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Mar. 30th, 2006 04:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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2minsforslashingTitle: Unity
Author: Rabbit (as Styxion on LJ)
Rating: PG-13 (for language and implied slash)
Pairing: The Dallas Stars
Summery: The team played as one, but the leaders of the team have decided to enact an old hockey ritual to take the team to the next level of 'togetherness'.
Disclaimer: Not real. Although you have to wonder how close it might be to the truth.....oh yeah, no money being made, all Tom Hicks, and the players themselves.
--------
After a game, the locker room is the busiest place in the arena. Reporters doing interviews, players attempting to both clean themselves and be interviewed, and miscellaneous members of staff scurrying around with broken sticks and sweaty jerseys. For the Finns of Dallas, this was hell. A quiet bunch by nature, their comments were usually limited to quick barbs that sent their teammates into fits of laughter that could not be quelled for several minutes. On most nights, win or lose, the Finns could be seen (if you looked hard enough that is) dressing quickly, sneaking out of the confusion and down the hall, past Ralph Strangis doing his post-game show, and into the parking garage, only to drive off into the night without a word. But on March 29, 2006, after a choppy game versus Anaheim, the Finns were anything but quiet.
Sergei Zubov had managed to send the press out of the room with a few soft words, while Boucher had made use of the lock on the door. Within moments of the lock’s slide home, a roar was heard from Niklas Hagman, followed by Miettinen, only to be topped by Niko Kapanen. The three were smiling from ear to ear, laughing and celebrating their game and goals. Jere Lehtinen, known as the Godfather by all, raised a lone hand to silence the mirth.
The team sat, faces solemn as they awaited the words of their usually quiet leader. At last, in English touched with Finnish, he spoke to his audience.
“Brothers, tonight we celebrate the skill and heart of my fellow countrymen. We celebrate a win against a strong enemy. But most of all, we celebrate our strength as a team.”
The words were spoken with an almost cult-like air about them, added too by the slight nods from the younger men in the room and the knowing glances by veterans. Still, no one moved, waiting from him to finish.
“In honor of our unity, our prowess as one on the ice, we celebrate our strength and bond off the ice. Let it begin.”
With this, the eldest Finn threw a rare grin to his charges and sat.
Silence reigned for a few moments as the youth in the room pondered what the hell had overcome the Jere Lehtinen they knew and loved, while the older players just sat, eyeing the younger players in the room like a lion cuts the weak meat from the herd.
Modano was the first to stand, as the custom dictates. Chin brushed with the beginnings of a beard, he smiled and stepped to the center of the room.
“Brenden.”
The younger, and shorter, man stood without a word and joined Mike. Without a word to each other they proceeded to unlock the door and leave into the night.
Again the closing of the door marked the beginning of sound.
“I hate it when he pulls that shit. He always picks Mini!” Arnott had stood, his tone laced with affection despite his words.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Turco was still sitting, half puzzled, half angry.
The voices of Steve Ott, Trevor Daley, and many others joined the ranks of Turco, each wanting answers to this most disturbing question.
Again Lehtinen silenced them with a soothing tone, “Turks, Otter, calm yourselves. This is a way as old as the game we play. It was created by the great players of times gone by to celebrate a team’s way as one. It is used little in these times, as teams rarely reach the level of unity needed to complete the celebration.”
“Jere, where did Mike and Brenden go?” Jokinen spoke now, voice tinged with innocence and a little fear.
“No worries little one. Mike merely took advantage of his right as our Captian to first choice.”
“Enough with the Yoda talk Lehts, let’s get this show on the road!” Guerin was slowly inching towards Ott, but his large frame kept him from being sneaky about it.
Zubov sighed, his famous patience being stretched thin by his friend’s compulsion for the details. “The eldest have rights to a player of their choice for one night only. The process continues until all have been chosen. Pick and leave, though try not to get arrested this time my friends.”
