Chapter 6
Quentin
The life of an NHL player was grueling, with an intense schedule and very few breaks, especially during the season. The regular NHL season ran from October to April, and then the Crawford Cup Playoffs went from April to June. During the regular season, teams played eighty-two games, forty-one at home and forty-two away. During the season, Quentin and his team spent much of their lives on airplanes and in hotels, hopping all around the United States and Canada to play the other teams in the league. Quentin loved the fast pace of the lifestyle, though it could often be exhausting.
Before the regular season, teams played exhibition games against each other to test out rosters, shake off the summer cobwebs, and get a glimpse of how the season might go. Quentin enjoyed the exhibition games, as they often felt rawer and messier to him, pure play without the high pressure and the more intense discipline of the games in the regular season or in the playoffs.
Boston had already played several exhibition games, and they were headed out of town for their last away exhibition game. They would have one more at home before the regular season started.
They were playing the Buffalo Polar Bears for this game, a team known for its aggression and hard play. The team was physical and intense, and the matchups between Boston and Buffalo were often brutal games. Boston had more finesse on the ice, and Buffalo had more strength, and they were always enjoyable games to play and for the fans to watch.
Quentin was looking forward to this game, especially because the new captain of the Buffalo Polar Bears was an old frenemy of his, Jansen Nylstrom, whom Quentin had played with during college in Colorado. They had joined the league at the same time and were often compared to each other because of their overlapping backgrounds, but they had very different styles on the ice and very different styles of leadership. Jansen had been the captain of their college team and had led through force and often fear. He got results, but at the cost of his team often disliking him. Jansen had maintained that same reputation in the NHL as an aggressive, abrasive player. He rarely lost a face-off, but he often lost his temper.
The Minutemen took an evening flight from Boston to Buffalo, the night before the game. Quentin sat with Henri on the flight, as he almost always did. Quentin watched a movie (Transformers,a masterpiece of cinema) while Henri read a novel in French, and they didn’t talk much during the flight, except when they hit some turbulence, and Henri briefly wondered if they were about to die.
They didn’t die, for which they were both grateful, and they landed without incident in Buffalo.
A charter bus took them from the Buffalo airport to their hotel, an average sort of hotel often used by traveling NHL teams. The players had free time that evening, and Quentin liked to use his pre-game free time to get in a good headspace for the game.
He was sharing a room with Henri and took the bed closer to the door. Henri said he was going for a walk.
“Though the urban sprawl of the States willalwaysdisappoint me,” he said disapprovingly, looking out the hotel’s window at the wasteland of parking lots and shopping centers.
“You’re from Canada!” Quentin called after him. “That’s basically the United States!”
Henri, deeply offended, flipped Quentin off over his shoulder.
Quentin liked to meditate the night before a game. He sat cross-legged on his bed and turned off his phone. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Whenever a thought threatened to enter his head, he let it pass through without bothering it. Soon, his mind was clear and empty. All that he saw in his mind’s eye was a blank, dark expanse. He stayed in that state for a long time, his heart rate low and his breathing steady. Gradually, he began to pull himself out of the meditative state and began to mentally envision different parts of the game. He imagined the puck drop and the different plays they had practiced. He could almost feel the chill of the arena’s air against his face and the sweat clinging to his body under his uniform.
He came out of the meditative state and opened his eyes. He felt ready for the game and whatever it would bring.
The next day, they had a short free skate session at the Buffalo Polar Bears’ arena, where they warmed up and ran some drills. Coach Bodganovic and the rest of the training and coaching staff were watching the team closely, as there were still some roster spots to be sorted out. Quentin kept an eye on his team as he played. They were ready for another season, and many of them were hungry for another win. They’d lost the Cup in the final round last year to the Chicago Architects, and they were eager to gain it back. Quentin was especially eager. Drew Moreau, after informing Quentin that he’d fallen in love with someone after Quentin had ended things with him, had been traded from Boston to Chicago. Chicago had ended up beating Boston in the Crawford Cup Final last year, and Quentin was still sore about that loss. Chicago was a great team, but Boston, in Quentin’s opinion, was better. They could’ve won, and maybe should’ve won. This year, theywouldwin.
Two hours before the game, they returned to the arena, this time with all players dressed up nicely in suits. There was some media attention at the game, but not as much as they’d receive when they hit the regular season.
All the players had different routines before the game; some reviewed film from previous games and practices, and some met with trainers or got massages on sore muscles. Quentin liked to re-tape his stick and listen to music, finding that meditative state again from the night before.
Henri’s changing stall was next to Quentin’s, and he sat beside him on the bench, half-dressed in his gear for the game.
“Hey,” Quentin said. “Been meaning to ask you, do you want to go with me to Joel Beckett’s concert in Boston next week? His team sent me three tickets as an apology for, you know, getting punched in the face.”
Henri looked up in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah! I was thinking you, me, and Cort could go together.”
“I’d love that,” Henri said, “and I think Cort would, too. He has ahugecrush on Joel Beckett.”
Quentin paused while tying his skates. “Really? Is Joel gay? I didn’t know that.”
Henri clapped a hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “Let me tell you a secret about crushes, Q. Someone doesn’t need to like you back, or even beableto like you back, for you to have a crush on them.” He smiled. “I have no idea if Joel Beckett is gay, or bi, or queer, or anything, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hot. Have youseenhis music videos? He’s always shirtless. Andwhata body he has.”
Quentin appreciated how comfortable Henri was with talking about his sexuality and about his attraction to both men and women. Quentin knew Henri would be a good person to tell about his own uncertain sexuality, but he wasn’t ready for that conversation.
“I’ve seen a few of his music videos,” Quentin said, not wanting to admit that he’d binged the entire visual album forNorthern Sunrecently, and found it stunning and moving.
“Well, we’d love to join you for the concert. Thanks for the invite.”
Quentin was proud of how his team played that night. They beat Buffalo by one point, and it was a close game the entire time. Buffalo, true to form, played a physical game, intense and borderline violent at times. There were a few fights on the ice, and Quentin had to break one of them up. He narrowly avoided getting an elbow to the nose, which would’ve sent his doctor into a tizzy. But they won, in the end, and it was satisfying to see Jansen Nylstrom, the blonde captain of the Polar Bears, throw his stick in disgust.
