Chapter 10: Hans

Author's Note: I know that the story is going the speed of mud but once I'm past the end of D1, it will pick up.

"Here we are sir," Luis announced upon arrival at Hans Sports Shop. "3275 Glenwood."

Bombay nodded and hastily put on his gloves. The temperature had dropped to almost minus thirty. It was a quiet ride over. Luis considered bringing up the night before but decided against it.

Luis pulled the limo around to the front entrance of the closed sports store. None of the lights were on in the store.

"I think its closed sir," Luis commented.

Gordon looked up. "That's okay," Gordon said. "I know the owner. If memory serves me correctly, he should be out back. Meet me back here in an hour."

Luis nodded as Bombay got out of the Limo and walked around the shop until he found the back door of the skate shop. Peering through the window, Gordon saw Hans working away on sharping another pair of skates. Sparks flew as metal scrapped against metal.0

Gordon stood outside watching the older man sharpen skate after skate as he tried to muster up the courage to go inside. It had been years since Gordon had spoken to Hans. The two were so close once. But that was a long time ago.

Gordon took a deep breath, opened the door and quietly stepped inside. . He winced at the squeaking noise that it made. Hans did not turn around.

"Gordon."

"How did you know?" He asked.

"Through the back door at this time of night? Just like you used to. " Hans turned around to face Gordon. "You'd spend hours watching me do this."

Hans picked up a pair of skates off the bench and examined them. "What do you think? Is this sharp enough, huh?"

Hans run his thumb along the edge across the blade. "Ah!"

"Did you cut yourself?" Bombay asked concerned.

"No," Hans laughed. "You always fell for that."

"God, you're morbid, Hans."

"I'm Scandinavian," Hans replied.

Gordon chuckled. He was glad to see that Hans had not lost his sense of humor over the years. ""It's nice to see you."

"Sure, sure, sure" said Hans. "You probably thought I was dead."

Gordon grimaced. He knew that Hans meant nothing by it but couldn't help but feel guilty about not keeping in touch. Gordon followed Hans in the store. There was every piece of hockey gear imaginable. Skates, sticks, jerseys, pads, pucks, tape. You could equip an entire hockey team in just one store.

Behind the cash registers, photographs and newspaper clipping cladded the wall. Some old, some newer.

"I saw you at the game the other night. Why didn't you say something?"

"So busy screaming at the kids," Hans replied. "I didn't want to spoil the moment."

Gordon didn't want to talk about what had happened the other night. He decided to change the subject. "Everything's the same." Gordon walked around the shop. Nothing had changed. It was the same store Gordon remembered twenty years ago.

"The game hasn't changed," said Hans. "Why should my store? I heard you became a doctor"

"A lawyer."

"Oh. That's too bad. Enjoy that?" Hans asked.

"I hardly ever lose a case." Gordon didn't want to admit that he didn't always like his job. It paid the bills.

Hans looked at Gordon. "That's not what I asked."

"I see you've still got this up." Bombay looked at the old newspaper clipping. Twenty years ago, Bombay missed the penalty shot in the state championship game. They were tied at the end of the third period. They ended up losing in overtime. It was the first time in years the Hawks had lost a game. "Thanks very much."

"It's important to remember the past," Hans reminded Gordon.

"I'd just as soon forget about it, Hans," said Gordon sighing. "That was the worst time of my life. Dad died that year."

"The two were not related."

"No. But it felt like they were."

Hans picked up a photograph off the counter. "I found this not long ago," he said handing it to Gordon.

Gordon picked up the photograph. It was a photograph of Gordon as a boy. Around ten years old. He was holding a trophy with his father was standing next to him. It was taken right before his father became sick.

"He was proud of you," Hans told Gordon.

"I miss him," Gordon said glumly. He missed his father. Gordon often though of how his life would have turned out had his father not died years ago.

"You scored one hundred and ninety-eight goals in that season. It was a shame you quit. You"

"– could have gone all the way." Gordon finished his sentence. Looking back, he knew he could have gone far. Maybe even make it to the NHL. It was one of Bombay's biggest regrets in life. After his father died and he lost the championship game, Gordon's heart was no longer in the game.

"You really loved to play. You remember? You used to play on the pond until after dark. Until your father called you back. You really flew on that ice Gordon," Hans insisted.

"It's all I ever wanted to do," Gordon admitted.

"Then why did you stop?" Hans asked. He knew the answer but was trying to get Gordon to see the big picture. That his actions, whether good or bad, affected the people around him. "Reilly? I saw what he did to you. Reilly is an idiot."

"The guy wins," Gordon insisted

"It's not about winning, Gordon." Hans said. "It never was. Just show them how to play. To have fun. Teach them how to fly. That's what they'll remember long after you go back to being a doctor."

"Lawyer." Gordon reminded Hans.

"And long after they stop getting skates from me," said Hans. "Here." He held up a pair of skated. "Sharpened, laced, and ready to go."

"What's this?" asked Gordon.

"Your new skates." Explained Hans. "That's why you came tonight isn't it? I figured you're a size nine and a half."

"Actually, I'm a nine." Said Gordon.

"Wear thick socks." He placed the new skates into Gordon's hands. "Enjoy them."

Gordon took the skates and sat down. "You really think I can coach these kids?" Bombay asked. "Will I be able to help them? "

"Not nearly as much as they will help you," Hans said. Bombay was confused. He knew he could skate. He knew the game. But how could these kids help him.

