The Hockey Challenge

"New York Ranger Iz Swan Caught in Cross-Dressing Scandal!"

General Manager Banner didn't utter a word, just slapped a copy of The Post down on his desk…and waited.

Great big picture, right on the front page.

I stared at my feet.

I didn't have to read the article to guess what it said.

The Organization was going to want an explanation, something they could use to convince the world their star goalie wasn't really photographed out with a rival team's power forward…wearing a little black dress and kitten heels.

They needed plausible deniability. I couldn't give it to them.

After a moment of strained silence, the GM cleared his throat. "Son…"

With a shake of his head, he tried again. "Son, I'm not going to ask if that's you in the picture. We both know it is. Although if you have a twin running around, now is the perfect time to speak up. Otherwise…"

I finally looked up. "Otherwise what?"

"Do you have an athletically inclined sister I don't know about?"

"No."

"A brother? It wouldn't be ideal, but we could still work with it."

"I don't have a brother."

He sat back heavily in his seat and rubbed his eyes. "Then this is going to be a PR nightmare. Maybe we can say it was taken at Halloween. Or you lost a bet and had to-"

"…wear pantyhose and a pushup bra?"

"It's been known to happen."

I grabbed the paper off his desk, flipping through until I found the rest of the photos.

It figures. My one moment of throwing caution to the wind, and the paps were there to catch it all.

"At least I don't look fat." As far as silver linings went, it was pretty thin.

"Jesus, you sound like a girl. That's not helpful. You know there've been rumors floating around since before you were even drafted. Obviously you can't help that you're kinda on the small side, and …uh…maybe a little effeminate. No offense."

"None taken."

"Some people in the Organization already thought it was weird when you insisted on having your own private area in the locker room "to maintain your Zen". I took some flak for letting you do it, but as long as you kept putting up the numbers, no one was gonna complain too much."

"I appreciate it."

He stood up and began to pace. "You're a good kid, Iz, but more to the point, you're a great goalie, so we'll have to find a way to spin this or it will dog you your whole career. The Front Office can be somewhat open minded. But you need to work with us a little. So... please… please…don't wear any more dresses in public. And if Cullen still wants to stick his tongue down your throat, could you just wait 'til the off season and then go hop an airplane somewhere there aren't any paparazzi or camera phones?"

"Like Antarctica?"

I watched my sarcasm slide right by as his face lit up.

"That would work."

"I'll make a note."

"Your teammates will give you some static for sure, but nothing you can't ride out. The only guy that might be a real dick is McCarty, but everyone knows he's taken one too many sticks to the head. Keep doing your job, and they'll get over it.

But...the fans will be a problem. You know how it is – hockey is only for real men. They aren't gonna understand why you'd want to put on a dress, and they really won't understand whatever it is you have going on with Cullen. Even if you claim it was a joke and there was a metric ton of alcohol involved."

"But I'm Canadian!"

"Even then. Hell…it would almost be better if you actually were a woman. They wouldn't like it, but they'd learn to deal." He dropped heavily into his chair and stared out the window. "I'm just not sure how we're going to fix this."

My stomach did a backflip. After all these years, could it really be this easy?

I took a deep breath. "I think I may have a solution..."