Post Olympic

Stephan Sagamore

uhm, first off, foreshadowing? 

second, Steph is an angel, I know this first introduction is less than stellar on his part, but, shh, he's back later. 

slang: chirping: trash talk

music: Giants - Jackson Guthy

LIKE N'STUFF

-rabid

******************

It's game time. Boston is absolutely stacked in terms of players, and I'm excited to see how badly they crush us.

Warming up, I see a few stray glances from the other team, nothing major, but a couple dirty looks.

"Keep your eyes on Sagamore and Stojanovič." Hadley sighs. I look over at Boston. I know Sagamore, he's an OHL kid, played for the Firebirds. Stojanovič is a goalie who's his best friend, but far less good on the scale.

"Why?" I ask.

"I'm going to try to trade Osling for them." He covers his mouth to say it. I raise my eyebrows.

"Stephan Sagamore would be a crazy benefit for us." I mumble. "Him and Rex on the starting defensive line would be virtually unstoppable."

"I know."

A half hour in, and we're getting crushed, just like I thought we would be. It's not awful, the guys are putting up a good fight, but after the second period meeting, they seem to be losing steam. Which means the coaches and I get to yell more.

"MOVE!" I holler. Sauerkraut kicks it into high gear and slips around the back of the net. TD Garden just had a basketball game yesterday, and getting it cooled down after that is hard. The ice is far too slushy.

Sauerkraut has been cussing like a german sailor the whole game, every time he passes us, all I hear is german yammering. He's chirping in the most irritating way, the way you don't understand, but know is bad, mocking. I saw him stick out his tongue at somebody halfway through.

But Boston knows Sauerkraut. Everyone knows Sauerkraut. He's turtle boy. He curls up in a ball on the ice every time someone goes to square off with him. He's the most irritating to fight because he doesn't fight. 

Ever. 

Not once. 

Not in his five years on this team. Not even a stray fist. Sure, he pisses people the hell off, but they all do. Sauerkraut just doesn't give them the satisfaction.

I saw a meme, turtle boy's best fights of all time. It was a compilation of Sauerkraut dropping to the ice, his knees under him and his hands over his head, turtling to avoid contact. I laughed. I have to admit, the montage and music of the video was straight up hilarious.

Boston has a different way of fighting Sauerkraut. Impossibly hard hits. Painfully hard hits. On everyone, not just Sauerkraut. Yeti got thrown earlier, which takes a good amount of effort, considering his size. Our smaller guys are getting tossed left and right, Greenie and Pikachu both have gotten thrown upside down. Blacksmith is doing a fantastic job as a grinder today, shoving back, checking. He table topped someone just a second ago. He hasn't fought yet, pulling a Sauerkraut when challenged, but he's doing a great job of pissing Boston off. 

"VON ALBRECHT!" Hadley hollers. I snap my attention back to Sauerkraut. "MOVE, DAMMIT!" But it's too late for that.

Fenrir is hit full speed in the chest by Sagamore. Sagamore is a good two inches shorter than Sauerkraut, but when he nails his shoulder into Fen's chest? The whole team can feel it. Sauerkraut is knocked back and crushed against the boards and Sagamore steals his puck.

"My god." 

"Get him off." Hadley tells another coach. Sauerkraut doesn't move. He tries damn hard to, but he sways when he stands. Greenbean sprints up to him, catching Sauerkraut on his shoulders as he stumbles.

Fenrir's hand is over his chest, the other is holding his stick. I lean forward to make sure he's not spitting blood, god forbid he cracked a rib.

I catch myself slipping like I did yesterday, getting weird, I don't know what happens, but I need to be present, so I ignore it. I can ignore this one. I'm able to ignore it. 

Barely. 

Barely.

"Take him in," Hadley taps me. I snap back to attention. Fenrir leans against the boards.

"Where?" It's dumb to say right then.

"The locker room. Check him out. I want Jorgen here for anyone else. He looks okay." Jorgen is our medical guy, he's a bit scary, I'll admit.

"Come on, Sauerkraut." Greenbean passes him off to me, and I feel him cough. "I wont let you fall, come on," He seems to be okay, just dinged up and scared. I sit him down on the bench in the locker room and kneel in front of him, reaching up and grabbing the straps on his cage, then pulling his helmet off. He pops the mouthguard off his teeth with his tongue and lets it fall into his gloveless hand. I watch as he takes a shallow sharp breath, another. He looks like he's having an asthma attack.

"Sauerkraut, hey," I seek his full attention. "Look at me, buddy." He coughs again, but his eyes rest on mine. "Do you have asthma? Even if it went away as you got older, any past anything?"

"No," but it's a weird gasp of a no that makes me think otherwise.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," He's hunting for more air. I take a second to breathe for myself, pushing away the weird.

"Put your hands above your head, come on," He lifts up his arms. "Take a deep breath, I know you can." he does as he's told, but when he releases, he coughs again.

"I just," he sucks in another breath. "Got hit," A third. "I'm fine."

"Does it hurt to breathe?" I try to remember what I can.

"No," he mumbles.

"Try twisting to the side," He rotates his chest. "Hurt at all?"

"No," he coughs again.

"Coughing hurt?"

"No,"

"You acting tough?"

"No," he smiles at this and I smile back.

"Take another deep breath, then I think you're okay." He nods, pulling in air. "Try not to scare me like that, idiot."

"Hey," He mocks offense.

"Good to know you can still mess around, now up, up, you've got a game to finish." He stands up, having caught his breath.

"Who the hell was that?" He mumbles.

"Stephan Sagamore." I chuckle, knowing damn well that if we get our way, Sauerkraut will have to deal with him next year.