Allentown
gone girl
December, 2015
It was an early morning practice. Outside, the snow was falling, covering the cold Pennsylvanian ground with a thick white cloth. Sidney Crosby’s thoughts were racing through his head as he kept his eyes on the road, trying to stay focused on driving his car. Even though he had to leave his warm home, the young captain was impatient to step on the ice.
Sidney was never complaining. In fact, as a leader of the Penguins, he considered himself the person who was supposed to be tough, despite the hits he would take. A beating heart of the team, the light to guide each one of his teammates throughout the darkest times and moments of disappointment. But lately, Sid found himself repeating those lines every single day. He thought about his valuable responsibilities – while he was running, or making some coffee - and he realized that he had an inevitable weight on his shoulders.
Being drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins was one of the greatest moments of Crosby’s life. After a period of two years playing for the organization, he was selected officially as the new team captain. When Sidney tried to recall all these memories, winning the Stanley Cup was sometimes just a blur to him. There were days during which he would wake up and question his success; opening his eyes and tossing in the bed for a while, Sidney wondered if all of his dreams really came true.
In the beginning of his career, captaincy seemed appealing to him. Sidney admitted that he had pictured himself as the team leader and it was an honor for him to fulfill his duties. The guys were great; all of them looked up to him, counting on his advises and decisions. But with the start of the new season, the captain began to have doubts in his ability to unite the Penguins.
Sunk within his thoughts, Sidney didn’t notice that he had already reached the parking lot. A knock on the Range Rover’s window grabbed his attention instantly. Sid looked up as his hands continued to grip the wheel tightly. Under the falling rays of the rising sun, he managed to recognize Kris Letang.
“Bon matin,” the French Canadian greeted the captain with a charming smile. Sidney felt relieved and his tensed shoulders relaxed; he was glad that it was Tanger who pulled him away from his soaring mind.
“Good morning,” Sid replied in English and got out of his car.
After a brief conversation with Letang, Crosby found himself already in the locker-room, sitting on a bench. His cogitation kept bothering him; everything was happening so fast and this made Sidney feel like a cartoon character, based in the short animated movies that he used to watch all the time when he was a kid.
His teammates were talking about something – just some irrational stuff- which usually occurred daily in their lives. In the distant corner of the room, Sidney could hear Carl Hagelin desperately trying to explain to Evgeni Malkin something fairly important. On the opposite side of the room, Beau Bennett and Nick Bonino were discussing a different topic. Closing his eyes, the captain felt like he was standing in the middle of a hurricane of voices. He needed to be alone, but he couldn’t escape from his responsibilities.
Sidney had almost his full uniform on; the last article of his equipment was his jersey. His strong hands were holding the fabric and his tired hazel eyes were gazing lifelessly at it. The letter “C” was engraved on the right side of the piece of clothing. As he was putting the jersey on, Sidney felt a thousand times heavier; everyone would know the fate of the Pittsburgh Penguins was in Crosby’s hands.
Although he would never confess in front of anyone, leadership felt like a burden he was unable to stop thinking about. Raised as a hockey player, this sport had consumed Sid’s entire life; his universe revolved around it. And he just wanted to be normal – to get a dog, to get drunk and get fired from his plain boring job, to spend his evenings watching hockey at some bar. But he was Sidney Crosby and he would never let down those people who relied on him.
Sidney!
Taken off guard, Sid turned around immediately. He heard a familiar voice reaching out for him. The captain kept looking in each direction of the blank space surrounding him, but he saw no one. His teammates were busy with their routine which made Sidney feel trapped within his own guilt; the world was spinning and no one noticed he was suffering. This came as no surprise; this injury wasn’t physical – it was his feelings that were devastated and this didn’t matter.
“Anna, I am so sorry,” he whispered quietly to himself, breathing harshly. She wasn’t there – his consciousness was playing tricks on him. Sidney headed towards the arena and kept going, but his heart ached inside of his chest; something was off but he couldn’t tell what exactly.
They had drifted apart; and he was so accustomed to her - so much that Anna’s absence left a bittersweet sensation. After two wonderful years with his girlfriend – Anna (Banana) – Sidney Crosby had to ask him himself if he still loved her, or it was just an old habit of belonging together.
As he kept skating forward, he saw the head coach – Mike Johnston – talking to two men, dressed up with suits and black coats. Sidney slowed down his peace and saw Mike waving his hands at him; it was another sign for Sidney that something was really off.
“Mr. Crosby, we would like you to come with us. There are a couple of questions we are willing to ask,” the taller one spoke first and his hand went inside of the pocket of his coat; before Sidney was able to ask for any explanation, the man flashed an FBI badge.
“What’s going on?” Sid’s heart started beating ten times faster and the adrenaline was a fuel for a rapidly arriving anxiety; the captain could almost sense his hands starting to tremble.
“I am agent Ramirez,” the taller one introduced himself, then pointed to his partner; “and this is agent Stevenson. We are investigating the disappearance of Anna O’Conner.”
