*Okay, you may have to read this chapter a couple times to get all the info. I apologize if that's annoying. I decided to throw all the background out there at once... kinda like taking a new boyfriend to a family holiday meal. You want them to understand everything, so they don't end up stuck in a conversation with your crazy Uncle Brian. or maybe that's just me...

Chapter Two

"Hey man," Sid stands up and greets me as I step on the plane.

"Hey!" I extend my fist and we begin the complicated new fist bump greeting. Every team has their own pattern and I never thought I would have to learn a new one but I guess that's how this business works. "Private plane… very nice…"

"Yeah well, gotta avoid airports…" He shrugs as if it's nothing.

"Ah poor superstar, gets asked for his autograph everywhere he goes!" I gotta chirp the guy, even though I know what he means and don't think for a second it's something he wants. I have only seen a brief second of his stardom in Pittsburgh and I can't imagine how out of control it is in Canada.

"Yeah well, you'll see… it gets a whole lot less fun after awhile," He brushes it off.

"Whatever, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't complain…" That's a lie.

Sid laughs and blows it off. I am sure he's heard it from every newbie to the team. The truth is I am looking forward to playing in a market that will recognize it's hockey players but I am also a bit nervous. In Dallas I just blended in as another skinny white guy but in Pittsburgh, I got heckled for my lack of production in the grocery store… I was buying yams, like, back off people.

"So tell me about this place…" Sid asks, while we take seats on the plane. "…this Charles Ross Hockey School…"

"Um, well I've been gonna there since I was a kid. A teammate of mine, Charlie Ross, from junior, his family runs it…"

"The school named after him?"

"No, no… his great grandfather was Charles Ross, an old time hockey guy. Played for the Winnipeg Falcons I think… won an Olympic Gold medal. His grandfather played for the Leafs, his dad played for Chicago, I think… I dunno, it's hard to keep track… It's a big family of hockey players, all the way up to Charlie, every one of them. Charlie was the oldest of five kids – four boys and a girl, the girl is the only one who doesn't play but she could probably take you. She's a bitch but I guess growing up with four brothers, ya gotta be right?"

"No kidding… shit," Sid laughs. He has one sister and I have one brother so neither of us can comprehend a big family's dynamics.

"So yeah, Charlie and I played junior together and every summer he would invite the whole team up for some training and partying. It was always a good time until…" I stop.

"Until?" Sid prods.

"Well until Charlie – it's a long story…" I never really like talking about it. I'm not that emotional of a guy but when I talk about Charlie, I have to bite back the tears. I doubt anyone who knew him feels any different.

"Well, we've got two hours…" Sid points out the obvious.

"I don't know if two hours cuts it but… you should probably know before we get there, it might be important to understand…" That way when a big group of growing men start crying like five year old girls, he won't judge... or maybe judge less... that might be all I can hope for.

"You're kinda freakin me out. What kinda place you takin' me to?"

"No! The place is great," I assure him. "It's a bit run down over the years but, there's just, a lot of emotion."

"Okay… so what happened?" Sid asked, his voice cautious but intent. I take a deep breath and debate how much I want to tell him. I could give him the short version but if I know Sid, the questions that follow will take longer then just telling the long version. He'll want to know every detail, so I might as well just give it up all at once.

"Okay, so my buddy, Charlie, was like the best skater, man. He was fast, could handle the puck. You never knew where he was going until the rubber was in the back of the net. You might have actually met him or played against him, or for sure you did, what am I saying? He's just a year older then us. I think he went like 7th or 8th in the draft or something like that. Top ten for sure. I wasn't really paying attention but we were all proud. We knew he would be great, ya know? He was just one of those guys, you could just tell…"

Sid nods. We all know a guy like that. Fuck, Sid was a guy like that.

"Anyways, he got drafted but with the lockout, he couldn't play and the family really needed the money for the school and to help pay for his three other brothers gear and shit," I pause and try to imagine the pressure Charlie was under. I just can't – never could. "I mean the pressure he was under was intense. He had to play. He had no choice. The KHL offered him a beauty of a contract, so off he went, right? Like everyone did. I guess that was part of the problem…" I pause and reflect. A lot of guys flooded the K. Bad things were bound to happen. Sid just nods again, listening to every word. The guy is so intense.