Hans sighed and sat down beside Gordon. "I've watched you since you were a small boy. Ever since your Dad died, all you have done is push everyone away. "'

"I remember how it felt when my Dad died. I never want to feel like that again," Gordon said. When his father died, his heart was ripped in half.

"Is that how you want to live the rest of your life? " Hans asked.

Gordon thought for a moment. "No." He didn't want to live like this anymore. He wanted more.

"Then you know what you have to do," Hans said. "Start letting people into your life. You can't live your life always worried about being hurt. Loss is a part of life. But so is love. Friendship. Family. "

Bombay nodded. He knew exactly what he had to do. He was to make wrongs right. Start over. "Thank you Hans," Gordon said. "For everything."

Bombay glanced at his watch. Luis would soon be returning to pick him up. He stood up, paid Hans for his new skates and showed himself out. Sure enough, Luis was there waiting for him.

"Where to now sir?"

"Home. I have a big day tomorrow."

The next morning Gordon woke up early. He had a lot to do. He was dressed, showered and out the door by 6 am. Bombay felt refreshed. Bombay had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up in the morning and not have to nurse a nagging hangover.

Bombay found the location of the office for the Minnesota Pee-Wee Hockey League. He had a meeting with Terrence Clark at 10 am. Bombay arrived at the office not sure on what to expect. Bombay let the reception know he had arrived and was directed to a small waiting room where he was assured that Mr. Clark would be along shortly.

Gordon sat in the visitors chair and stared at the walls as he waited for Mr. Clark to arrive. The walls were blank. It was so cold that it reminded Bombay of his own apartment.

As Bombay waited, he took out a sheet of paper which contained the names of the players who played for district five.

Bombay went over the names in his head. Lester Averman. Terry Hall. Jesse Hall. Charles Conway. Guy Germaine. Constance Moreau. David Karp. Peter Mark. Gregory Goldberg.

Bombay had remembered their first practice where Goldberg had mentioned that they had names. Bombay also remembered his response to Goldberg and sighed. It had a lot to make up for. He didn't know how but decided he would make an effort to know each and every one of them. Not just their names but more than that.

By the time Mr. Clark showed up, Bombay had already memorized the name of each player on his team. Without saying a word, Mr. Clark retrieved a binder labeled District 5 from the shelf and sat down on the other side of the desk.

"Mr. Bombay," he started. "I've ask you to come down here today as I have some good news for you."

Bombay was confused. He had expected to receive the third degree. "Good news?"

Mr. Clark opened a door in his desk, took out a sheet of paper and handed it to Bombay. Bombay quickly scanned the paper that was handed to him. It contained a list of available community service positions within the department of community services for Minnesota.

"What's this?" Bombay asked.

Mr. Clark had to laugh. He had read that Bombay was a lawyer. One of the best in the city. He felt that Bombay was wasting his time and talent coaching inner city pee hockey.

"A list of all positions available within the department."

Bombay shook his head. "I don't understand."

Mr. Clark was shocked. Here he was offering Bombay an out and he wasn't taking it. Did he actually want to coach these kids?

Mr. Clark had hoped Bombay would leap at the opportunity. He had just the position in mind for Gordon. Minneapolis Legal Aid was looking for a defense attorney for some time now. The service offered legal advice to low income clients who otherwise would never be able to afford an attorney.

"You can have any position within the department," Mr. Clark said. 'In fact I have just the position for you. Its…"

Bombay cut him off. "I'd like to continue coaching district five."

"Wh…wh…what?" Mr. Clark was astonished. "You gotta be kidding."

Mr. Clark couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why?" He sputtered out.

"I can't explain it," Gordon said. "I might be able to help these kids."

Mr. Clark shook his head laughing. Gordon had to be joking. There was no other explanation. Mr. Clark looked at Gordon and saw he was serious. He immediately stopped laughing. Bombay was serious. He opened the binder again and pulled out a file labeled complaints. He took the page on top and handed it to Bombay.

"I really hate to break it to you Mr. Bombay, but you can't coach District Five anyone" Mr. Clark said.

"Why not?"

Mr. Clark motioned to the paper he handed Bombay." Read it for yourself."

Bombay read the entire list of complaints against him. Almost all the parents had withdrawn their kids from pee wee hockey under protest. None of the kids were going to be playing hockey until Gordon was removed as coach. The name at the very top was Casey Conway.

Gordon handed back the sheet of paper back to Mr. Clark. Gordon was undeterred. "Do you have a list of all the contact information for the players?"

Mr. Clark shoved the binder towards Gordon. Gordon immediately jotted down Charlie Conway's address on a sheet of paper. He knew he had a lot to answer for but decided that he needed to talk to Charlie first.

Bombay handed back the binder to Mr. Clark and asked, "What eventually happens to these kids?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when they get older," Gordon replied. He knew the answer but he wanted to hear it.

"Half of them end up either in half way houses or in and out of jail. Drugs maybe. The lucky ones might end up in dead end jobs. They rarely finish high school."

Mr. Clark looked to see how Bombay was taking it. Bombay was steadfast and determined to see this though.

Mr. Clark continued. "All of them will end up clients of the Legal Aid department. I don't want to dissuade you but …"

Bombay cut him off again. "So don't."

Mr. Clark glared at Bombay. Here he was trying to help him and Bombay turned him down. "Don't expect this opportunity to arise again."

Bombay returned the glare. "Is that all?"

"For now."

Gordon Bombay stood and left the office. He knew what he had to do. He just didn't know how.