smile for him, but his expression remained the same. Why my uncle thought now was a good time to mention that I would never know.

“Cam, you know if there’s ever anything going on like that you can come talk to me, right?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, I know Steve. Don’t worry, like I said; I learned my lesson, and I know that all it did was hurt me rather than help me. I won’t be doing that again any time soon,” I reassured him, and he looked a little relieved. Suddenly all four of the Sullivan kids had catapulted themselves at me; crawling all over me in their form of a ‘group hug’.

“Thanks guys,” I chuckled, trying to wrap my arms around all of them. Now if only the rest of the world was as welcoming as the Penguins team and the Sullivan family was, there would be a lot less problems in the world.

“Never, EVER do that again!” Mike told me, and I nodded.

“Yes sir; won’t happen again,” I told him, making him smile as he hugged me again.

“You’re the best hockey player ever,” he whispered, making me smile.

“That’s not true,” I argued, but he shook his head.

“Nope. You’re my favorite; you’re better than Crosby,” he told me, making me laugh out loud. That was a first.

“Thanks bud,” I told him, hugging him tightly once more, and soon the other three were pushing and shoving for the attention and all insisting that I was their favorite player.

“What about your poor dad over there? Isn’t he your guys’ favorite player?” I asked, and they all thought on it for a second before Brit wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder.

“You’re still my favorite hockey player,” she firmly assured me, making all of us burst out laughing. Steve raised his eyebrows, and a moment or two later I caught on to what he was insinuating, now knowing why everybody else was laughing so much harder than I was.

“Aww thanks Brit,” I chuckled, and moments later Shelly announced that dinner was ready. As usual the kids were vying for the spot beside me, and Mike even complained when Jordan took a seat on my left.

“Sorry bud,” was his sheepish reply, although he didn’t make a move to go find another seat. Mike pouted a little, before his mother caught his eye and he immediately changed his attitude.

Dinner was a ton of fun; the conversation never stopped or lulled, and after we’d all eaten we moved back to the living room, everyone content to just sit back and let the amazing food digest. When I checked my phone and saw it was eight thirty I sighed, not wanting to leave.

“Cam, is it time to head out?” Uncle Rob asked, and I nodded, not happy with the fact that he had to leave already.

“Yeah, it’s eight thirty,” I grumped, much to his entertainment.

“It’s okay kiddo, it’s not like you’re never gonna see me again,” he teased, ruffling my hair and then pulling me into a hug. We said goodbye to the Sullivan’s and Jordan, before the three of us got into my car and went to the airport. After he’d got his baggage organized and we were just outside of customs I pulled him into a tight hug; wishing he could’ve at least stayed the weekend.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” he murmured, my face buried against my uncle’s chest. After a long minute we pulled apart, and after he said goodbye to Becka he disappeared into the crowd of people departing. Becka put her arms around me and we stood there hugging for a minute or so, before she tugged on my hand, reminding me that standing here dejectedly in the middle of the airport wasn’t going to help anything.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, but she shook her head.

“No, I get it Cam, don’t worry about it,” she assured me. I hadn’t went home for Christmas because I’d only had two days off, and my mom had wanted to go to Vancouver to spend it with some other family, so I really couldn’t go. Instead Becka and I had sat at home together, with our little Christmas tree in the living room and opened our gifts to each other before going over to the Sullivan’s and having Christmas dinner with them. It wasn’t a bad Christmas by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t the same.

“Yeah,” we made the trip back to our apartment in silence, and as soon as we got back all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.

“Night Cam,” I heard Becka call from her bedroom to mine.

“Night Becka,” I replied, before pulling the blankets over my head. I knew it was more than just Uncle Rob heading back home that was wearing down on me; I really wished he hadn’t brought that up at Sullivan’s. Not when it was still a pretty fresh wound. It had only been two years ago that I’d been in a bit of a depression, and this had only sunk me deeper into it. It had taken my dad threatening to move me home and never letting me play hockey again if that’s what it did to me.

When I finally broke down and told him about how I was feeling he understood – and instead helped me watch tapes, get my ‘diet’ back into some sense of order where I was getting the nutrients that I needed, and had a friend of his make me an exercise regime that I still did religiously. Religiously as in exactly what his friend had told me, with a few upped reps or weights here and there as he’d suggested when I’d called to ask him about it after plateauing. But I’d never let myself slump so low that I couldn’t get back on my feet again, because depression was scary; never before had I felt so worthless that I didn’t have any desire to live if I couldn’t attain the unbelievable goals I’d set.

I heard Becka talking, and assumed she’d phoned her mom or somebody, so put my iPod on to block out the noise. Not ten minutes later I saw the light in my room change as the door opened, and wondered what the hell was going on. I pulled my headphones out as the door closed again, and as soon as I felt the mattress dip realized who it was.