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Ryan, on the other hand, loses it, and laughs uncontrollably. He holds his phone up and snaps a picture. “Fantastic.” He grins.
It really is fantastic.
Nikolai
I’d like to think that being Brandon’s teammate, and also having grown closer to Ander, I’d be used to the fact that the Bouchards never stop. Ever. Between the four of them there is always activity. There is always noise. There is always something going on involving at least one.
Today, it’s pond hockey, and it’s a big affair. When Brandon said pack my skates, I thought he meant we’d be practicing somewhere. When Ander mentioned a game, I assumed he meant something between the four of us and the two billets staying with his parents. I was not expecting this.
On a decent-sized pond, a few blocks’ walk away from the Bouchards’ bungalow, is an entire set-up on the frozen water. It’s been shoveled. Someone has smoothed it over. There are two nets set up and there are even some painted lines demarcating the three zones along with five faceoff dots.
Sure, it’s not a full regulation setup. There are no circles in the defensive zones. No boards along the edges. And it’s short four faceoff dots, but it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect for what this is: a full-scale community event. It appears their entire neighborhood has arrived to watch us play. There are tons of people here. Most importantly, tons of kids. A lot of them are dressed in their hockey gear.
“Alright!” Ander yells out, grabbing everyone’s attention. He’s wearing a Buffalo Blizzards jersey and an old, beat-up set of pads that he pulled out of the basement. Smiling ear to ear, he scans the crowd with his finger pointed. “Did everyone come here to play?”
All the kids raise their hands and cheer their excitement.
“Excellent!” Ander yells out. He is completely infectious. “The first thing we are going to do is divide up into teams! And don’t worry. Everyone is going to get to play.”
Brandon and Ryan go to the crowd and start pulling the kids out to center ice while David and Cole make sure the nets are secure.
“Perfect,” Ander says. He skates to his brother and Ryan, then pushes them to either side of him. He grins at them. “I’m splitting you two up.”
“Hey!” Brandon protests, but he’s laughing. “That’s my linemate!”
Ryan skates to face him. He raises an eyebrow and teases. “Afraid I’ll find someone out here to take your place?”
“No.” Brandon laughs some more. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to beat you?”
“Never,” Ryan says, then slings his arm over my shoulder. “I claim Ivanov for my team!”
“You can’t do that!” Ander and Brandon protest together.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Ryan says to Ander, hamming it up for the crowd. He looks at the kids gathered around and shakes his head. “Too many pucks to the dome for him. He forgot how hockey works. One goalie per team, buddy.”
The kids all laugh and cheer at his joke.
“Fine. You can have Ivanov.” Ander laughs. The sound makes me smile wider than I already am. This right here, this is what it’s all about. This is what makes hockey the best sport in the world. It’s family all the way down to its core.
He places his giant goalie glove on the top of the head of a little boy who looks like he’s no more than six years old. “But I claim…” He leans in close and asks the kid his name. “Max! He’s going to be my number one defenseman.” He dips down again and asks loud enough for everyone to hear, “You can play defense, right?”
“No.” Max giggles.
“Eh, it’s fine.” Ander ruffles his helmeted head with his glove. He is in his element right now, and the most charming to me he’s ever been. “That’s what we have David for.”
“You’re cheating,” Ryan says.
“How so?”
“You’ve picked three players,” Ryan says. “And right now all I have is Ivanov!”
“Am I not enough?” I ask, pointing at myself. Unlike Ander, I didn’t think to bring one of my jerseys, so I’m wearing an old one of Ander’s. It’s a bit snug and has the strangest looking green, horned and fanged monster on it. Apparently, it’s a Hodag, a creature out of northern Wisconsin folklore. I’m in the matching pads as well. I look ridiculous. But I don’t care.
“Considering you’ve never scored a goal,” Ryan says, “I’m going to say we may need more fire power.”
“Is that challenge?” I ask.
“Yes!” everyone in attendance says in unison.
