The man has the aura of a champion. It’s no surprise people recognize him even though he’s no longer scoring goals.
He straightens up. “You got me.”
The brunette’s eyes widen. She places a hand against her chest and gasps. “My husband and three older boys are your biggest fans. The hubby cried when you retired.Cried.But he was beaming with pride when the NHL retired your number. You’d think he was related to you.” She laughs.
“It was a big day for me,” he says. “The highlight of my career.”
“My little muffin wants to follow in your footsteps.” She tugs on her son’s hand. “Don’t you, Timmy?”
“I’m going to be number twenty-three.” The boy’s eyes light up. “Or twenty-one, or twenty-four, or?—”
His mother puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Close to your number,” the little boy, who can’t be older than five says, with a determined nod. “When I grows up, I wants to be big and tall like you. And I wanna be strong.” He lets out a menacing grunt with accompanying superhero pose. “And I want all the hockey players to be afraid of me—like you—’cause I’m gonna be thebestestplayer in all of the world.”
It’s good to dream big, Timmy.
“Bestplayer in the world, honey,” his mother says.
Timmy punches the air with a tiny fist.
“I have no doubt I’m in the presence of a future Stanley Cup winner,” Kaz says.
“Yep.” Timmy nods. “I’m gonna wins lots, and lots, and lots, and lots of Stanley Cups.”
“I’m going to win a lot.”
“That’s what I said.”
His mother’s attempt at correcting him falls on deaf ears.
I suppress a laugh. This kid is adorable.
“And I’m going to win the Olympics. All the Olympics.”
Timmy has a bright future ahead of him.
The woman shifts her attention away from her son. “I don’t want to sound predictable, but would you mind if I asked for an autograph?”
“Not at all,” Kaz says.
The woman rummages through her handbag and pulls out an envelope and a pen. “I’m sorry. This is all I have.” She hands them to Kaz. “I didn’t know I was going to bump into a hockey legend.”
“That’s fine.” He scribbles his name with a flourish and hands her back the paper and pen.
“You made my day.” She takes the items from him. “Heck, you made my year.” She slides them in her handbag. “Do you mind if I ask for a selfie?”
“Sure,” Kaz says.
“Let me.” I hobble over on my skates, walking not unlike a penguin, and extend a hand.
The woman smiles. “You don’t mind?”
“It would be a pleasure.”
She whips out her phone from the pocket of her jeans.
“Your girlfriend is the prettiest girl ever.” Timmy points at me before peering up at Kaz.
