Chapter 600: Bob V—Trouble
He’d been
called in the morning by
Ah, it wasn’t about Katrina at all. Of course not, by now, Bob could tell what a practical, flinty woman she was. He wouldn’t expect her to rashly run to Lacroix at a time when she felt precarious enough in her situation with him. The point of Pierre’s call was about Patrick. Apparently, in skipping two mandatory press conferences the bull-headed goalie had accumulated a hefty fine and the threat of regular season suspension. This was a disaster they could not weather with the division race running as it were.
Bob suggested to Pierre, who seemed to be uncharacteristically out of ideas on how to handle this situation, that he talk to Patrick and get him to contact the heads that be and offer to do a press conference today to apologize. Nothing smoothed things over in the public eye than a nice, juicy apology.
Thrilled with this suggestion, Lacroix thanked him and hung up.
For the
rest of the morning, Bob spent time with Jacques Cloutier
and Tony Granato in suggestions for the make-up the team come trade deadline.
Mid-morning,
Bob turned it to the scheduled press conference. The media did seem to be making a big deal of this, oh it didn’t matter much to Americans, but he could imagine the Canadian press having a fit over this. That said, the American media converged on this story, as they usually did with initial enthusiasm, not so much to crucify Patrick but to keep pace with the Canadians, and show them that they were not the ignorant hockey philistines they’d always assumed them to be.
Patrick took his seat at the long junket table, alone with a glass of water. Bob smiled. He imagined that this was how Patrick had wanted his press conference to be to begin with, no sharing a table with Jeremy Roenick, or Steve Yzerman or Mike Modano. Now that he’d created a comfortable environment for himself, he could happily talk to the cameras and reporters.
“First of all,” Patrick began, clearing his throat and then fixing his steely eyes on the camera. “I would like to say, that I am sorry for any disrespect I may have shown to the NHL and to the fans…”
May have? Bob shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered how Patrick’s mother ever put up with him.
“…but I must say, that I did not intentionally skip the press conferences. I simply got caught up in this wonderful city, and its amazing sights, and my children were so happy to be here, and my wife that I forgot….”
Good old
Patrick, it’s never his fault. It’s his family’s.
Still, Patrick did a good job of kissing behind on the city of
Really, Bob was about to turn off the television before the conference was over, just because everything seemed fine. He’d almost clicked the button when Peter Forsberg suddenly appeared in the screen, causing an audible buzz in the reporters, and a rise in flash pictures. Patrick frowned, squinted and then half stood up.
“No, it’s okay,” Peter said in a low voice, and Patrick sat back down. “Is this it?”
Patrick shrugged. “Is this what?”
Hartley’s eyes widened. Something told him that he’d be working on some sort of damage control in a few minutes.
Peter cleared his throat and looked at the cameras, smiling with perfect teeth. “Ah, yes, this is short notice, but heh, thanks to a diligent reporter; he sent me the right way for this press conference. This is sudden, it really is.”
Patrick squinted, his eyes becoming slits, deadly little lines that always put Bob in the mind of snake ready to strike. “What are you doing?”
Peter continued to smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Patty. I heard all about it, I’m cool with it, but I’m like you, I would rather it didn’t happen this way!”
Patrick’s eyes widened and he raised his ginger eyebrows. “What? Why do you care so much?” Patrick half-grinned and turned to the camera’s, “Ah, I think he is worried that I owe him money and cannot pay him because of the fines.”
The reporters laughed, Patrick smiled in self satisfaction.
It could have smoothed the awkward situation completely if it weren’t for Peter’s stubborn hold on…something.
“He was my captain too!” Peter exclaimed. “This is no laughing matter. I cared about him Patty. I still care!”
Patrick grimaced, dimples deepening in his cheeks and he flinched slightly. “What?”
“Look, I just want to say, before all of you start asking questions, that I had nothing to do with this, nothing at all. I am here reluctantly, and I might add with a heavy heart.”
“Heavy…heart?” Patrick mouthed out. “What?!”
“I told you Patty. I care!” Peter exclaimed, pressing his hand over his chest.
“What would you have had to do with this?” Patty snipped.
“Yes, what did you have to do with this?” A reporter asked. “Tell us.”
