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“I skated too hard tonight, I know that…but it sure was fun.”
“I’ve got to get your mom to come out and watch you. She would have loved every minute of this game. Except for the four you spent on the penalty bench,” he adds with a laugh. “Speaking of…”
Dad looks up at the television and I follow his gaze, finding Stefan on his way to the box with Antoine Bowman, leaving the Union shorthanded for a few minutes. We watch as the team scrambles now that they’re playing three-on-five, and they hold Anaheim off, even after a few close calls in the crease. When Stefan streaks out of the box, he finds the puck as if it’s magnetized to his stick, and fires it into the net.
“He reminds me of the old days,” Dad says with a smile. “Like watching the Assembly Line.”
“He’s fun to watch.”
“This is a fun team. I’ve got a good feeling about them.” Dad is, like most Detroit sports fans, hopeful to the very last. Even when that hope seems impossible or improbable, Dad cheers on his teams and always hopes for the best.
When I wake in the morning, it takes more than a few minutes for me to get moving. Stretching my limbs in bed, my muscles tighten and take their time to relax again. After a quick breakfast and copious amounts of coffee, I drive across town for a morning physical therapy session.
Britt, my physical therapist, greets me with a smile and a sweep of her hand toward the bank of bikes in front of a wall of windows. As I slowly ride, I watch the sun paint streaks of orange and pink across the sky. The ten minute bike ride is the most relaxing part of every physical therapy session; ten minutes of relative silence as I ride and listen to whatever radio station is on in the gym. Today it’s classic rock.
And today, my quiet ride is interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Is that Francine, I see?” A voice calls from across the gym, as the sound of walker wheels makes its way closer to me.
“Good morning, Gladys,” I greet the older woman with a smile. “How’s the hip?”
“Eh, it’s been better. Yours?”
“I skated too hard last night.”
“How many penalty minutes did you get?” Gladys laughs, eyes glimmering with mischief.
“Only four.” I’m more proud of that than I should be, honestly.
“That’s all? You must not have skatedtoohard then.”
“Give the girl a break, Gladys,” Elaine, Gladys’ partner in PT hijinx, clicks through the gym with her cane and sits down beside me on the open bike. “Four PIMs is quite respectable.”
“Thank you, Elaine.”
Gladys and Elaine have been mainstays at the physical therapy center since I started coming here; Gladys is rehabbing from hip replacement and Elaine from knee surgery. Both are Detroit sports fans, and neither holds back on their criticism of the teams, or their love of the players.
“What’s new since we saw you last, Francine?” Elaine starts pedaling just as my time is winding down.
“I got a job.”
“Congratulations,” they chorus and hold out hands on either side of me for a fist bump and high five. “Where at?”
“Renaissance Arena. I’m the new home penalty box attendant.”
“Ooh! A front row seat to The Assembly Line reincarnated.” Before I can ask Gladys to expound on her statement, Britt interrupts and gets me started on my exercises, putting me through the wringer today, but it’s worth it when I finally lay down at the end of my session and am allowed to ice my hip. Gladys and Elaine join me when their own sessions are over, pulling their chairs close to the table where I’m laying so that we can catch up a bit more.
“What’s it like being in the sin bin with the boys?” Elaine asks, getting a chuckle out of me with her use of the nickname for the penalty box.
“All I do is keep the time and open the door, Elaine.”
“Sure, sure. But that center…what’s his name Gladys?”
“Morrow,” Gladys answers with a fond smile. “Stefan Morrow.”
“Yeah! He’s the one. What’s he like?” Elaine scoots her chair the tiniest bit closer to me.
“He’s very nice,” I answer quietly. I’ve only interacted with him off the ice a few times and each time I’ve been surprised by the man I’ve met. On the ice he has a presence, a reputation as evidenced by Gladys and Elaine’s questions, but off the ice that imposing presence is softened. “Not at all what I expected.”
