Author's Note: This story is about Sidney Crosby and Jordan Staal of the Pittsburgh Penguins. It takesd place during the 2008 - 2009 NHL Season. Other players from other NHL teams like the Vancouver Canucks and Montreal Canadiens etc will make appearances. The characters of Bella Morgan, Clay Morgan, Dean Morgan and Vanessa Canning do not exist. Even though they are the only fictional characters this whole story is FICTIONAL. I really appreciate any feedback you have. Thanks for reading!
"Whichever comes first, for better or worse
He's married to the game, like a fuck you for Chirstmas
His gift is a curse, forget the earth." Eminem
Mario has been walking around with his cellphone glued to his ear for the past 3 hours. If he's not taking a call, he's making one. I'm not stupid. I know something is up. And when something is up with Mario Lemieux, that means something is about to be up with the Pittsburgh Penguins.
Nathalie smiles at me as I come in the kitchen.
"Hungry?" she wants to know and I shake my head no, but smile.
"No I ate on the way home from the rink." I explain and then adjust my hat and motion toward the living room. "Has he been on the phone the whole time I've been at practice?"
"Yes," she replies. "You know how it goes."
As she turns back to the oven, where she's baking something that smells delicious.
I'm dying to know what's going on. Mario often takes his work home with him, but this is different. This is intense. This reeks of trade.
I know it's not me, obviously, but he is trying to wheel and deal someone before the holiday freeze. I want to know who so I can prepare myself. And prepare the team. I mean, that's my job.
I drop into one of the oak and leather stools at the granite breakfast bar and watch Nathalie pull a piping hot tray of cookies out of the oven.
As if on cue, Alexa and Austin come bounding into the kitchen. Nathalie shoos them away.
"They have to cool!" she insists.
Austin turns to me with an inquisitive face. "How was practice?"
"Good."
"You gonna beat the Canucks or what?" he demands to know and I try not to smile.
"I'll do my best," I promise solemnly.
"Good," he replies and scrunches up his little nose. "The Canucks suck."
I laugh as Mario enters the room and grabs Austin by the shoulders hugging his son despite the boy's eye rolling. He kisses Alexa on the cheek as Nathalie finally gives them both a cookie and slides one onto the granite counter in front of me too.
They're oatmeal with M&Ms baked into them. My favorite, damnit.
"So it's done," he tells us all.
"What's done?" I ask feeling a little queasy. I don't deal well with change and if this involves the team…
"We picked up Clay Morgan."
I blink. "Clay Morgan? From Montreal?"
Mario nods. "They've got cap issues. They had to dump someone. It wouldn't hurt us to have some more depth defensively what with Gonch injured. I made a call."
"Morgan?" Austin repeats. "Is he related to that jerk Dean Morgan on the Canucks?"
Mario nods as Nathalie gives her son a disapproving look.
"That jerk is a fast forward with a killer slapshot," Mario corrects his son. "And yes, Dean is his older brother. Clay is bigger, 6'4, and somehow he's still fast. He also knows how to shoot."
"He's been in a pretty long point slump this year," I say because I remember hearing the TSN guys report on it and how Gainey was pissed off at Morgan's underachieving which is probably why he let him go.
"I'm confident Mike can whip him out of that," Mario replied easily.
"So we're not losing anyone?" I clarify anxiously.
Marion smiles. "No Sid. Relax. We're just adding a little more depth."
I smile casually and take a bit of the cookie even though I know that means I'll have to do crunches before bed tonight.
"How did things go at practice today?" Mario wants to know as he too steals a cookie off the tray.
"Fine," I say simply knowing I can't tell him yet again how unhappy I am with Theirren. I've expressed my concern and distaste for his coaching style a lot but Mario recently asked me to try and open my mind and give him a really good second chance. So that is what I am doing… or trying to.
His phone starts buzzing again and as he swallows down the cookie and answers it, I excuse myself and head to my room.
Once there, I close the door and flip open my Mac book and google Clay Morgan.
Clay Jared Morgan born September 1, 1985 in Boston Massachuesetts while his dad, JD Morgan, was the goalie coach at Boston University.
I raise an eyebrow at that. Hockey blood, just like me. I scroll further down the wikipedia page.