Oh God, did Peter get Patrick in some sort of trouble? Is that why he missed the press conferences? Bob’s palms began to sweat, and he wondered why on Earth Peter would decide to crash a smoothed over press conference with some sort of martyred confession. Bob’s phone rang, he picked it up. “I’m watching. I have no idea…no idea! Let’s just listen, it’s all we can do…yeah.” He hung it up.
“Well, I don’t have anything to do with this,” Peter nodded. “That’s what I felt most important to say first.”
“Then why would you feel you have to tell us that you had nothing to do with it…if you had nothing to do with it?”
Peter’s cheeks reddened. His forehead glistened. “Well, I had nothing to do with it.”
“Yes, because you are not my wife.” Patty rolled his eyes. Of course, now the goalie would be feeling pretty put out, the spotlight off him so inexplicably.
“Your wife?” Peter gasped. “Did she have something to do with this Patty? Why would you say that in public?”
Patrick held out his hand. “Eh, I said just a minute ago, it is my wife. What is the problem?”
“But…you say it? Just like that? You’d admit she went after Joe?”
Bob’s mouth fell open.
Patrick’s mouth fell open.
Bob’s chest began to pound and he stood up.
Patrick’s cheeks reddened. “What are you saying about my wife?” And he stood up, a man smaller than Peter in bones and weight, yet somehow he seemed puffed and expanded. A seething beast that blanched the color from Peter’s face.
“I mean…you said it. Not me!”
“I said nothing like that!” Patrick snapped.
Pictures were flashing furiously now.
“But then why did you bring her up?”
Patrick crossed his arms. “I am done with you, idiot, talk to these reporters. Maybe they can make sense of you!”
“I will!” Peter said, “I don’t even know why you’re up here anyway!”
Patrick seemed angry, perplexed, but he stood quietly, taking a wise course of action. The less said from him, the better.
Hartley’s phone rang again. He turned it off.
“I’ll take questions now,” Peter said pleasantly. And then he pointed to a reporter, “Yes, you!”
“Um, Sylvia Lancaster of the Arcadia High School Gazette, um I have a question.”
Peter smiled. “Wow, high school?”
“Um…I won a contest. Um…I’d like to ask a question.”
“Sure.”
“Okay, um, we all know that
this is Mr. Roy’s press conference, so um, why are you here?”
Peter laughed. “Okay, well, first of all, you need a little more practice in manners at a press conference. And secondly, well, I’m here to talk about the captaincy.”
“The captaincy?”
Bob wrinkled his nose. “The captaincy?”
Peter nodded, “The captaincy.”
“Of the All Star team?”
“No, of the
Patrick uncrossed his arms, reddened and put his hands on his hips.
A flurry of questions flew and Peter calmly held court. “Well first of all, I’d like to say that it did seem strange to me that a press conference was called for a team situation. But I was told to come here, and I have, and I intend to answer any and all questions about the situation.”
“Well, what is the situation?” Someone asked.
“Joe Sakic was asked to step down from team captaincy this morning and I am expected to fill his place. First of all, I want to say that although I think Joe was the best captain this league has ever known, his decisions in the past month or so, have quite simply not been for the best. He meant well, but unfortunately, sometimes your judgment can become clouded due to stress, and perhaps being captain for so long has taken its toll upon him. I will do my best to…”
“Conniving son of a bitch!” Patrick roared.
In that instant all hell broke loose. An enraged grizzly bear had nothing on Patty who leaped upon Forsberg, both men crying out and falling to the ground in a tangle of legs, arms, chairs and rage. Reporters ran forward from all angles to film the altercation and security jumped in, attempting to stop the fracas.
Bob turned his phone back on. His mouth was dry. It rang immediately. “Did you ask Joe to step down his captaincy?”
“No of course not!” Lacroix cried. “What the hell is this?”
“Well…we can’t trade Peter or Patrick,” Bob murmured.
A guard had Peter, two had Patrick. “You son of a bitch!” Patrick kept yelling.
“Hey! This is not my choice!” Peter roared. “But you have to accept it like I have! In fact, deal with it Patty! Just deal! I’m going to be a great captain and you’d better learn your place! We’ve dealt with your irrational behavior long enough!”
“You’ve been planning it all along! Just like Drury!”
“No, we cannot trade them,” Lacroix sighed. “Is Drury in on this?”
Bob shook his head. “I don’t know. This looks like a prank gone badly.”
“I’m going to call Drury.”
Lacroix hung up.
Bob closed
one eye and watched the rest of the debacle with the other.
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