The Road to the Cup ~ Wattys 2015

Hey Ian

My first impressions of Ian Cole came the next day at practice. My initial thought was: this ginger is on the wrong side of Pennsylvania. My second thought was: where's this guy from? His accent was so familiar.

"Hi, I'm Ian," he extended his hand to shake mine.

"I'm Erin, the assistant coach here," I shook his hand. "Do you mind me asking where you're from?"

"I just came from St. Louis, I thought they told the coaches when a trade was made," Ian replied, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"I know you came from the Blues. I meant where do you hail from? From which region of this vast world do you originate?" I replied sarcastically.

"Ohhh, that's what you wanted to know. You should be more specific next time," he smirked, "I'm from Ann Arbor. That's in-"

"Michigan. I know. I'm from The Mitten, too," I interrupted.

"Might I ask why you wanted to know where I came from? Is that a thing with you or something? Are there any other weird things you ask about?"

"Would you shut up and let me answer the first question?" I demanded. "I asked because I recognized your accent, but I couldn't place it. I've heard so many accents with this job that it was difficult for me to tell. There're a lot of Canadians on this team, you get used to the accent eventually," I informed him.

"Yeah, I'm used to Russian accents. Tarasenko wouldn't keep his mouth shut," Ian chuckled.

"Our Russian, Geno, doesn't talk as much as some of the other guys. Marc-Andre Fleury, however, loves to talk," I said.

"Good to know. What else should I look out for?"

"Me," Sidney said, skating up to us.

"Ah, Crosby. It's nice to finally meet the man himself on good terms, rather than as an opponent on the ice," Ian extended his hand.

Sidney stood there stoically, not shaking his hand. His posture told me that he was irritated by how friendly Ian had been being with me. I elbowed him, trying to make him be nice. Sidney coughed to clear his throat and shook Ian's hand, "Nice to meet you, too."

"So, I've heard that Fleury is a talkative goalie, is it true?"

"Who said that about me?" Marc's voice came from behind us as he walked out of the locker room, decked out in his goalie gear. "I don't talk a lot." Sidney snorted and I rolled my eyes.

"Flower, you never shut up," Sutter said.

"Yeah, you even talk to the pipes!" Tanger exclaimed.

"They are my friends! They make good saves for me sometimes. And clearly, none of you like listening to me, so I have to talk to someone," Flower muttered.

"Well, I'm a fresh pair of ears for you. Ian Cole," Ian shook Marc's hand.

"Eh, nice to meet you. Are you from the same area as Erin? You sound a lot like her. It's that distinct Michigan accent. I love it. It's unique. And do you have her funny phrases? She says 'y'all' a lot and 'pop'. I don't know what pop is," Marc rambled on.

"Pop is what we Michiganders call soda or soft drinks. It's kind of weird, I know, but it's just a habit. We also have some of the best pop in the country," Ian bragged, looking at me.

"Faygo. Plus we have Better Made chips and-"

"Better made chirps?" Lapierre cut in. "How can you say you have better made chirps because you're from Michigan?"

"Better Made chips. Like, potato chips," I clarified.

"Though we have good chirps, too," Ian said, "Glendening and Abdelkader aren't afraid to cross lines when they're chirping."