Author's Note: This is my continuation of the movie 'Miracle'. It takes place, roughly, about the year 1998. I promise it's worth the look into. I worked, gruelingly, to make this an acceptable piece of writing. I know this is probably quite a stretch from most things, but give this story a chance.
Title: Requires a Miracle
Summary: Miracles happen to those who believe in them.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the quotes, real people (obviously), or anything about the movie Miracle. I wrote this to be completely fictional.
-prologue-
July 10th, 1986
Mike Eruzione watched in utter disbelief as his youngest daughter, Sara, scored her very first goal against her brother, Josh, who was already the best hockey player at his age. Sara started to jump up and down, overly pleased with her performance against her invincible brother. She started to skate in a circle, laughing as the cold wind tickled her nose. Her father could only stare in awe. Not only had his first child been blessed with the talent to play hockey, but the same went for his daughter.
Stunned, he skated across the ice to where Sara was laughing. A smile was permanently stuck on his face as he bent over, and crushed her in a bear hug.
"Honey, where did you learn to play like that?"
Mike, being a part of the 1980 miracle team, knew that it just wasn't talent passed down through the generations of his family. Still, he couldn't even begin to fathom how Sara, a very girlie-girl, managed to advance at a sport that few women had ever succeeded in.
Instead of giving the answer that Mike had expected, she gave him the one that left him completely baffled.
"I watch lots of hockey."
Somehow, he knew there was a lot more to it than that, so he just let it slide- thinking that he had a very own miracle on his hand. As he skated off of the ice, Josh followed behind closely. He was complaining like a six-year-old would, and he kept on insisting that his sister had managed to cheat.
"Girls can't play hockey."
"Hockey isn't for girls."
However Josh phrased it, it only seemed to further upset his father.
"Josh, send your sister in as goalie, and you take your ten shots. After that, we'll go in for dinner. Understood?" Obediently, Josh nodded his head, and once he reached his sister- he started taking off his padding for Sara to wear.
"Let's see you block my shots," he fired, competitively, as he skated halfway from the net. Three pucks were sitting in a row. Taking the middle one, he started to glide towards the goal with one objective in mind: get the puck in no matter what. Once he was about five or so feet away, he took a slap shot and watched as the puck started to rise as it came closer to Sara. Next thing he knew, his sister was lying on the floor, crying, with a bloody forehead.
Mike ran towards his daughter, and managed to sooth her slightly. His eyes darkened as he looked over at his son.
"Joshua Eruzione, what have I told you about taking slap shots when the goalie isn't wearing a helmet!"
"No slap shots," he answered, barely above a whisper.
"Right, son. So, tell me why you would do such a careless thing."
"I was only trying to beat her," he yelled back, throwing his stick onto the ground. "I hate hockey. I never want to play again."
Chapter 1: Painstakingly Reality
March 1998
Sara Eruzione
My father and Josh were at it again. Josh was threatening that he was going to quit hockey (that's what he always said), and my father was telling him that he was selfish to waste his talent. Over the years, it had grown more than unbearable to deal with their constant arguments. Most of them always pertained to me, and Josh made sure that he'd rub it in my face every opportunity that dad wasn't around. Somehow, he still held a grudge against me for that day I made my very first goal, and also the day where I took a puck to the forehead. Dad had, from that day forward, been interested in training me from the next week (after I recovered from my injuries.)
Josh blamed me for my father's lack of interest in his hockey gear. If only he knew that I didn't admire the sport. Hell, hockey was just something that I was good at, and it wasn't something that I loved. Sure, there was always the thrill of making a goal or stopping a difficult shot, but there was always something missing. And I couldn't help but bring it up as dad and Josh started to bicker over hockey teams. It drove me up and down a wall that they ate, breathed, and slept hockey.
I, on the other hand, just wanted to get into photography, which was my passion from the very start.
"Honey?"
I broke out of my trance, and dropped the fork that I had been playing with. My mashed potatoes and peas were completely mixed, and I could only look on in disgust. I hated peas.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I mumbled, glancing over at my brother.
Josh was, as usual, writing down plays and formations into his beloved hockey notebook. Dinner always seemed to be his most inspirational time, but to be honest- it only annoyed me. For once, I could only hope that my dad and brother could have a simple dinner with me, but it always turned out into this huge hockey feud about what was the better position, and what was the number one thing a hockey player should always keep in mind.
"You haven't touched your dinner at all. Are you feeling well?"
Josh also took this moment to look me over, and I was taken back by the worry that reflected in his eyes.
I took a deep breath as I stared at the both of them. Keeping secrets was never something I was good at, but this secret was just killing my self-esteem. It was breaking me away from the only friend's I had ever know- the girl's high school team. My best friend, Liz, was the team captain, and it made me sick to my stomach that not even she knew the truth.
