|
|
|
 |
 |
|
You are reading from:
THE NIGHT THEY STOLE THE STANLEY CUP
(BOOK 2)
by Roy MacGregor
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Mats Sundin chewed his nails - just like Travis Lindsay. Mats
Sundin's hands were twice as big as Travis's, but the nails were the
same, bitten to the quick. It surprised Travis; he had never imagined
that a National Hockey League superstar would ever have anything to
worry about. Nails, like life, would be perfect. But here was the best
player on the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of the best players in the
NHL, and he was no different from more than half the players on the
Screech Owls - nervous and fidgeting when it came to waiting around
in the dressing room. Travis liked him immediately.
"Good to meet you, Travis."
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Travis swallowed hard. He had imagined perhaps getting Mats
Sundin's autograph on the card he had in his vest pocket, but that was
supposed to involve a lot of work getting Sundin's attention. Yet here
was the great Mats Sundin greeting him as if it were the most natural
thing in the world.
"Hi," Travis said. He wondered if Mats Sundin had even heard of
him.
The Screech Owls had come to Toronto to play in "The Little
Stanley Cup," a huge tournament that was being held over the March
school break. Novice and peewee and bantam teams had been invited
from Ontario and Quebec, as well as from New York and Michigan.
Each team was guaranteed three games, four if they made it into the
playoffs, and most were also planning to attend a Leafs game.
The Screech Owls, like the Leafs, had gone through a rebuilding
season. Sarah Cuthbertson, the team captain, had moved on
permanently to the Toronto Aeros after the Lake Placid tournament.
There had even been a story about Sarah in the Toronto Star saying
she was a shoo-in for the Canadian women's hockey team at the 1998
Winter Olympics.
Matt Brown and his loudmouth father were also missing. Mr.
Brown had wanted Matt on another team, where he thought his son
might be appreciated a bit more. Mr. Brown had, as usual, missed the
point. Matt was greatly appreciated, especially his wicked shot, but
Mr. Brown was not. Hockey games this season had been more
enjoyable for everyone - fans as well as players. No Mr. Brown
screaming at the referees. No Mr. Brown pounding the glass and
shouting at them to get out there and "kick butt!"
Muck was back as coach, of course. Back and still the same. It
was the Screech Owls who had changed, but not nearly as much as
some of the teams they played against. Nish and Data and Willie were
all still Owls, along with most of the others, but as well as Sarah and
Matt, Zak and Mario were gone, as were goaltenders Guy Boucher -
still hanging on as the back-up goalie for the double-A team - and
Sareen Goupa, who was now the starting goalie for the town's new
women's team.
With Guy and Sareen missing, the Screech Owls had taken on
Jennie Staples and a new kid in town, Jeremy Weathers, who had a
terrific glove hand. Derek Dillinger had moved up onto the first line
to take over Sarah's spot between Travis and Dmitri Yakushev - who
was faster this year if anything - and the new second-line center was
Gordie Griffith, whose skating bursts were finally catching up to his
growth spurts. The new third-line center was Andy Higgins, a big,
mean guy whose voice was already dropping. Travis didn't much care
for Andy. He wasn't quite sure why - he just didn't like him.
The new second-line left-winger was Liz Moscovitz, a good
friend of Sarah's, and the new third-line winger was Chantal
Larochelle, whose family had just moved to town from Montreal.
The new defenseman was Lars Johanssen, who'd been born in
Sweden and had come to Canada when his father was sent over to run
the chipboard factory just outside town. It was Lars's father who had
arranged for the team to attend the Leafs' practice. Back in Sweden,
Mr. Johanssen had worked - and once played - with Mats Sundin's
father.
Mats Sundin treated Lars like a long-lost cousin and gave him a
stick that had been signed by every one of the Leafs. Then he had
taken the team into the actual dressing room, where some of the
players were still sitting around and others were fixing up their sticks
for the next game.
Travis thought he had died and gone to heaven. He could not stop
staring at the players as they worked on their sticks.
One of the players had the tip of a new stick underneath the door
frame and was pulling up on the handle to make a quick little curve
at the very end of the blade. Travis bent down and stared, fascinated.
"You do this, too?" the man asked.
Travis looked up, startled. It was Doug Gilmour.
The Leafs' captain was smiling back at Travis. Travis could only
shake his head, no. He couldn't talk. What could he say to Doug
Gilmour? I have your poster up in my room? I know a guy who's got
your rookie card from St. Louis?