With this the Russian motioned for Svoboda and led the confused man through the door, taking a moment to hand him both bags before shutting the door behind them.
“This is fucked up.” Mitchell stood in a corner, arms folded in anger. “I hate getting picked last.”
“Not to worry, you’re mine tonight,” Klemm held a large overnight bag out to Willie, smirk in full effect.
Willie raised an eyebrow at the bag, glancing at his new team. “How long have you guys been planning this?”
“We knew it would have to be done when you came. Too many pieces had come together to put it off any longer.”
And so it went, pairs of players leaving through the locker room doors into an uncertain fate. Soon only a few remained. Guerin, Lehtinen, Jokinen, Ott, Turco and Hedberg.
Ott eyed Guerin, then the goalies, obviously confused by the pause in pairing. Jokinen glanced at Lehtinen, then the goalies, while both goalies look to Lehtinen to solve their confusion.
“We have a problem it would seem.” Marty rolled his eyes at the statement. “Marty is the starter, yet the younger of the two. Johan is more experienced and older, but he is the alternate.’
“You can say backup Lehts, I’m okay with my deal.” Johan was grinning a bit at Jere’s short stint with political correctness.
Several minutes of series consideration led to a breakthrough. “Ah-ha! Johan wins. Marty needs it.” Billy G looked severely pleased with himself after that vague statement, but the Godfather did not disagree. Marty shook his head, walking past his locker to pick up his things.
“And you people say that goalies are odd.” He held open the door for his partner, who paused to add to the statement. “We must be the only sane guys on this team.”
Billy grabbed Ott’s arm, wild grin on his face, throwing a short goodbye over his shoulder to the remaining pair before shoving his prize out the door and running out.
“Jere?”
“No worries Money.” The younger man attempted to speak but was cut off by a hand.
“Now we go home and I show you the meaning of true unity.”
-----
A/N's: Hopefully there will be a series of one-shots that continue the story a couple at a time.
And Jussi Jokinen being nicknamed Money seems to be a running joke for some, as he was truely 'money' for the shootout.
Author: Rabbit (as Styxion on LJ)
Rating: PG-13 (for language and implied slash)
Pairing: The Dallas Stars
Summery: The team played as one, but the leaders of the team have decided to enact an old hockey ritual to take the team to the next level of 'togetherness'.
Disclaimer: Not real. Although you have to wonder how close it might be to the truth.....oh yeah, no money being made, all Tom Hicks, and the players themselves.
--------
After a game, the locker room is the busiest place in the arena. Reporters doing interviews, players attempting to both clean themselves and be interviewed, and miscellaneous members of staff scurrying around with broken sticks and sweaty jerseys. For the Finns of Dallas, this was hell. A quiet bunch by nature, their comments were usually limited to quick barbs that sent their teammates into fits of laughter that could not be quelled for several minutes. On most nights, win or lose, the Finns could be seen (if you looked hard enough that is) dressing quickly, sneaking out of the confusion and down the hall, past Ralph Strangis doing his post-game show, and into the parking garage, only to drive off into the night without a word. But on March 29, 2006, after a choppy game versus Anaheim, the Finns were anything but quiet.
Sergei Zubov had managed to send the press out of the room with a few soft words, while Boucher had made use of the lock on the door. Within moments of the lock’s slide home, a roar was heard from Niklas Hagman, followed by Miettinen, only to be topped by Niko Kapanen. The three were smiling from ear to ear, laughing and celebrating their game and goals. Jere Lehtinen, known as the Godfather by all, raised a lone hand to silence the mirth.
The team sat, faces solemn as they awaited the words of their usually quiet leader. At last, in English touched with Finnish, he spoke to his audience.
“Brothers, tonight we celebrate the skill and heart of my fellow countrymen. We celebrate a win against a strong enemy. But most of all, we celebrate our strength as a team.”
The words were spoken with an almost cult-like air about them, added too by the slight nods from the younger men in the room and the knowing glances by veterans. Still, no one moved, waiting from him to finish.