"I'm just bummed," I commented as I stared at my plate of food uneasily.
"About what?" Josh piped up.
I sighed.
"Hockey." There, I had said it. Surprisingly, I didn't feel any better. I only felt worse. If I told my biggest secret to two of the biggest hockey fanatics in the world- they'd hate me forever, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to be disowned by the only family I had.
"Josh, can you excuse Sara and I for a moment?"
He tried to protest, but he finally admitted defeat as he stomped all the way upstairs to his bedroom. Moments later, his door slammed shut, and I couldn't help but feel a million times worse.
"Sara, what is going on with you? For the past couple of months you've been unusually quiet, and you don't even bother hanging out with any of your teammates." He paused. "Wait. Are you and Elizabeth fighting again?"
I stiffened. My father would never address her as Liz for his own bizarre reasons. I just stared as he looked at me.
Finally, I shook my head.
"No dad. I'm bored of the same thing day after day. Nothing changes. I wake up at eight to go to practice. I come home at noon, and then I listen to you and Josh argue over more hockey stuff. Somehow, you manage to make me feel bad and I play more hockey for you. When that's over with, we come in for dinner. Josh writes down plays. You argue that they're foolish and not thought out. He argues that you're not open-minded. I sit here quietly and hope that I could fade away."
Honesty had never felt so bad. I had expected my father to lash out at me for making my own life boring, but I think that he realized how true it all was.
"If you're this upset, darling, why didn't you say anything?"
"I couldn't, dad. I'm just tired of living life like hockey is the only thing worth it out there." My words grew softer. "I loved hockey at first because it was so fresh, so new. Everything was so exciting because things were always different from day to day. The moment that I joined the school's hockey team- you set up this grueling schedule that revolved around hockey. It's suffocating me, dad."
Our heart-to-heart chat didn't seem to last long because his words had grown surprisingly cold. His expression was hardly unreadable, and I found it unbearable to even make eye contact with him.
"If that's how you feel, then you don't have to play hockey when you come home. I always thought you liked it and all…" The conversation had grown so awkward that fishing for the appropriate words was next to impossible.
"I do." I pursed my lips. "I just want to experience other things. I want to be in a club that has nothing to do with hockey, and I want friend's that don't even know what the sport is."
"If that's what you wish." His eyes drooped, and I saw that he was in deep thought. I knew that whatever he was going to say next was going to be painful. "I only hope that your mother could be here to see this," he whispered so softly that I wasn't even sure that I had heard him correctly. "She would be so proud of your perseverance, Sara."
At the mention of my mother's name, I had broken into tears. She had died ten minutes after I was born while she was still cradling me in her arms. Apparently there had been internal bleeding that the doctors never even knew was there…until it was too late.
"And if you're unsure about hockey, I would recommend taking a break. I'll tell Coach Jacobs that you're ill and unable to attend hockey practice for two weeks- doctors orders."
I broke out into a smile and ran to hug my father.
"But, in return for this, I want you to help Josh. He's having a lot of problems, and your insight would be greatly appreciated."
"Maybe I could offer suggestions." I shrugged. Josh wasn't willing to help, especially if it was my help.
"Ever since that game they were slaughtered 10-0, the boy has lost all confidence in his abilities. I asked one of my old teammates son's to help lead him in the right direction, but he won't arrive until at least noon tomorrow."
My heart started to thump in my chest. It was no surprise that my father was part of the miracle team, but the shocking thing was that he hardly kept in contact with his old teammates anymore. When they all went back to their hometowns, everyone began settling down to have a family. Unfortunately, contact was so rare these days that only a phone call or even two a year was a surprise. So, I was more than shocked to hear that someone from my dad's team was actually willing to ship over his son to help out with hockey.
"Which teammate?" seemed to be the only thing I could ask.
"Jack O'Callahan"
My entire world felt as if it had shifted from beneath me. Jack was the one that I had always thought was adorable (from the photographs in 1980). So, I could only imagine how good-looking his son was, and that was the part that scared me enough. My life had been so involved with hockey that I had hardly dated boys because they didn't appreciate my natural talent with sports.
"Wow. I haven't heard that name in years."
He could only nod his head. "His son is Josh's age, so do me a favor and try not to embarrass your brother too much, and if the rolls are reversed- don't take any crap from the two of them. You know how crazy boys are."
I smiled. "Yeah. Boys will be boys."
"So, since I have work tomorrow, would you mind being kind enough to pick him up at the airport?"
I could hardly breathe, and I could only imagine what would happen if I was the only person entertaining him on the rather long, boring drive back. So, I did the only thing I could. I agreed like the idiot that I am.
