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2minsforslashing2006-05-16 03:10 pm
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TITLE: Chronicles of East Rutherford
AUTHOR: Jennie
CHARACTERS: The New Jersey Devils, but especially Martin Brodeur (the speaker), and Patrik Elias of the New Jersey Devils.
SUMMARY: This takes place post game 5 of the 2nd round. No one expected the Devils to go as far as they did. But saying things like that don’t make the loss any easier.
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: If I owned the things mentioned in this story, I might be called a pimpette. But I’m not, so I don’t. Oh, and I’m not a fly on the wall, so my guess is that this is all fiction.
A/N: Sarge is Sergei Brylin (rarely speaks to media, though he’s been on all of the Devils cup teams), Dano is Ken Daneyko (played 21 seasons with the Devils), Kozzy is Viktor Kozlov (hasn’t produced for the Devils, but a fellow Russian of Serge’s who never speaks to the media.), Marty (if you don’t know Marty, you’re living under a rock. If goalies were captains, he’d be one. Always speaks to the media and isn’t afraid to be honest.) has 12 years left on his contract and a no trade clause, Petr is Petr Sykora, Jason is Jason Arnott, and, along with Patty, they made up the A-Line, this amazing offensive line for NJ during the 99-01 seasons. Jason was traded (with Randy McKay) to Dallas, Petr was traded to Anaheim, and Patty’s stayed here. Nieds is Scott Niedermayer who left us to play with his brother in Anaheim (I’m still bitter. He was the backbone of our defense.) and Scotty Stevens? He’s our version of the Rangers’ “Captain.”
It was over.
In the blink of an eye, we had gone from serious contender to just another failure. In 60 minutes, we went from confident to downtrodden. We returned to the locker room with tears in our eyes. For three minutes after the media had left, silence filled the room as we sat on benches in wrinkled suits that had been hastily thrown into luggage bags. An occasional sniffle could be heard from one of the younger guys, because the veterans knew better than to let their emotions show.
Sarge, of all people, walked to the center of the room. His shoulder pads hung limply on his small frame, freckles seeming to stand out more broadly on his ashen skin. He was the last to voice his opinion, but he’d been on the team long enough to know the right time to say something. He’d been captained by the great Scott Stevens, shared the ice with Dano, and centered a line with Randy McKay. He knew what it took to win three Cups and knew what it felt like to lose in the finals. He cleared his throat and let his fingers roam through his playoff stubble.
“I know this year may not have started or ended the way we wanted it to, but that mean we didn’t accomplish something. We won fifteen games in a row, swept the Rangers,” a few guys let out a hoot, showing their pleasure in sweeping our most hated rival. “And we bonded more as a group than ever before. I can come away from this season and know that I have twenty best friends.”
He stopped and looked over to Kozzy, and smiled. We all knew they were more than best friends, but none of us cared. We all saw what they meant to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Each of us improved so much this year, whether as players or as people. None of us should step off the plane in Newark feeling as if we didn’t accomplish something. Thank you for a wonderful season.”
Sarge lowered his eyes and sat beside Kozzy. I looked around the room, watching as each person reflected on Sarge’s speech. Each seemed to focus on a high point in their season because their eyes lit up and a few chuckled inwardly, their stomachs jiggling. Kozzy placed a hand on Sarge’s thigh and squeezed it gently, showing his support. Sarge looked at Kozzy, love in his eyes, and then glanced over to me expectantly, as if suggesting that, as the guy who’d been here the longest, I was obligated to speak.
Granted, Sarge and I had been through enough tough losses and been in enough tired locker rooms to know the right words to say. He said the words that the guys wanted to hear. But now it was time for the things that needed to be said. “These things never get easier.” A few guys looked up at the sound of my voice, but most kept their heads down.
“You could have the greatest season in the history of the world: score eight-hundred goals or have 82 shutouts. But they mean nothing once weather gets warm and the playoffs roll around. If you come to the payoffs thinking you’re invincible, you’re screwed. That’s what we did. We came to Carolina and thought we were superheroes. But they exposed every one of our weaknesses. Honestly, this year was never meant to be our year. We lost Nieds and Scotty; we weren’t expected to bounce back from that loss right away.
“We’ve had our time, and this year wasn’t supposed to be it. But now, we can focus on all of our problems and fix them, and come back even better next year. Then, when the weather gets warm next year, we can have our time. You guys can stay depressed for a few more hours, but remember that we have a whole year ahead of us to prepare for our time.” By this point, the rookies had stopped sniffling. Silently, I collected my duffel and began walking to the bus.
“You know,” I turned around and saw Patty jogging to catch up to me. “That confidence is gonna get you in trouble one day.” We walked side by side and I waited until we were out of harm’s way to let my hand fall into place with his. “But if it does, I know you’ll always be jogging to catch up to me when I walk away.” He smiled and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “What would you do if I went to be with Petr or Jason instead?” “I’d follow you.”
He stopped and laughed. “You can’t do that. You have twelve years left here.” I smiled and continued walking with him towards the bus. He sighed audibly and mumbled, “This season really sucked.” I fell silent, trying to find the words that needed to be said. We had finally reached the bus, and I chose a window seat. He sat beside me and, laying his long legs across the aisle of the bus, dropped his head in my lap. I twisted a finger around one of his dark curls and watched his eyes closed.
