Title: She Shoots, Goaltender Scores?
Author: Bluehaven4220
Disclaimer: Me own Vanessa. Me no own ANYTHING else, you no sue. You having a very clear grasping of this concept, yes?
Summary: Vanessa Brooks had never gotten along well. With anyone. Period. That is, until the 1980 Olympic tryouts and the day she met Jim Craig. With two men competing for her affections will she give in?
Reviews: I LOVE REVIEWS. Reviews make me VERY happy.
Now, Vanessa was a tough girl, and there was one thing she could never stay away from. Hockey. Her dad coached while she played. He didn't ask any stupid questions and in turn she didn't bother him while he coached. It was as simple as that.
She'd come home one night to find he'd gotten a job as the Olympic Team's coach for the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid, New York. She'd sat with him for hours as he reviewed slide after slide of each player he was considering. She'd stay quiet, except to acknowledge the occasional glance he'd throw her way.
It wasn't until he viewed a slide of one particular goaltender that she really started paying attention.
"Who's that, Herb?" That was another thing. He wasn't 'Dad' to her. He was Herb, just like her step mother was Patti, and that's all it would ever amount to.
"Jim Craig," he answered, jotting down a note for future reference. "Why?"
"Hmmm," she shrugged, "I dunno, he's kinda cute."
"Nessa!" Herb was indignant.
"Oh shut up!" she laughed, not seeing the problem. "I'm nineteen, I'm in college… I'm not your little girl anymore; no matter how much you'd like to think differently."
Herb just scoffed and turned back to his slides. "What's this for, anyway?" she asked.
"Selection camp…" he answered as he scribbled another note.
"Can I try out?"
Herb looked at his 19 year old in surprise. It was there… he could see the fire in her eyes as it was the first time she'd ever laced up her skates.
"Alright," he gave up. "But just because you're the coach's daughter doesn't mean you'll be getting any special treatment."
"Herb…" she walked in front of him and blocked his view of the projector. "Look at me." He wouldn't. "I mean it, look at me." Still nothing. "I'm serious, look at me." Finally he relented. "I'm 19 years old, I wear size 8 jeans, and I run around playing hockey all day and muck out stalls on a fucking horse farm all night! I come home smelling like horse shit and honestly wouldn't care if someone decided they were gonna look at my ass in a dressing room." She scowled at him. "In short, Herb, I don't want any special treatment. I just wanna play hockey!" And with that she turned and started toward her bedroom.
"Be ready for 6:00am tomorrow!" Herb shouted after her.
"What's your name?" she was asked as the photographer snapped her picture, causing her temporary blindness.
"Vanessa Brooks," she answered as she rubbed her eye in hopes of regaining her sight.
"Hi Vanessa," they answered as they handed her her dressing room assignment. When she got there, she noticed everyone else was in one dressing room while she was in another, simply because she was a woman. Shrugging, she pushed open the door to the almost full dressing room, found herself a spot, and proceeded to get changed.
It was then she noticed several pairs of eyes sizing her up and checking her out.
"See something you like, gentlemen?" she asked as she pulled off her regular bra and swapped it for her sports bra. "What? Not like anything you haven't seen before."
She noticed the goaltender sitting next to her staring.
"Easy big guy," she chided. "Wait till later."
Suddenly she heard a voice from the other side of the room. "Hey, it's my sister from another mother!"
She turned around.
"Robbie!" she ran at him and jumped into his arms. "Hey!" she kissed him hard. "Missed ya, ya big lummox!"
"Lummox? Hey, them's fightin' words!" he kissed her back, followed by catcalls and cheers from the rest of the players in the room.
"Shut up!" Vanessa jumped down and finished getting her gear on. "He's my brother from another mother, didn't cha hear?" she strapped on her helmet and tapped her stick on the wall. "Let's play some hockey!"
"The net! Go to the net!" she was very well aware of what her father was looking for in a team, even if she didn't appreciate the fact that was her father. For all it was worth she could handle all that he could hurl at her. After all, she was used to putting up with his shit.
Later in the day, as the lot of them sat in the stands, her dad's assistant coach, Craig Patrick, read out the names to be considered.
"Hughes, Ross, Auge, Delich, Horsch, Strobel, Christoff, Morrow, Suter, Ramsey, Janaszak, Christian, Pavelich, Verchota, Baker, Harrington, Schneider, O'Callahan, McClanahan, Silk, Johnson, Craig, Brooks, Cox, Eruzione. And that's the roster for now. The rest of you thanks for coming out."