It was an early morning practice. Outside, the snow was falling, covering the cold Pennsylvanian ground with a thick white cloth. Sidney Crosby’s thoughts were racing through his head as he kept his eyes on the road, trying to stay focused on driving his car. Even though he had to leave his warm home, the young captain was impatient to step on the ice.
Sidney was never complaining. In fact, as a leader of the Penguins, he considered himself the person who was supposed to be tough, despite the hits he would take. A beating heart of the team, the light to guide each one of his teammates throughout the darkest times and moments of disappointment. But lately, Sid found himself repeating those lines every single day. He thought about his valuable responsibilities – while he was running, or making some coffee - and he realized that he had an inevitable weight on his shoulders.
Being drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins was one of the greatest moments of Crosby’s life. After a period of two years playing for the organization, he was selected officially as the new team captain. When Sidney tried to recall all these memories, winning the Stanley Cup was sometimes just a blur to him. There were days during which he would wake up and question his success; opening his eyes and tossing in the bed for a while, Sidney wondered if all of his dreams really came true.
In the beginning of his career, captaincy seemed appealing to him. Sidney admitted that he had pictured himself as the team leader and it was an honor for him to fulfill his duties. The guys were great; all of them looked up to him, counting on his advises and decisions. But with the start of the new season, the captain began to have doubts in his ability to unite the Penguins.
Sunk within his thoughts, Sidney didn’t notice that he had already reached the parking lot. A knock on the Range Rover’s window grabbed his attention instantly. Sid looked up as his hands continued to grip the wheel tightly. Under the falling rays of the rising sun, he managed to recognize Kris Letang.
“Bon matin,” the French Canadian greeted the captain with a charming smile. Sidney felt relieved and his tensed shoulders relaxed; he was glad that it was Tanger who pulled him away from his soaring mind.
“Good morning,” Sid replied in English and got out of his car.
After a brief conversation with Letang, Crosby found himself already in the locker-room, sitting on a bench. His cogitation kept bothering him; everything was happening so fast and this made Sidney feel like a cartoon character, based in the short animated movies that he used to watch all the time when he was a kid.
His teammates were talking about something – just some irrational stuff- which usually occurred daily in their lives. In the distant corner of the room, Sidney could hear Carl Hagelin desperately trying to explain to Evgeni Malkin something fairly important. On the opposite side of the room, Beau Bennett and Nick Bonino were discussing a different topic. Closing his eyes, the captain felt like he was standing in the middle of a hurricane of voices. He needed to be alone, but he couldn’t escape from his responsibilities.
Sidney had almost his full uniform on; the last article of his equipment was his jersey. His strong hands were holding the fabric and his tired hazel eyes were gazing lifelessly at it. The letter “C” was engraved on the right side of the piece of clothing. As he was putting the jersey on, Sidney felt a thousand times heavier; everyone would know the fate of the Pittsburgh Penguins was in Crosby’s hands.
Although he would never confess in front of anyone, leadership felt like a burden he was unable to stop thinking about. Raised as a hockey player, this sport had consumed Sid’s entire life; his universe revolved around it. And he just wanted to be normal – to get a dog, to get drunk and get fired from his plain boring job, to spend his evenings watching hockey at some bar. But he was Sidney Crosby and he would never let down those people who relied on him.
Sidney!
Taken off guard, Sid turned around immediately. He heard a familiar voice reaching out for him. The captain kept looking in each direction of the blank space surrounding him, but he saw no one. His teammates were busy with their routine which made Sidney feel trapped within his own guilt; the world was spinning and no one noticed he was suffering. This came as no surprise; this injury wasn’t physical – it was his feelings that were devastated and this didn’t matter.
“Anna, I am so sorry,” he whispered quietly to himself, breathing harshly. She wasn’t there – his consciousness was playing tricks on him. Sidney headed towards the arena and kept going, but his heart ached inside of his chest; something was off but he couldn’t tell what exactly.
They had drifted apart; and he was so accustomed to her - so much that Anna’s absence left a bittersweet sensation. After two wonderful years with his girlfriend – Anna (Banana) – Sidney Crosby had to ask him himself if he still loved her, or it was just an old habit of belonging together.
As he kept skating forward, he saw the head coach – Mike Johnston – talking to two men, dressed up with suits and black coats. Sidney slowed down his peace and saw Mike waving his hands at him; it was another sign for Sidney that something was really off.
“Mr. Crosby, we would like you to come with us. There are a couple of questions we are willing to ask,” the taller one spoke first and his hand went inside of the pocket of his coat; before Sidney was able to ask for any explanation, the man flashed an FBI badge.
“What’s going on?” Sid’s heart started beating ten times faster and the adrenaline was a fuel for a rapidly arriving anxiety; the captain could almost sense his hands starting to tremble.
“I am agent Ramirez,” the taller one introduced himself, then pointed to his partner; “and this is agent Stevenson. We are investigating the disappearance of Anna O’Conner.”