He had one older brother Dean who was drafted originally by the Avalanche and played one year for them before moving to the Canucks. I knew that. I'd faced Dean before. He was a bit of a hot head with a strong slapshot, like Mario had said. Clay also had a younger sister that it says here was a goalie on the UCLA's female hockey team. Wow. She must be as big as he is. Female hockey players of any kind are usually able to bench press as much as I am.
I continue on, skimming over this guy's life.
Started playing hockey at 3. Played at University of Maine, Orono on a full scholarship. Drafted 2nd round by the Los Angeles Kings. Traded almost at the end of his first season to Montreal. And now… although wikipedia didn't have the update yet… he was a Pittsburgh Penguin.
He played offensive defence. I remember he scored on us the last time we played the Habs. I also remember that he skated away from Cookie when he started yipping trying to goad him into a fight.
I flipped back to the google home page I had put his name in and hit images. I was nosey what can I say.
There was the typical shots of him on the ice during games. A few of him from the Habs website during practice and in his suit getting off the team bus. And then, at the bottom of the first page, I found a pic of him with his brother, in T shirts and jeans both holding Corona bottles but not looking fall-over-drunk. And then there was another shot of him, in a suit, next to a fairly tall, very slim, incredibly sexy looking brunette. He was turned away from the camera looking down at her and laughing at something She was looking directly at the camera with a mischevious grin on her full pink lips and a gleam in her green eyes.
She was gorgeous.
It was some weird fan site and there was no description as to who the girl was but it had to be the girlfriend. Or wife, although I hadn't read he had one of those.
I hoped beyond hope she was the wife. Wives understood the routine. The trades, the moving, the road trips and all the other rituals that were the life of a hockey player. Girlfriends… not so much. They were always more whiny, more insecure and more demanding which always made the players more distracted. The last thing Clay Morgan needed was to be dealing with a freaked out girlfriend in the middle of bonding and performing with a new team.
Well, if it wasn't the last thing he needed it was definitely the last thing I needed. This year wasn't starting out the best. We weren't completely tanking but we were struggling both in the locker room to bond as a team and on the ice as well. Every win was more of a struggle than it had to be. Than it should be.
If Mario was going to bring in fresh blood we had to have their whole commitment and attention or it would just create further distraction.
God, I hope she is the wife.
"But I think I'm still trying to figure this crap out
Thought I had it mapped out, but I guess I didn't
This fucking black cloud still follows me around" Eminem
I really needed to change my ringtone back to something fun. I had switched it to the John Carpenter theme from Halloween as a joke in October but I kept forgetting to change it back. And, now as I lay half asleep in bed, it started to blare from my cell on my nightstand and scared the living crap out of me.
Instead of answering it I pull the pillow over my head.
It finally stops but 30 seconds later starts again.
I continue to ignore it and it stops… and then starts again.
I groan and grab it without opening my eyes. I flip over and see his name on the call display.
"This better be good."
"I've been traded."
My eyes fly open.
The early morning sun is drifting in through my white gauze curtains. I glance at the clock. It's a little after 7 am.
"To who?" is all I can say because the why doesn't matter.
"Pens."
My body tenses. "Penguins? Pittsburgh?"
"No Pen State," he replies sarcastically. "I've decided to go back to college. This NHL thing isn't for me."
"Asshat," I roll my eyes but grow serious again quickly. "Did you see it coming?"
"No. And maybe yes," he replies. "I mean my contract is up next year and they haven't even called my agent. And I knew they had cap issues."
"There are worst teams to be traded to," I remind him still trying to process this news. "You could have ended up on the Leafs."
He chuckles at that. "I'm leaving today. Have a plane out at 7 tonight."
"Wow," I blink. "They're not messing around."
"Mr. Lemieux wants me to play tomorrow night."
"Dean is playing the Penguins tomorrow!" I blurt out and know I'm going to regret it. Stating the obvious in my family does not go unpunished.
"Really? I had no idea!" I can literally see him rolling his eyes through the freaking phone. "Dean? My brother plays hockey? Cool."
"Shut up okay, you woke me up," I bitch shoving the pillows back against my headboard for comfort.
"Did you go out last night, bar star?"
"No jerkoff," I lie. "It's 7am. Learn your time zones already."
"Whatever."