"Take a good look, people," she heard as Herb walked down the steps, just as those whose names hadn't been called left. "Because they're the ones getting off easy. I'm Herb Brooks, I'll be your coach, I won't be your friend. You want one of those, take it up with Coach Patrick, Doc, or your pillow, I don't care which."
Damn it, Herb, what the hell you got up your sleeve? She thought as she noticed something in Craig's hand.
"Damn it!" she voiced aloud, startling everyone sitting around her.
"What?" she asked, getting up and leaving the arena. She knew damn well what was in Craig's hand, and she had no intention of touching it. Already in her street clothes, she got into her car and drove to work. After checking in with her supervisor, she grabbed her pitchfork and shovels and opened an empty stall.
"Mmmmm, fun!" she heard a voice behind her. She turned around, shovel in mid lift, and saw none other than Jimmy Craig in street clothes.
"What do you want?" she scowled, turning her back and throwing the waste into the wheelbarrow and maneuvering it out toward the compost pile. She noticed Jimmy following her close behind. "Sorry, I don't open my legs for people I've just met." Sarcasm dripping for her voice.
"Ya think that's what this is about?" Jimmy followed her back into the barn. "I saw you leave the arena, and I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"I'm fine," she insisted, slamming the stall door in his face.
Jim Craig was not one to back down, not even from the coach's daughter. Tough as she was, he wasn't intimidated. He pushed the stall door open and backed her into a corner.
"I don't believe for one second that you're "fine""he snapped at her. "I don't care that your dad's the coach, I don't care that you're the big tough girl everyone makes you out to be… I'm not lettin' you outta this stall until you tell me exactly what the hell is goin' on with you!"
"What, suddenly I'm so important you gotta know everything that's goin' on with me?" she ducked out from under his arm and proceeded to scoop up more waste and dump it into the wheelbarrow.
"If I gotta work with you for next seven months, I may as well get to know you."
"Well, right now, I don't want to get to know you," Vanessa turned and continued cleaning.
"Hey, uh, how you been doin' since your mom died?" He saw her stop. He'd touched a nerve, and he knew it. She set the wheelbarrow down so it would balance properly.
"How in God's name do you know about that?" she asked, staring at him and ripping the skin off a callous.
"For God's sake, it was all over the hockey community," he answered, stepping closer to her. "Not every day you hear Herb Brooks' ex-wife died in a bad accident."
"Yeah, thanks," she turned away, biting down on her lip so hard she swore she tasted blood, in a futile attempt to keep the tears from falling.
"And, I just wanted to let you know… I know exactly how you feel."
"How the fuck would you know exactly what I'm feeling?" she shouted, turning to him, showing him the tears in her eyes. "How could you possibly know?"
"Because my mother died three months ago!" he answered, harsher than he intended. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he reached out to touch her shoulder. "Come on, I'll get'cha a cup of coffee."
The two of them walked off the ranch and to the nearest coffee shop. They took it to go and went back to the dorm. She opened the door to the dorm and sat on his bed with him.
"So…" she took a sip of her coffee. It tasted like sludge. "How'd it happen?"
"I… don't really know, actually. Went into the hospital one night, saw my dad, said she'd died. Didn't tell me how." Jimmy downed his coffee. "How 'bout you?"
"I was at home, don't remember what I was doin', probably making dinner, cause she was never home in time. So I get a call from the hospital. They say she was dying. I drove to the hospital… they…" she could feel the tears. "They told me she was too injured and that she wouldn't make it…" she drank another sip of coffee in an attempt to calm herself. "I held her hand when they took her off the machines…"
Jimmy held her hand in reassurance.
"It was weird; because, at her funeral…" she bit back tears, "I swear I kept thinkin' she was gonna walk through that door…" Finally, she couldn't hold it back any longer. "What did I do wrong?" she wailed, not meaning to, "was I that horrible? Did she want to get away from me that badly?"
"Hey," Jimmy took the coffee from her and set both Styrofoam cups on the nightstand. "Nessa, you didn't do anything wrong…" Finally, he was able to get close enough to hug her, "you don't have to be strong all the time. It is not your fault she died."
And that's how they sat. Just holding each other, alone in their grief. At least it was that way until she heard her father arguing with, of all people, Walter Bush, at the end of the hall. She let go of Jimmy, whispered an "I'll be right back,", and opened the door.
She approached the two men only to hear snippets of the entire conversation.
"Do you have any idea how much the AHA went through to put this thing together? The best players on the ice for a week! Not a day, a week! And you've already chosen your team!"
"I know what I need to compete, Walter," Herb answered, calm as ever.
"And you've got Vanessa on your roster, Herb! You know damn well you can't have a woman on a men's hockey team! Especially in the Olympics, that's unethical! Puts the team at a huge disadvantage."
