The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife

Chapter 8:The First Game

~Eleanor~

The WFCU Center Arena looks ten times bigger than the South Victoria arena. The atmosphere is also a lot different. People wear their team's jersey, they paint their face red white and blue, some even wear wigs with those colors. It is a lot more intense than the Midget AAA hockey I am used to. I look odd in my pale pink dress and wool vest. People look at me as if I didn't belong here. They point at me when they walk by and they furrow their brows. Why would a girl like me come alone to a hockey game, I hear them ask themselves. Someone even asked me if I was at the right event. "The ice-skating recital is next week, beautiful. It's hockey today." I just rolled my eyes, you learn how to deal with douchebags when you spend as much time as me with hockey players. Since it's the first game of the season, the arena is at full capacity, every seat is filled. Ben got me a seat directly behind the players' zone. When he is not on the ice, he just has to turn around to see me. I have to force myself to breathe at a normal pace. The last time I was this nervous about hockey was at the national championship final last year and we won. Ten minutes before the game is supposed to start, a man in a grey suit sits next to me. He eyes me from top to bottom. I do everything possible to avoid eye contact with this strange man, but he has other plans. He holds out his hand for me to shake.

"You must be Eleanor, Benjamin told me I would be sitting next to his girlfriend. It's nice to meet you. I'm Connor." The agent. Ben told me some guy approached him to represent his interests when the time to sign his contract came a few months ago. I shake the man's hand, nodding my head. If he expects me to talk to him, he is dead wrong. I am the type of girl who doesn't talk to people unless they spoke to me before. To my greatest joy, we are asked to welcome the players onto the ice. It kills every conversation in the arena. They start with the visiting team as tradition wants it. The Sault Ste Marie Greyhounds are dressed in white and red jerseys. The crowd boos throughout the announcement, but I stay quiet. I never got why people try to intimidate the opposing team. If you deserve to win, then your talent will show it. Then, it's our turn. I can finally put a face on all the names Ben keeps talking about. Fred Blouin, a guy they drafted from Quebec is the tallest player on the team which is saying something when Ben is 6'1, Logan Macdonald looks very strong, Gabriel Dawson is the captain, Ludovic Cornwall is on Ben's trio, just to name a few. Then, it's his turn, my man. He picked the same number he always does, the 12, his birthday. He is that cliché. Johnson is written in big bold white letters just above the number. The announcer said Benji Johnson when he called him. Ever since he started playing hockey, people started calling him Benji and it stuck. Personally, I am not a fan of that nickname, that's why I call him Ben. I scream his name when he enters the ice. I even get up and wave, so he can see me. He raises his stick in the air pointing directly at me, making me smile. I get a few looks from the people around me who think they figured out why I am here. They probably think I am some sort of girl who comes to games to try and get one of the players. I have learned to not care what hockey fans think of me a long time ago.

During the national anthem, every player removes his helmet and every supporter gets up. It's always been my favorite moment in a game. I feel like it unites people, no matter what side you're on, we all get up, put our hand on our heart and listen. We all listen because, whether you're from Sault Ste Marie or from Windsor, if you're here tonight, it's because you love the sport. During those few minutes, we are one. We are one big crowd of hockey fans here to celebrate this sport. It doesn't last though. As soon as the puck hits the ice, the crowd divides. People think the crowd divides in two clans: the fans of one team on one side and the fans of the other on the other side, but it's more complicated than that. There are divisions in a team. Some people adore a player and others hate him. When the other team scores, some people blame the goaler, others blame the defense players. Some agree with the captain nomination others would have preferred someone else. This division is obvious in the bleachers. One time, I even witnessed two supporters of the same team start a fight with each other just because one said that the other's favorite player sucked. I have to admit that they were drunk. This is what hockey does to people. As much as it unites them, it can divide them in the worst way. And it seems worse as the levels go up. In Midget AAA, you never see people hitting the glass that separates us from the players, you never hear fans yelling at the referees, people don't encourage fights. The contrast is a lot to take in.

At the start of the third period, our team leads 2-1. Ben didn't score but I am not worried. He said himself that it would have been surprising to score on the first game. He played beautifully though. To me, it looked like he was always in the right place at the right time. He got a lot of ice time for a new player, the advantage of being on the first trio. We end up winning 3-1 which is great since the Greyhounds ranked higher than the Spitfires last year. After the game, I try to get into the locker-rooms as I always did in SV, but it seems trickier, apparently, I need a pass. The security guards knew me in South Victoria, here, I look like just another fan trying to get a glimpse of shirtless semi-pro hockey players. I dial Ben's number, but, of course, he doesn't pick up. He must be under the shower or listening to the game debriefing. I wait by the hard-looking security guard who refuses to walk away as long as I am standing there. Is he really afraid that I might do something armful to a gang of guys twice my weight, my height and, mostly, my strength? Ten minutes later, my phone rings.

"Where are you? I am waiting for you, we are going to the bar with some of the guys I'd like you to meet." The bar, really? Does he know it's Wednesday? Does he know I have school tomorrow?

"The guards won't let me through, I need a badge Ben." Even if I can't see him, I imagine him rolling his eyes. Hearing me saying Ben's name got the guard's attention. His eyes are now focused on me.

"Don't move, I'm coming to get you." He hangs up. Seconds later, I see him walking towards me. He raises his arms as if he was asking me what the problem was. I shake my head and point at the guard who turns around the moment he hears footsteps coming up behind him.

"She's with me. I'll get her a stupid badge tomorrow." He grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. We don't say a word until we are in front of the locker-rooms. He tells me to wait while he picks up his stuff. A couple of guys come out as I am waiting. The tall one, Fred something, winks at me.

"What are you doing here, beautiful? Want to come to the bar with me?" He adds a wink at the end of his sentence. I don't know if that technique usually works, but, even if I wasn't with Ben, his approach would gross me out more than arouse me. His French accent is very strong. He articulates every word carefully showing his basic level of English. I shake my head.

"No thanks. I'm waiting for someone." I point the closed door. I don't try to avoid eye contact, I would only be worse if I did. I keep my answers short and give him a closed-lip smile.

"Who is that? Maybe I know him." Oh, I am sure he does. What does this guy have with winking? It's the third time he does it in the same number of sentences. Is it a French thing? Does everyone wink that way in Quebec or is he just a douchebag who thinks very highly of himself? I saw the locker-room door opening when he asked his last question, but I didn't move. I stayed put.

"You know him. She's with me, man, back off." The three boys turn around. Ben has his back to the locker-room door, his sport's bag is hanging on his shoulder, he is holding his coat on his arm. He is wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt. If wearing a suit is mandatory before a game, the clothes in which you exit the arena don't matter at all. He holds out his hand, and I gladly reach for it, making my way through the three stunned boys.

Sorry for the wait xx