"So you're playing Dean in your first game as a Pen," I mutter thinking of my brothers facing off against each other. I don't like it much. I always hoped they be on the same team. They never have been so I should be used to it by now.
"Yeah," he pauses. "Him and the rest of the Canucks. Like Kesler."
I feel cold suddenly and it's 75 degrees.
"Leave it alone," I warn.
"Nope."
"Clay nothing happened. I'm fine. I'm okay with everything the way it is. Just relax." I am rambling on like a panicked idiot.
"The ink probably won't be dry in time anyway and I'll spend my night in the press box."
"Better than the penalty box," I snap.
"Look, what's your class load like?" he wants to know, changing the subject without actually agreeing to leave well enough alone.
"I have two papers to turn in next week and then I'm off for winter break."
"Can you fly out to Pittsburgh and help me find a place to live and all that crap?" He wants to know. "I hate doing that shit and you're great at it. Plus it would be nice to have a familiar face around."
Clay hates change. Always has. Which is why this is probably the worst possible career choice for him. Unless you're a superstar there's little or no control over where you play and for how long.
"Superstar…" I whisper.
"What?"
"Clay you get to play with Sid the Kid," I blurt out because it honestly just hit me. Like a ton of bricks.
"Dear God you're slow," he tells me annoyed. "Can you come out or not?"
"Yeah sure. I can email the papers in." I say and I'm suddenly excited. "This is good C. He's not a selfish player. He sets up everyone, doesn't just hog shots. They made the Stanley Cup finals last year!"
"Yeah, but they lost," Clay reminds me. "And rumor is if he doesn't get along with you, you're banished. Lemieux will trade you without even a second thought."
"He'll like you. Everyone likes you. You Mr. Freaking Congeniality." I smile because I'm trying to make fun of him a little bit but I honestly mean it. My brother's a great guy.
"Can I bring Ness with me?" I ask hopefully. "Pretty please?"
"You two are trouble together" He groans into the phone. "Is she finished with school for the semester?"
"Yes actually. She should be in editing hell like the rest of the film students but she has her act together and got her documentary done yesterday. Almost 2 weeks early. We had a wrap party last night," I say and stifle a yawn.
"Bar star' He snarks before adding casually "Yeah fine. Bring the hippie chick."
I grin. "Hold on."
I slip off my bed, open my bedroom door and pad down the hall. Ness is exactly where I left her last night at 4am - stretched out on the couch in her blue tie-dyed silk mini dress.
"Wanna go to Pittsburgh for a few weeks?" I ask and lean over and give her a small shove.
"I think I might barf," she moans back.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Pittsburgh in November? What the hell for?"
"Clay is now a Penguin."
"Oh," she opens her eyes and they're big and brown and bloodshot but filled with interest. "Is that good or bad."
I shrug. "Right now it's just different."
She thinks for a moment and I can hear Clay breathing impatiently in my ear.
"I've never been to Pittsburgh," she smiles. "I'm in."
"She's in," I repeat happily.
"I'll buy the tickets now and email you the itinerary. I'm hoping to get you on the 10pm out of LAX."
"Great. See you tomorrow," I tell him and pause. "C?"
"What?"
"I have a good feeling about this."
"Sure," is all he says before hanging up.
I stare at my phone and fight the instinct to call my parents. It's the first thing I'm sure he wanted to do too.
Vanessa watches me through hungover eyes. "Seriously, are the Penguins a good thing?"
"They've got the most talented player in the history of the game as their Captain and they're a stronger Stanley Cup contender than the Canadiens are right now," I explain to my hockey illiterate best friend.
She nods. "Is playing with a hot shot a good thing?"
I pause and smile. "My dad would tell Clay that Crosby can do nothing but elevate Clay's game. Being around someone that good makes everyone else work harder and perform better."
"Did you tell him that?"
"Basically," I nod and tuck my tangled hair behind my ear. "But it's more believable from dad."
She gives me a small sympathetic smile. I smile back and head back into my room to start packing.
I miss mom and dad the most at times like this, when I have to try to channel their nurturing attitudes. They were always so happy and proud of us no matter what we did or what new challenge or hurtle we faced they motivated us and kept us thinking positively.
I like to think that since they died we've done a pretty good job of keeping each other on the right track and channeling their positivity but…. It would be so much better if they were still here.