Chapter 380: Jonathan XXI—Serious Business

I’ve got a huge advantage here. Jonathan thought to himself, I don’t even think this bonehead talking to me even knows the advantage I have. I don’t even feel freaking nervous, well maybe a little, but no more than going into a normal game. Hell, I feel great! Now if this guy would just shut up and quit with the Goddamn pep-talk maybe I can get onto that ice and have a proper stretch!

“Thanks,” Jonathan said not knowing or caring if he had cut into the middle of a sentence or not, or whatever, just as long as he finished the interlude and was free to get to his net. He smiled and then turned and skated, feeling a zing in his gut, avoiding any glances at the crowd but he could feel the buzz of them. Yeah, this had to be one of his biggest venues outside of his foray into the Quebec invitational earlier that year.

Course this game wasn’t as important but then again, he had an entire period all to himself with no real pressure on him. He grabbed his water bottle and felt the weight, and he tossed it in the air and caught it, put it back on the net. Yup, his number one advantage was no pressure. No matter how important Joe had told him this period was, it really wasn’t, not really. Who would have real expectations on a kid, a thirteen year old one at that! No one would blame him if he tanked and let in like eight goals, hell that was even less than Dad had done. He couldn’t even do worse than Dad today!

Jonathan bounced from side to side on his skates, got the blood rushing through his veins, closed his eyes and sucked in the air, and inhaled the scent of his opponents. Oh yeah, they had no idea, none whatsoever what sort of hell he was gonna unleash. All of them thought, this is just a game, we can just overlook the poor kid, he won’t even be taking it seriously. The very thought made Jonathan want to cackle and reach his hands towards the heavens and shake the very walls of the building down with his laughter. He was going to take this period very seriously, he was going to protect this lead, and he was going to scare the shit outta every single individual in the building. What’s more, it really wouldn’t be that complicated a process to do it.

Simple plans were often the best; Jonathan grinned as he crouched in his net and heard his name blared over the speakers to the delight of the audience. Ah yes, every single one of those people in the stands had no idea either did they. None of them even conceived of his advantage, they were ready to write him off as a novelty, perhaps an even greater one than the chicks who had been in net during the second period. Everyone had already prepared to forgive him and comfort him.

Ha! That was something for Dad tonight, not him!

He watched the players circling around; some of them shouted things to him, a female voice, and a male voice, ah words of encouragement. Their opinions really didn’t matter much, so he didn’t listen to their words. Hell even the coaching was a sham and he didn’t have to listen to them at all!

Briefly he wondered where Elena sat, and did she write him off as easily as everyone else, but it lasted only momentarily. He couldn’t bother himself with her right now; he couldn’t bother himself with anything. In fact, he saw Dan Hinote’s schmuckish face on the bench, that stupid grin as he talked with Joe’s wife, and Jonathan knew that there was a reason he didn’t like Dan right now, he just couldn’t figure out why.

He ran his tongue over his lips and the puck dropped. Joe won the face off, and he fumbled the puck to Drury and the players went up ice, away for him. Jonathan didn’t really pay much attention to the scrambling and scrumming over there, it made no difference because he had a lead, and as long as he preserved that lead, then that’s all that mattered. The whistle blew over there, and he could tell it was a penalty being called.

“Peter Forsberg!” Mitchell said into his microphone, Jonathan grinned. Putting Mitchell into a ref outfit was a pretty keen idea. “Two minutes for being scary!”

Jonathan laughed and he skated a circle around his net, and he took a swig of water although he wasn’t very thirsty. He turned and spit it onto the glass, winking at the fans as he did so. They didn’t seem very charmed so he went back to his crease.

The power play continued down the ice and Jonathan squinted, the crowd ooh-ed and ah-ed as Tanguay and Hejduk threw some shots on net, maybe two, or three, and Steve Hartley did a pretty good job on them. Eh they weren’t very good shots anyway, just standard stuff Steve would be embarrassed not to save on. The puck went out of play and Jonathan sighed and he crouched on the ice, did some stretches. He didn’t want to get cold, he knew what could happen if he got cold, then his advantage, and his secret weapon wouldn’t matter much.