“It did. But next year will be so much better.”
AUTHOR: Jennie
CHARACTERS: The New Jersey Devils, but especially Martin Brodeur (the speaker), and Patrik Elias of the New Jersey Devils.
SUMMARY: This takes place post game 5 of the 2nd round. No one expected the Devils to go as far as they did. But saying things like that don’t make the loss any easier.
RATING: G
DISCLAIMER: If I owned the things mentioned in this story, I might be called a pimpette. But I’m not, so I don’t. Oh, and I’m not a fly on the wall, so my guess is that this is all fiction.
A/N: Sarge is Sergei Brylin (rarely speaks to media, though he’s been on all of the Devils cup teams), Dano is Ken Daneyko (played 21 seasons with the Devils), Kozzy is Viktor Kozlov (hasn’t produced for the Devils, but a fellow Russian of Serge’s who never speaks to the media.), Marty (if you don’t know Marty, you’re living under a rock. If goalies were captains, he’d be one. Always speaks to the media and isn’t afraid to be honest.) has 12 years left on his contract and a no trade clause, Petr is Petr Sykora, Jason is Jason Arnott, and, along with Patty, they made up the A-Line, this amazing offensive line for NJ during the 99-01 seasons. Jason was traded (with Randy McKay) to Dallas, Petr was traded to Anaheim, and Patty’s stayed here. Nieds is Scott Niedermayer who left us to play with his brother in Anaheim (I’m still bitter. He was the backbone of our defense.) and Scotty Stevens? He’s our version of the Rangers’ “Captain.”
It was over.
In the blink of an eye, we had gone from serious contender to just another failure. In 60 minutes, we went from confident to downtrodden. We returned to the locker room with tears in our eyes. For three minutes after the media had left, silence filled the room as we sat on benches in wrinkled suits that had been hastily thrown into luggage bags. An occasional sniffle could be heard from one of the younger guys, because the veterans knew better than to let their emotions show.
Sarge, of all people, walked to the center of the room. His shoulder pads hung limply on his small frame, freckles seeming to stand out more broadly on his ashen skin. He was the last to voice his opinion, but he’d been on the team long enough to know the right time to say something. He’d been captained by the great Scott Stevens, shared the ice with Dano, and centered a line with Randy McKay. He knew what it took to win three Cups and knew what it felt like to lose in the finals. He cleared his throat and let his fingers roam through his playoff stubble.
“I know this year may not have started or ended the way we wanted it to, but that mean we didn’t accomplish something. We won fifteen games in a row, swept the Rangers,” a few guys let out a hoot, showing their pleasure in sweeping our most hated rival. “And we bonded more as a group than ever before. I can come away from this season and know that I have twenty best friends.”
He stopped and looked over to Kozzy, and smiled. We all knew they were more than best friends, but none of us cared. We all saw what they meant to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Each of us improved so much this year, whether as players or as people. None of us should step off the plane in Newark feeling as if we didn’t accomplish something. Thank you for a wonderful season.”
Sarge lowered his eyes and sat beside Kozzy. I looked around the room, watching as each person reflected on Sarge’s speech. Each seemed to focus on a high point in their season because their eyes lit up and a few chuckled inwardly, their stomachs jiggling. Kozzy placed a hand on Sarge’s thigh and squeezed it gently, showing his support. Sarge looked at Kozzy, love in his eyes, and then glanced over to me expectantly, as if suggesting that, as the guy who’d been here the longest, I was obligated to speak.
Granted, Sarge and I had been through enough tough losses and been in enough tired locker rooms to know the right words to say. He said the words that the guys wanted to hear. But now it was time for the things that needed to be said. “These things never get easier.” A few guys looked up at the sound of my voice, but most kept their heads down.
“You could have the greatest season in the history of the world: score eight-hundred goals or have 82 shutouts. But they mean nothing once weather gets warm and the playoffs roll around. If you come to the payoffs thinking you’re invincible, you’re screwed. That’s what we did. We came to Carolina and thought we were superheroes. But they exposed every one of our weaknesses. Honestly, this year was never meant to be our year. We lost Nieds and Scotty; we weren’t expected to bounce back from that loss right away.
“We’ve had our time, and this year wasn’t supposed to be it. But now, we can focus on all of our problems and fix them, and come back even better next year. Then, when the weather gets warm next year, we can have our time. You guys can stay depressed for a few more hours, but remember that we have a whole year ahead of us to prepare for our time.” By this point, the rookies had stopped sniffling. Silently, I collected my duffel and began walking to the bus.
“You know,” I turned around and saw Patty jogging to catch up to me. “That confidence is gonna get you in trouble one day.” We walked side by side and I waited until we were out of harm’s way to let my hand fall into place with his. “But if it does, I know you’ll always be jogging to catch up to me when I walk away.” He smiled and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “What would you do if I went to be with Petr or Jason instead?” “I’d follow you.”
He stopped and laughed. “You can’t do that. You have twelve years left here.” I smiled and continued walking with him towards the bus. He sighed audibly and mumbled, “This season really sucked.” I fell silent, trying to find the words that needed to be said. We had finally reached the bus, and I chose a window seat. He sat beside me and, laying his long legs across the aisle of the bus, dropped his head in my lap. I twisted a finger around one of his dark curls and watched his eyes closed.
“It did. But next year will be so much better.”