But it didn't seem as if he had to say anything. Doug Gilmour was
still smiling. Now he was pulling out the stick and trying it, leaning
down hard and bending it so he could check the whip in the shaft.
Then he flicked a used roll of tape and it flew hard against the wall
and bounced off, straight into a garbage can.
"How come I can't do that in games?" Gilmour asked.
Travis looked around. There was no one else there. That meant
Doug Gilmour had to be talking to him! Still, he couldn't answer.
"You a left shot?" Gilmour asked.
Travis finally spoke: "Y-yeah."
"Here, then - you give it a try."
Travis took the stick. It felt like King Arthur's sword in his hand:
magical, powerful, but too big and heavy for him. Doug Gilmour
threw down a fresh roll of tape. "Let's see your shot."
Travis almost fainted. Doug Gilmour was asking to see his shot!
He stickhandled the tape back and forth a couple of times and then
fired it. It hit with a dull thud against the wall, fell to the floor, and
rolled away.
"Good wrister," Gilmour said.
"I've got a better slapshot," Travis said. He wasn't certain he did,
but he felt he'd better explain that he wasn't quite as weak as his shot
had sounded.
"Then you'd better have this stick," Doug Gilmour said. "It works
better for you than me."
Travis couldn't believe it. Doug Gilmour was grinning, but not
laughing at him. He was serious.
"You're giving this to me?" Travis asked.
"Only if you want it," Doug Gilmour said. "Here - let me sign it
for you."
Gilmour took a Sharpie pen off the bench by the skate sharpener
and signed his name and number: Doug Gilmour - 93. He handed the
stick back to Travis.
"There you go. It's yours now."
The stick was alive in Travis's hands, as if it held an electric
current. He could hardly believe this was happening. It all felt like a
dream. He felt he was floating. He felt dizzy.
"Thanks," Travis said. It didn't seen enough.
"Any time, buddy," Doug Gilmour said, and smiled. "Thanks"
seemed like enough to him.
The Leafs' captain went back into the training room, where no
one but the players and trainers and equipment workers were allowed,
and Travis - hanging onto his stick for dear life - raced off to find the
rest of the team.
They weren't in the dressing room. They weren't in the corridor.
But there were bright lights shining from out in the arena, and when
he got there he could see television cameramen around the bench
area, where a lot of Screech Owls jacket backs could be seen.
Travis hurried over. The team was gathered in a semicircle
around Mats Sundin, who was answering questions. The television
camera crews were recording, and several reporters were also there,
writing very quickly in small notebooks.
"Do you have another job you go to?" Fahd Noorizadeh asked.
Travis could see Nish turn to Willie Granger and roll his eyes. A
typical Fahd question. What would he ask next: Do you do up your
own skates?
Mats Sundin laughed good-naturedly: "This is my only job - it's
more than enough to keep me busy."
"Who's your favorite player?" Gordie Griffith asked.
"Doug Gilmour, of course," Mats Sundin answered, again
laughing.
Nish moved in, grinning: "What do you think of Don Cherry?"
Travis couldn't believe Nish could be so stupid. Everyone knew
what Don Cherry had said on "Coach's Corner" about the Wendel
Clark trade that brought Sundin to Toronto from Quebec. Everyone
knew what the "Hockey Night in Canada" analyst had been saying for
as long as they could remember about European players faking
injuries and taking dives and never coming through in the Stanley
Cup playoffs.
"I think Don Cherry is a very funny comedian," Sundin said.
"A 'comedian'?" Nish asked.
"Yes - he's very funny. But you can't take him seriously."
Fahd had another Fahd question: "Can you speak Swedish?"
Mats Sundin blinked, not believing his ears. "Here's another
comedian," he laughed. "Just like Don Cherry."
Fahd didn't get it. "Can you?" he repeated.
Mats Sundin shrugged and turned to Lars Johanssen. Mats began
talking very fast, in Swedish, to Lars, who giggled and said
something very quickly back to Mats.
One of the reporters called out: "What're you two saying?"
Mats Sundin laughed. "I asked my good friend Lars if his team
have given him a nickname yet."
"And have they?" another reporter asked.
They hadn't - until Nish jumped in.
"We call him Cherry," Nish shouted.
Everyone - including Lars - laughed. The reporters scribbled it
down. The cameras turned their floodlights on Nish, who never even
flinched.
"Wayne Nishikawa," he called out to the reporters.
"N-I-S-H-I..."
|
|
|
|
|