The period continued with more shots, more oohs and ahs and Jonathan cursed knowing that even though his teammates thought they did him a favor by hemming them in over there it really wasn’t all that great. He wanted to see some shots, the more saves Steve made only increased that guy’s confidence and it only made Jonathan that much more anxious to make a good showing once he did see action. The danger in that was in overcompensating, over thinking and over reacting.

He blew out a breath of air.

Stop thinking kid, it won’t be long and then the arena will be yours.

Jonathan half closed his eyes and grit his teeth. He knew that voice, that increasingly familiar voice, pecking at his brain, whispering over his shoulder, breathing down the back of his net. And he wouldn’t even let his lips open to tell those posts to shut up. Talking to them would only encourage them more, and he wanted to do this on his own, and not be considered squirrely, with all apologies to Dad of course.

I know you can hear me.

Jonathan wrinkled his nose and twitched his lips over his teeth.

If you do not ignore me, such wonderful things could happen, including today, starting today. Think about it cub, think about it.

Jonathan stretched his neck and stopped listening. The only thing mattering now was the puck that had just smacked against his end of the boards. Instantly gauging the situation, Jonathan skated to the boards, retrieved the puck.

“Kid! Over here!” Jonathan made brief eye contact with Rob Blake and he passed the puck to him.

Well that was action of sorts. He nodded as he watched Blake pass the puck to Drury and the play went into the neutral zone. Yes, he felt a little better. The puck came back, flipped into the zone. Jonathan again retrieved it and zeroing in on a lane near the far boards he shot the puck hard, and was pleased to see it go all the way back into the neutral zone where Blake picked it up and flipped it the rest of the way down the ice for a line change.

Steve Hartley again wowed the crowd over with a string of saves, a lot of them on Cecile and David Aebischer’s girlfriend. Jonathan wanted to kick something. He didn’t want it to go like this! He wanted a chance to show off here, make his Dad proud and Elena squeal with delight.

Within the minute and a line change later, Jonathan got his wish. The puck came into his zone on the stick of Peter Forsberg. To Jonathan’s horror, he did feel slight panic and he refused to look into the Swede’s icy eyes because he knew he would collapse completely into a quivering heap of frightened jelly. He tilted his chin up and skated out to cut down the angle and he made ready for…. Ah Peter passed it off to his girlfriend, and Jonathan’s courage came back. Josefina smacked the puck which went as fast as the slap shot of the kid cut from last week’s team and Jonathan easily snatched it up in his glove and held it to his chest for the whistle.

“Got ya baby,” Jonathan said to the puck holding to his eye before he tossed it into the referee’s hand. “You’re not getting by me that easy.”

“EH come on kid, don’t let your head get too big.”

Jonathan frowned and then looked into the evil leer that was the face of Adam Foote. Trying to intimidate me, he thought. He thinks I have fear, he thinks I’m easy. “What?” he asked trying to make his eyes as big and Bambi-like as possible.

“Big deal you made a save off a super model, just wait til the boys start cranking it, your Daddy was nothing you’ll be even sweeter!” Another leer.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. After all, this was the dumb ass who couldn’t put out for his wife for weeks—yes Jonathan did listen to the gossip of the wives when it was presented. “Well I know for one thing,” Jonathan replied calmly. “You won’t be scoring on me.”

“Oh yea and why’s that?” Footer asked with a grin.

“Because I’m only here for the third period, you’d need longer than that to work up the juice for a goal on me, shit it took you what, like eight months before you could even get around to poking your wife pregnant.”

Arrow to the heart, Adam’s mouth opened and he paled.

“Or was it ten months?”

Footer narrowed his eyes in anger and he glared at Jonathan who winked. Ah yes, drop the puck. Jonathan was ready for this one. Foote found a way to get ahold of it and he blasted it from the point and Jonathan met it, snatched it and held it up winking again at Foote. Poor old Footer skated back to the bench with shrugged shoulders, and Jonathan laughed silently, ignoring the congratulations on his save from the well wishers and concerned parties.

Now Adam Foote understood the bedrock confidence that was Jonathan Roy, he would think twice now about approaching him, now he just had the rest of that team to work with.