"So, Charlie is over in St. Petersburg with all these other Canadian and American kids just looking to play and the Russians, man, they are pissed because all these guys are coming over and taking their jobs, so they are going to prove a point right? Charlie's first shift - this huge nasty Russian, could have been fuckin' Ovechkin for all we know, fuckin' douche, comes and puts his stick right up under the back of his helmet and shoves him into the boards, head first." I use my hands and demonstrate the motion. I've watched the video a hundred times and it makes me ill every time I see it.

"Charlie tries to shake it off but… he can't get up off the ice. The guys help him to the bench where he sits for a couple of minutes and then they send him back out for another shift. The guy is clearly fucked up and they sent him back out!" I clench my fists. "Sure enough, same thing happens again. This time Charlie is out cold, lying on the ice for like 30 seconds before they even stop play. They woke him up and put him on the bench, cause clearly he's just a whiny Canadian right? Fuckers."

I take a minute and look out the window, as the plane levels out in the middle of the sky.

"Was he okay?" Sid asks, a look of concern in his eyes. Maybe telling him the rest of the story isn't a good idea given the current condition of his brain. The story of Charlie Ross has the furthest thing from a happy ending. It's not a story that is shared a lot – maybe it should be…

"He never played again." I explain point blank. I know Sid and everyone around him is worried about his brain and its apparent slow healing process but the truth is – he could be way worse off and he needs to know it. "Every time Charlie would see light he would puke, never mind an ice surface…So what did they do with him, our friendly Russian friends? They just sent him home and brought in another out of work foreigner…"

"Shit."

"Yeah," I nod. Sid gets it. We all heard horror stories about playing in the K. "He came home, saw tonnes of doctor's but nothing… he was just never better…"

"So he came home and worked at the hockey school?" Sid asked.

"Not exactly," I shake my head. I wish the story ended there. "His dad – well – his dad told him not to go to Russia in the first place, because his dad, like all Canadian hockey players of the generation, hated Russians. Like, seriously hated Russians! He wanted him to go to Sweden or Switzerland or something but the Russian contract was the best. So then when Charlie came home he was pissed at him for letting them hurt him and… I mean, if you thought your dad was strict, you've got nothing on this guy… It's amazing he didn't kill himself then…"

"Whoa what? He killed himself?" Sid sat up straight and looks at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah…" This is where the story really starts to suck. "After he basically gave up on ever being able to play hockey again, Charlie mopped. It was bad. I couldn't be around him. Nobody could. It was scary man. Facing the possibility of that being your future is fucking scary. I just backed off. A lot of guys did. I feel like shit about it…"

I cover my face and take another deep breath. To this day, I keep thinking what if… what if we didn't all back away? What if we actually stood by his side like fucking teammates should have? Maybe we could have helped him…

"His dad snapped and told him he had to do something useful with his life and then… and then the next thing we know, Charlie has signed up with the Forces, to be, like, in the fuckin' army. We were blown away. I mean, I think the most surprised of anyone was Charlie's girlfriend, Lizzie. She was in university, and I mean, these two had been together forever. I don't ever remember them not being together. I think he totally blindsided her with that. I mean, I'm sure she thought that she was going to have a life as a NHLer's wife, not a soldier's wife and I think we can both agree those are pretty fucking different. I mean don't get me wrong, Lizzie wasn't like that, ya know? She didn't care about money, or fame or any of that shit… it's just really different. But she stood by him, through everything! Bloody saint…"

"He went through training and everything and then out of nowhere, I get this phone call, inviting me to a wedding. I'm thinkin' Lizzies' knocked up or something but no... Charlie is leaving for Afghanistan. He said there was good money in it, tax free, would keep the school alive until his brothers get NHL contracts and I was like, dude, it's a warzone! You're gonna die! Not worth it man!"

