Part 9 - Pure Gold

The game wasn’t really that great. I mean, it was Switzerland and Finland. Maybe if I actually cared about one of the countries I may have been a little more interested. The guys were clearly more interested then I was. They watched both teams (knowing that they were going to have to face the Fins again in the Round Robin) carefully, noting the systems, the power play set up, even the tendencies of the goaltenders.

Me? I watched Sidney. He never acted his age. At least not that I’d seen. He was so confident and mature. Far more so then any other 17-year-old that I’d ever met. But every now and then I’d catch him looking at me, or laughing at something that someone else said and I’d catch a glimpse of the kid, of the 17-year-old that seemed to be hiding in this sophisticated, world wise young man. Part of me felt guilty.

Actually, most of me felt guilty. But then he’d smile at me with a smile so sweet that it could almost break your heart. I couldn’t tell you how the game ended. I wasn’t paying attention. I sat back and watched Sidney. That was my form of amusement for the evening. Pathetic? Yes. But it was what I did.

At the end of the night, when Sid, D, Brent and I got back to the hotel, D looked at me and yawned. “We play tomorrow Drew, so I’m gonna call it a night.”

Brent didn’t say anything until D nudged him with an elbow. “Oh yeah.” He said. “I should um, get to bed too. Darryl you’ll make sure that Drew gets up to her room alright?”

Sidney rolled his eyes. “Yeah no problem.” He said shaking his head. “Next time guys, try not to be quite so obvious.” He called as they made their way to the stairs.

“Morons.” I muttered as we made our way to the elevator.

Sidney shrugged. “You must admit, they do mean well.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t well meaning morons.” I pointed out. “But D was right about something.” I said. “You guys play tomorrow night. You should probably get to bed.”

“Yes Mom.” He said sarcastically.

I hit him playfully on the arm. “Don’t call me that.” I said.

He laughed. “Well if you’re gonna tell me when to go to bed, then you’re just gonna have to deal with me calling you “Mom”.”

I hit him playfully again. “There are a lot of things I’d like to hear you call me.” I whispered a little more flirtatiously then I intended. “And none of them are Mom.”

He grinned and I knew full well exactly what he was thinking and it wasn’t exactly rated PG. “I guess you shouldn’t tell me to go to bed then.” He said out loud before leaning over to whispered in my ear. “Unless of course, you intend to join me.”

“Sidney!” I gasped outraged, taking a step back.

He just looked down at me innocently. “What?” He asked.

I stuck my tongue out at him. He’d told me that he was going to behave and here he was doing anything but. Of course, my comment hadn’t exactly been proof of my ability to behave either, so I guess I couldn’t fault him that much. “Ass.” I said.

He just shrugged and grinned at me arrogantly. “Whatever you say Drew.”

“You know if you played for Red Deer you’d be calling me Miss Whitney.” I informed him.

He made a face. “That doesn’t fit you anymore then Delreinne does.” He informed me. “In fact, I have a hard time picturing you as a teacher at all.”

I hip checked him slightly. “Good.” I said. “Then I won’t have to spend two months curing you of calling me Miss Whitney the way I did with last year’s grade 12’s. It’s really awkward going over to D’s and sitting down for a few drinks with people who call you Miss Whitney.” I paused. “Or worse, they come over to your place for a few drinks and then call you Miss Whitney all night.” I laughed. “I think I told one of the boys that he was starting to make me feel like I was in a fucked up Jane Austen novel.”

“Jane who?” Sidney asked, looking a little confused; though he had smiled and laughed at most of the rest of my story.

“Austen.” I said. “She wrote ‘Pride and Prejudice’ among other things. Regency era romances where it was considered improper to call anyone but immediately family and your fiancé or fiancée by their first name.”

Now he laughed. “So if we lived in a Jane Austen novel I’d be calling you Miss Whitney and you’d be calling me Mr. Crosby?” He said.

“Or Master Crosby since you aren’t legally of age.” I replied. “At least I think that’s how it worked. But then again, I teach Canadian History mainly.”

He laughed. “The country’s not that old.” He pointed out, as kids always do. “How much could have happened?”

I shook my head. “You clearly don’t have your Grade 12 Canadian Studies course this semester huh?”

He shrugged. “If you say a lot happened, I’ll take your word for it.” He said, smiling charmingly at me.

“Sid it’s not just about a lot of stuff happening.” I said. “It’s about a lot of things happening that still impact our lives now. Particularly out west when it comes to aboriginal people and government treaties. It impacts how we live our lives and to a certain extent how we see aboriginal people.”

Sidney looked at me funny. “Neufy and Brook say you’re kind of racist though.”

“I am not racist.” I said indignantly. “I just hate every native who lives in PA. I’m cool with the rest of them.”

Sidney laughed. “Well when you put it that way….”

I elbowed him in the stomach as we exited the elevator on my floor. “Ass.” I said again. “Did D happen to mention that he’s just as bad as I am?” I asked. “And ask Ryan about aboriginal people in Saskatchewan and then you’ll understand.”

“What would Ryan know?” He asked.

“Getter’s from Regina.” I said. “Have you ever been there? The city’s fricking crawling with Indians. Every time I’ve been there I’ve been harassed by either a drunk Indian or some big ass Indian woman who I’ve offended somehow.”