"Sure."
He smiled and ruffled my hair; he was about to walk off into the kitchen when I called his name.
"Dad!"
"Yeah?"
"Does Josh know about this arrangement?"
"Sort of," he answered back. "Your brother knows half of it. I've left your presence out, so that the two of you could hopefully break the ice and stop hating each other."
"I wish…" I mumbled. I was fatigued, confused, and intrigued at the same time. But I could only play the conversation with my dad over and over again in my head. It could have been his way to get me to like hockey, but nobody was going to be able to change that. I was going to have to see for myself what hockey truly meant and if it had any affect whatsoever on me.
Josh
It was predictable and nauseating for my father to send me off to my room as if I was three-years-old. To be quite honest, I was really interested in what Sara had to say about hockey. She had always been so wonderful at it that I never took a moment to think that it wasn't what made her happy. Okay, so I had eavesdropped on most of the conversation, but I was completely worried about her. Even though I pretended to be the world's worst brother, I still cared about her, and I think that that's something she doesn't want to accept, anymore.
Hockey was her gift. It never came easy for me. I worked ten times harder than she did just to produce the same results. I asked myself hundreds of times what it was that motivated me, but I could never find an answer. I was far too busy trying to decipher what pushed my sister to play. It bothered me so much because that girl had so much drive and ambition, but she had simply misplaced it all.
Although- I wasn't too thrilled to hear that she was 'going' to coach me along with Jack O' Callahan's blessed son. Perhaps I should have been pleased that such an amazing player was interested in helping me, but I honestly wanted to decline the help, the offer. Hockey was something I didn't need to be taught- my father did it flawlessly. It cut a deep wound into my chest to hear that he couldn't be the one to help me, but unfortunately he had a job to attend to, and money was one of our biggest concerns. You'd think that a man with such a reputation as Mike Eruzione- that he'd earn a little money or respect from all of his hard work, but the truth was he hardly got anything out of it. The moment that he found out that my mother was pregnant, (two days after the Olympic win) he refused to pull himself into the limelight. Instead, he became a good man and he married my mother shortly after.
The press and the NHL association were not impressed with his ignorance, (which wasn't the truth. He wasn't ignorant!) so they basically threw all of the limelight onto the other players. Soon my father was hardly even recognized. No one sent him fan mail. We didn't get weird phone calls from girls professing their undying love for him. He just fell off the face of the hockey world, and to imagine- he had dropped out of college just to have a life. In the end, he hardly got shit from anyone, and he had to pick up a full-time job. Now, with a mortgage and two kids to soon run through college- he was always working himself to the bone. It made me absolutely furious that he treated hockey like he did those many years ago. He argued that I wasn't using my head, and that it was important that I worked myself to the bone because natural talent was something I had, unfortunately lost.
Somehow, I managed to stumble through the kitchen without disturbing my father, who was reading a hockey magazine. Surprise. Surprise. It was a good thing too because I wasn't in the mood to argue with him at that very moment. Instead, I found Sara sprawled out on the sofa in the living room- indulging herself in a rather boring program on Discovery Channel.
"Hey."
I knew it wasn't the smoothest move to make, but I had to say something. I just needed for her to know that I overheard the whole conversation. Truthfully, I was so angry with her for not objecting. She knew that the two of us hardly got along for more than a few minutes. I was too hot-heated and she was the levelheaded one. We clashed so badly that the only thing we really scared in common was hockey, and for the life of me- I didn't want to lose that too.
Sara may not be my favorite person in the world, but she was wiser than most seventeen-year-olds that I knew.
"Hi," she mumbled back.
"I know," was the only thing I bothered to say as I joined her on the sofa.
She choked on the water that she had been drinking and turned to face me.
"How?"
She was absolutely livid.
"I overheard it." I shrugged. Okay, so maybe that had been a very poor move on my part.
"Ugh! You make me so angry. You're so stupid and nosey too!"
I hadn't expected any of her reactions, but I slipped back into my mean mode, my defense mechanism.
"I may be stupid and nosey, but I am both of these things for a good cause."
The war would rage, momentarily. Fighting was, somewhat, refreshing and neither of us knew how to back down.
Sara snorted.
"There's a lot more to it than that," she accused sarcastically.
"If that's what you choose to believe."
I could only shrug my shoulders at her comment. So, maybe she had reasons to treat me the way that she did, but I wasn't even trying to argue with her. I only wanted to talk, to see if she'd back out on her end of the deal. The last thing I needed my teammates to thing- was that my little sister was giving me hockey pointers. Wasn't it supposed to go the other way?
"It is."