"But he went, ya' know, did his thing. We were all happy that he made it home alive but I guess… I guess a part of him died there… whatever was left of him," I pause again. Shit, I hate talking about this. "The next phone call I got was an invite to his funeral. He shot himself. In his kitchen. Said he couldn't live bringing everyone else down."

"We all went to his funeral, all the guys from junior, everyone. Some of us took it harder then others… I was shit kicked. I couldn't believe it. And there's Lizzie, she was in a state of shock, I mean just blank faced, no emotion, white as a sheet. All through the ceremony, nothing. Not a tear, not a sniffle. We get to the reception, eating those little tea sandwiches that everyone hates, but they always serve, and someone, I think it was Mike Richards, went up to her to offer his condolences and she snapped. I mean snapped! She was yelling at everyone, for abandoning him, for walking away when he needed his friends the most, for ignoring the signs. They had to escort her out. They had to escort her out of her own husband's funeral…"

"Why was Richards there?" Sid asked, not even trying to hide his distaste for Flyers captain. It's no secret that the two hate each other. They may have won a Gold medal together but I heard that they never spoke. Not once - throughout the whole Olympics. Both of them are pretty intense guys, so I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the two were forced to sit through a meeting together.

"Um, they grew up together. They were really tight, him and Charlie, best friends I think…"

"Hmm…" Sid nodded his understanding.

"It was intense…"

"So what happened to the girl?" Sid asked. I knew I couldn't leave out any detail because if anyone is going to catch a missing detail – it will be Sidney Crosby – concussion or not.

"She inherited Charlie's share of the hockey school, so she works there. She dropped out of university to help take care of the place, after the brothers basically bailed and the dad became just a shell of a man. He just wanders and doesn't make coherent sentences anymore. She's been in a fight with Veteran's Affairs, since he died, to get some sort of compensation. I guess he was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder after Afghanistan but they are claiming that he had pre-existing depression due to the concussion he sustained and post-concussion symptoms, so they don't want to pay or take blame. I dunno... again it's complicated, right?"

"Wow this girl has gotten the shit end of the stick." Sid is clearly beginning to understand.

"That's why a big group of us go down every year. Show our support, do what we can," I explain. Originally Sid invited me to come to Cole Harbour and work out at his rink but I just couldn't not go to the Ross' school.

"And the brothers?" Sid asked, catching another missing detail of my story.

"Well Charlie was the oldest, then the sister, who helps run the place. Then his first brother, didn't get drafted. He plays college hockey somewhere but he developed a bit of drinking and debauchery habit and basically hasn't surfaced in years. His next brother was drafted in the eighth round last year, plays as a forth line duster somewhere, with next to no ice time and his youngest brother, is 16 and has the skills of Charlie but… kinda wasting them… he doesn't want to turn out like his brother…"

"Fair enough… that's a pretty good fear…" Sid offers quietly.

"The two youngest brothers work at the school but I don't really see them doing much. Mainly Lizzie runs around doing everything and the sister yells. If Lizzie weren't there, none of us would go…"

"Well, thanks for the heads up…" Sid leans back in his chair, taking it all in.

"Other then that, the place is great!" I laugh and Sid joins me cautiously. Other then the fact that one of the owners shot himself in the head, it's like paradise, I think sarcastically to myself. "In all seriousness though, lots of good memories at the place… Tennis court, gym, indoor ice that's a little questionable at times, especially on a hot day. I think there are like eight cabins that sleep four and then there is the main building with, like, dorm rooms. That's probably where we will be staying. It's not an intense camp but it's a good way to get your legs under you before you start working out like a mother fucker. They have trainers on staff and a pretty good drill coach and stuff. There's a beach within walking distance that's pretty awesome to cool off in for the afternoon and a great 18-hole golf course about a twenty minute drive…nothing necessarily bad about the place. Just needs some TLC that comes with some cash flow that they haven't seen in a while…"

"Sounds like a vacation…" Sid smiles reassuringly. Clearly his idea of a vacation and my idea of a vacation are very different. I picture naked girls on white sand beaches and he pictures line drills and shooting practice. Something is wrong with this guy.