Herb stepped closer to Walter, staring him down. "She's a hell of a hockey player, Walter. And I'll be damned if I go to Lake Placid without giving her a fair chance."
"Alright, but if this backfires, it's on your…" he didn't even finish his sentence before Herb shoved the folder into his chest and stalked off.
She ran right into her dad on her way down the hall. "Hey…"
"Hey…"
"I heard…" she told him. "If it's gonna get you into a shitload of trouble with the AHA I can just take a job behind the bench."
Herb scoffed. "Nessa, you earned that spot…" he put a hand on her shoulder. "Just because you're a woman doesn't mean you're not entitled to a fair shot." He gripped her shoulder in reassurance. "Just get some sleep; you all have a long day tomorrow." He turned and walked the same way Walter had gone not 5 minutes before.
She nodded, opened her dorm room door, and shut it behind her.
The next morning, she arrived at the rink and stepped on the ice with the rest of the Olympic hopefuls. As they ran through a particular drill she knew Herb was fond of, she heard a SMACK and a CRASH.
"Tell your boy to keep his head up and then he won't have to worry so much," she heard a voice so grating on the senses she thought she was gonna skate over to him and slash his eye with her skate blade.
"Let's go!" Soon a fight was in full swing. She saw Herb letting them go at each other until she'd finally had enough. She pushed herself between the two of them and separated all parties involved.
"You two look like a couple of monkeys trying to hump a football!" she shouted, her arm wrapped around Robbie McClanahan's neck. "If you wanna settle old scores there's a broom closet in the dressing room, do it in there!" She could hear herself echoing throughout the empty arena. "Do it again and I swear I'll castrate you and make you watch as the zamboni runs 'em over! You got me?"
She let go of Robbie and moved out of the way to let Herb through.
"So, children, now that we've all calmed down," Herb leaned on his stick. "Why don't we start with some introductions…" he was met with silence. "Who you are, where you're from, go on." He turned to Vanessa. "Let's start with you, what's your name?"
"Vanessa Brooks."
"Where're you from?"
"St. Paul, Minnesota."
"Who do you play for?"
Vanessa stared at him for a moment, expressionless. "Not for you."
Herb glared at her and turned to another player. "How about you?"
"Rob McClanahan. St. Paul, Minnesota."
"Who do you play for?"
"For you, here at the U."
"Over here," he pointed to another player.
"Jack O'Callahan. Charlestown, Mass." Again, that voice. Now she could put a face and name to that voice. He was making eyes at her. "Boston University."
"Over here…"
"Uh…" the young man answered. "I'm Ralph Cox. I'm from wherever's not gonna get me hit."
Laughter.
After another hour, they were finally permitted to get off the ice, but Vanessa stayed, shooting pucks at an empty net. That was, until one Jimmy Craig decided to take his net back from her.
"Uh uh, Jimmy. My net!" she aimed a slap shot at him. Lucky for him he stopped it.
"Ah fuck that!" Jimmy yelled as she again shot the puck.
Suddenly someone else got on to the ice. Damn it, Jack O'Callahan. She looked over her shoulder and glared at him. He skated over to her and shot at Jimmy.
"Touch me and I'll fuck you over so hard you'll wish you'd never been born."
"Funny, I thought you saved that for Jimmy here!" he answered, "not that I would refuse the offer."
Oh that was it! She dropped her gloves. She flew at him and knocked him to the ice. It wasn't until she got that first satisfying punch at his nose did she feel Jimmy's strong arms pull her off of him.
"Fuck, girl, you fucking broke my nose!" he swore as he got up and held his nose in a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood.
"Go home and cry to your mother, you pansy!" she shouted. She turned to Jimmy, who had taken off his face mask and looked her straight in the face.
"God, you're beautiful."
"In your dreams, Boston boy," she smirked as she gripped her stick and went back to shoot at his net again.
She scored.
"Hey Nessa!" she heard behind her. Herb… perfect. Precisely what she needed! Her dad chewing her out!
"What?" she turned around to face his wrath.
"You broke O'Callahan's nose?" he was again indignant.
"Yep."
"What in the bloody hell for?"
"Hmmm… lemme think." She pondered sarcastically. "You know, the next time he offers to get on top of me, I might consider it."
With that, she went into the dressing room, got changed, and walked out to her car.
"Fuck you, Herb!" she whispered as she started her engine.
What do you think? Continue? Should I make it a competition between Jimmy Craig and Jack O'Callahan for Vanessa? I promise Vanessa is not a Mary-Sue (in the typical fashion). She's not any more beautiful than the average girl, she's not a brainiac, she's just a normal 19 year old. Let me know that you think.