Sidney laughed. “I can’t say I’ve ever been to Regina, though I think my parents considered sending me to Notre Dame which is at Wilcox outside the city.”

“Didn’t like, Vincent LeCavelier and Brad Richards go to school there?” I asked.

Sidney nodded. “I think so. And I think that Patrick Roy’s son is out there now. Or maybe that was last year.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I said. “Greasy hall of famers to be’s kids are not my concern.”

Sidney laughed. “He is kinda greasy isn’t he?” He said. “But a phenomenal tender.”

“I never said he wasn’t. In fact, I think I said that he was going to the Hall, so clearly I think he’s got skill.” I said. “I just think he’s kind of greasy too.”

He laughed. “So what’s your dream?” He asked, suddenly serious, as we arrived at my hotel room door.

“What do you mean, what’s my dream?” I asked curious.

“Well my dream is to play in the NHL.” He said. “Pro hockey. What’s your dream?”

I took a second to think. “Honestly? My dream used to be becoming a teacher.” I said. “But now it’s more specific. Now I want to teach high performance athletes.” I paused. “I mean, because of figure skating and then track, I’ve always been interested in helping athletes with school. Now having taught a lot of the Rebels and seeing how hard it can be for them, well that just makes me want to do it even more. Edmonton has a hockey school and a sports school and Calgary has a sports school. I’d love to teach at something like that.”

“That’s a pretty cool dream if you ask me.” He said, leaning against the wall.

I decided that this conversation was probably going to take awhile, so I slid off D’s jacket and slid down so I was sitting, the jacket covering my legs. “Thanks.” I said. “I like kids and that’s why I became a teacher.”

“Do you want kids of your own?” He asked.

“Well yeah.” I said. “But not right now.”

“Why not right now?” He asked, looking curious.

“Well most of my friends from high school are either already married, or have kids or are getting
married and want kids right away or some combination of that.” I said. “And they are always
pushing me to join them and I don’t want too. I’m having too much fun being young and hanging out with D.” I explained. “Most of my married friends are sick of me and my partying, so my good friends keep getting younger and younger.” I paused. “What about you? You want kids?”

“Someday.” He laughed. “Like you. I don’t want to be like Lebron James and be like, 19 and married with a kid on the way. I really don’t want to be a Dad before I’m 20.”

“Well if you ask some people they’d tell you he’s smart to do it that way.” I pointed out. “I mean, he’s been dating this girl since Grade 9.” I said. “Before anyone knew anything about Lebron James. Before anyone cared. And they’ve been together ever since, so he knows she loves him for who he is. He doesn’t have to worry about gold diggers.”

“I guess.” Sidney said. “But really, how mature are either of them if all they’ve ever known is each other?”

I smirked. “I highly doubt she’s the only girl he’s ever been with.”

“And then it’s even worse.” Sidney said. “Because she either knows it and doesn’t care because of who he is NOW or she doesn’t know and he’s betraying her trust every single time he messes around.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And you’ve never met a hockey player who messes around on his girlfriend?”

Sidney shrugged. “Which is why I don’t have a girlfriend.” He said. “And why I haven’t. People have known who I was since I was 14, though the attention didn’t get really intense until I was 15 and drafted by Rimouski, which is good, because bleached blond shag was not a good look for me in retrospect.”

I laughed. “I’ve got to see that.”

“Hey!” He said indignantly, elbowing me in the side. “Don’t make fun of my awkward phase and I won’t make fun of yours.”

“Oh lord.” I muttered thinking back to my awkward phase, big glasses, long stringy hair, didn’t know how to put on make up. “Let us never speak of the awkward phases again.” I said.

He laughed. “Deal.”

“So you really haven’t had a girlfriend?” I asked, crossing and uncrossing my legs under the jacket, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Not really.” He said, unable to keep from looking at my legs. “I mean, I’ve gone on dates and stuff. Sometimes two or three with the same girl, but usually they say something to someone about how they’re so cool because they’re dating the phenom and it always gets back to me. Rimouski’s not a big city or anything. Then I don’t know who they’re dating… me or Sidney Crosby.”

I nodded. It made sense. “I’m sorry.” I said inadequately. “That’s even more unfair to you then the whole “next one” thing.”

He shrugged. “It’s part of my life, just like the pressure from the media.” He said, looking away. “I deal with it.”

I glanced at my watch. “Sid, I hate to say it, because you’ll probably call me Mom again, but you really need to go to bed.”

He raised his eyebrows deviously. “Drew the only time I want to here those words on your lips is when you’re coming with me.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Well that’s definitely not going to happen when you’re under Coach’s watch or underage. And I don’t want Coach to call me a distraction and tell D that I have to go home.”

“But we’re having such a nice talk.” He said, pouting slightly and looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“Yes.” I said in my teacher voice. “We are. But you have to play tomorrow.”

“Do I have to?” He whined.

“Yes.” I said firmly. “Because if you don’t, Coach is going to send me home and you don’t want that now do you?”

“No.” He said leaning over and dropping a quick kiss on my forehead and leaving before I could protest. “I definitely do not want that.”