“In honor of our unity, our prowess as one on the ice, we celebrate our strength and bond off the ice. Let it begin.”
With this, the eldest Finn threw a rare grin to his charges and sat.
Silence reigned for a few moments as the youth in the room pondered what the hell had overcome the Jere Lehtinen they knew and loved, while the older players just sat, eyeing the younger players in the room like a lion cuts the weak meat from the herd.
Modano was the first to stand, as the custom dictates. Chin brushed with the beginnings of a beard, he smiled and stepped to the center of the room.
“Brenden.”
The younger, and shorter, man stood without a word and joined Mike. Without a word to each other they proceeded to unlock the door and leave into the night.
Again the closing of the door marked the beginning of sound.
“I hate it when he pulls that shit. He always picks Mini!” Arnott had stood, his tone laced with affection despite his words.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Turco was still sitting, half puzzled, half angry.
The voices of Steve Ott, Trevor Daley, and many others joined the ranks of Turco, each wanting answers to this most disturbing question.
Again Lehtinen silenced them with a soothing tone, “Turks, Otter, calm yourselves. This is a way as old as the game we play. It was created by the great players of times gone by to celebrate a team’s way as one. It is used little in these times, as teams rarely reach the level of unity needed to complete the celebration.”
“Jere, where did Mike and Brenden go?” Jokinen spoke now, voice tinged with innocence and a little fear.
“No worries little one. Mike merely took advantage of his right as our Captian to first choice.”
“Enough with the Yoda talk Lehts, let’s get this show on the road!” Guerin was slowly inching towards Ott, but his large frame kept him from being sneaky about it.
Zubov sighed, his famous patience being stretched thin by his friend’s compulsion for the details. “The eldest have rights to a player of their choice for one night only. The process continues until all have been chosen. Pick and leave, though try not to get arrested this time my friends.”
With this the Russian motioned for Svoboda and led the confused man through the door, taking a moment to hand him both bags before shutting the door behind them.
“This is fucked up.” Mitchell stood in a corner, arms folded in anger. “I hate getting picked last.”
“Not to worry, you’re mine tonight,” Klemm held a large overnight bag out to Willie, smirk in full effect.
Willie raised an eyebrow at the bag, glancing at his new team. “How long have you guys been planning this?”
“We knew it would have to be done when you came. Too many pieces had come together to put it off any longer.”
And so it went, pairs of players leaving through the locker room doors into an uncertain fate. Soon only a few remained. Guerin, Lehtinen, Jokinen, Ott, Turco and Hedberg.
Ott eyed Guerin, then the goalies, obviously confused by the pause in pairing. Jokinen glanced at Lehtinen, then the goalies, while both goalies look to Lehtinen to solve their confusion.
“We have a problem it would seem.” Marty rolled his eyes at the statement. “Marty is the starter, yet the younger of the two. Johan is more experienced and older, but he is the alternate.’
“You can say backup Lehts, I’m okay with my deal.” Johan was grinning a bit at Jere’s short stint with political correctness.
Several minutes of series consideration led to a breakthrough. “Ah-ha! Johan wins. Marty needs it.” Billy G looked severely pleased with himself after that vague statement, but the Godfather did not disagree. Marty shook his head, walking past his locker to pick up his things.
“And you people say that goalies are odd.” He held open the door for his partner, who paused to add to the statement. “We must be the only sane guys on this team.”
Billy grabbed Ott’s arm, wild grin on his face, throwing a short goodbye over his shoulder to the remaining pair before shoving his prize out the door and running out.
“Jere?”
“No worries Money.” The younger man attempted to speak but was cut off by a hand.
“Now we go home and I show you the meaning of true unity.”
-----
A/N's: Hopefully there will be a series of one-shots that continue the story a couple at a time.
And Jussi Jokinen being nicknamed Money seems to be a running joke for some, as he was truely 'money' for the shootout.
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