The TV program seemed to be more than amusing because a minute later she asked why I was still standing there. Instead of starting yet another fight, I just started to walk away. Perhaps I'd have better luck talking to my dad about the circumstances, but I was just plain sick of fighting with everyone. On more than one occasion, I had been attempted to run far way. That plan, unfortunately, crumbled before I could even tune the fine details.
- - -
Dad was sitting in his office, watching the USA team he had been on in the 80's. It wasn't the infamous game where they triumphed over the Russians. No. It was one of their early games. He had always been fascinated with the game, and watching these repeats helped him to feel more like he was that young, college hockey player. His life was thriving when the United States was falling apart. It was funny how he enjoyed looking back on these things.
"Dad."
"Hmm?"
I knew that he was off in his little zone. Talking to him was going to be more than difficult. I didn't want to sound stupid or stubborn or maybe even mean for trying to get my sister out of this ground mess, but I knew it would strengthen our relationship because we were both getting something we wanted out of the situation.
"I want to talk about Sara and her…umm…coaching me."
For a moment, I had just figured that he had not heard what I said, but as I was about to repeat my statement- he started to talk.
"You know, the greatest coaches are the ones that push you the hardest and piss you off, but you end up loving them in the long run when it all pays off."
I wasn't quite sure what his statement had to do with Sara, but my father didn't ever say anything that didn't have a purpose. He was always the type of guy that couldn't just straight out tell you something. He had to make you figure out what he was saying.
"Actually, I was thinking that maybe you could completely give Sara a break from hockey. Her helping me won't be necessary. Besides, her heart isn't in the sport, and it's not fair to make her help me with something that doesn't make her happy."
"You're right, Josh. But you've seemed to completely overlook my intentions, son. This is the sort of thing that you can both benefit from."
It's weird how I had been thinking about the exact same thing only minutes earlier.
"I don't know, dad," I started wearily. "I think that Jack's son can handle it."
I didn't realize that I may have come off as a bit of an asshole, but my father was quick to pick up on what I had said.
"I think I know what your problem is…" He finally paused the game he had been intently studying. "You're embarrassed because Sara is a girl. It's obvious."
I was, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. In less than two minutes, he had figured out what was going on in my mind. I was slightly edgy from his statement, and I wanted to object so badly. There was a problem. I really didn't like to lie…for anything.
"I don't know." I ran a hand through my hair. "I just think that I'm capable of fixing my own mistakes."
He shook his head.
"If Coach Brooks heard you speaking like that, he'd immediately kick you off of the team."
"Wait. Wouldn't he have wanted for me to succeed?" I was confused.
"Sure, but not with an attitude like that. Do you think that you know every one of your hockey problems? Are you positive that you know how to go about correcting them? Are you sure you know how to be a team player?"
His accusations were more than I could stand, but I bit my tongue. No fights. I repeated it as if it was my only mantra.
"I'm sure," I answered smoothly.
"You have a bad attitude, son. I think that's the first thing you need to work on. So, you can't actually play hockey for a week."
My eyes narrowed at him. I had always hated his methods, the way that he pushed me. He acted as if he knew everything about hockey, but he didn't. I didn't like how he automatically knew what was best, and how he acted as if he was my coach.
"But how can I possibly get better at hockey if I don't play?" I shouted.
He didn't seem to think it was a big deal because he just took a deep breath.
"You have a lot to learn. You've tried to take a crash course in hockey over the years. In return, you have huge gaps in your performance, your stamina, and the way that you see the game. Once you straighten these things out, Jack's son and Sara will assist you in the basic fundamentals of hockey. You're starting fresh." He paused. "Forget everything that you've learned about hockey. It's useless."
I wanted to object, but it was going to get me nowhere. Instead, I nodded my head and started to walk away. I could only hope that my teammates weren't going to hear about this, and that Jack's son wasn't going to be the biggest thorn in my side.
Author's Note 2: Usually, I'm going to be breaking down each of the chapters with only Sara and Josh's point of view. There isn't a lot to work with here, but if you give the story some time and a decent chance- I promise you that things will get interesting for you hockey lovers. You need to start somewhere, and this is the place. Next chapter is where Jack's son comes into the picture… and well- you'll see how things unfold.
There are some other important things I should point out before I even get into this story further. This could be slow updating, or it could be fast. My motivation is usually determined by reviewer's comments because that is the only reason I'm writing this story. This story is for everyone who wants a miracle of his or her own. So, please don't get anxious about the length of the chapters… or the length of my notes. I like to communicate with my reviewers. I picked this up a lot because I write a lot over on fictionpress. So, if you guys have any problems with that- maybe we'll try to work something out, okay?
Now, I need some reviews to tell me how I'm doing, and if it's worth continuing. The story is now in your hands.
MMHMM