One on One by V. L. Locey

Author:V. L. Locey [Locey, V. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-13T18:30:00+00:00

One thing about Mario McGarrity: he was a man of his word. Generally, I’d say that was an admirable trait, but in this instance it really wasn’t. Not that Brian Butress of the Augusta Cottonmouths didn’t need a fist to his filthy mouth, he did. Just not in the first period of the first game of the eastern semifinals. I’d heard the nasty slur Brian had slung at Mario. We all had. Brian had rolled McGarrity into the boards right in front of our bench, sending Mario ass over tin cups into the laps of his teammates.

Brian then hurled a snarling “tranny fucker” at McGarrity, who came over the boards like a raving maniac, and proceeded to pound on Brian unmercifully, all within a foot of our bench. Of course, Mario was slapped with an instigator penalty and evicted from the game. Brian, the hateful pig, was taken back to have his face sewn up, and returned to thunderous applause from the home crowd. I was sickened by the thought that my kids, Betty, and James were seated right behind us. Had they heard that slur? Had the other children nearby? My stomach turned, just thinking that I had played for this team. True, when I’d been signed, things hadn’t been like this. But new management had taken over, and with this putrid new coach, the team had sunk in respectability but soared in the standings.

We argued and screamed at the officials, citing the slur that we all had clearly heard but no one else in the noisy arena had. Needless to say, things went downhill fast from that point because my team, my wonderfully inclusive team, was livid. And hotheads do not win hockey games. They simply don’t. Winners have to be cool and collected to focus. All the Cougars were too hot under the collar to concentrate. We looked like baboons out there. It was a debacle.

After the game, and Dewey’s highly agitated speech in the dressing room, I gave Mario a jerk of my head to indicate he was to follow me. I stormed out of the away locker room, McGarrity, still in his sweaty and bloody jersey, was right behind me. I rounded on the man as soon as we were clear of the dressing room.

“I distinctly told you that we were to not engage them when they provoked us,” I snarled.

“And I told you that the first one to speak badly of Lila was getting his fucking clock cleaned.” He folded his arms over his chest, daring me to come back at him. I liked Mario, I did. But I was the associate coach. That demanded respect. Perhaps he was still hopped-up on adrenaline or he simply thought a laid-back Southern boy like me didn’t have it in him to slap him down. He was sorely mistaken.

“Yes you did, and I’m now telling you that you’re sitting out the next game so that you can reflect on how to better respond to someone like Brian yanking your chain.

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