Chapter 7: Modo--What a Beautiful Man

Disclaimer: I know how sensitive Brett Hull is as a person so if for some ungodly reason he has no life and reads this, please don’t sue me Brett I know you’re not gay!!!!

Chapter 7: Modo—What a Beautiful Man

Waiting for Christmas presents as a five year old was not even comparable to what Mike Modano was feeling right now. The excitement, the anticipation, the utter delight of waiting was practically killing him. He didn’t even want to eat, he couldn’t sleep, he was covered in ugly bruises but he felt no pain. All he felt inside was bliss. It was understandable, the same feeling goes over everyone when they’re in love.

Mike lay sprawled on the zebra skin rug in his Texas manchine and he stared at the intricate designs on the ceiling. Brett had helped him with the designs of a lot of the things in this house. He had such an impeccable eye for things aesthetic.

It had been hard when Brett went unsigned by Dallas and then he had left for Detroit. He was now in that red jersey, the jersey that Mike remembered worshipping as a kid. Brett was the most perfect human being in the world, the most beautiful man, and now he was sporting the colors of his child-hood passion. Of course he would have done that! Why wouldn’t he? He always knew how to hurt Mike, and he’d done it again.

After it was obvious that Brett was no longer a Star, that he was gone for all intents and purposes, Mike crawled into his bed and cried. What else was there to do, but cry? He had given up everything in the world for that man, his girlfriend, his heart, his sanity! And what did he do? Leave.

Now he was alone here. The team was in shambles, no one seemed to like each other. It was lonely.

Nothing in the world could have made Modano happy, so he thought. He was ready to just enter life as a zombie, go through the motions, and die. And then it happened. The most beautiful of epiphanies engulfed him in the oddest of places.

It was stepping onto the ice in the Pepsi Center in Denver. The team scraped onto the ice, to the half-hearted boos and hisses of the latte sipping, meat eating-vegetarian, Avalanche fans.

Modo had skated around a few laps, just getting his huge quadricep muscles loosened and he had thought about how screwed up life was. How life bites!! He was going to die lonely and alone, and no one would care. Who would he want to care anyway?

Modano had stopped on the practice ice, staring aimlessly at the row of girls lining the glass, with cameras and giggles. They were more than likely pointing and cooing at Peter Forsberg, that red-headed, Swedish meatball. Well guess what girls! Mike Modano thought angrily, I have all of my teeth too!

"Get your feet moving, Mike," a voice said at his shoulder, "We want a real game now today, we don’t want you ripping a groin."

Mike looked at the owner of the unfamiliar voice. It was the Avalanche captain, Joe Sakic. He had a playful glint to his gray blue eyes and there was a slight smile on his

lips. "C’mon, get skating!" Joe said over his shoulder as he veered away from Modo and began to take practice shots at the net.

Modano was dumb-founded. Guys often yapped at each other or bumped each other in the pre-game skate, so there should have been nothing unusual about that. Joe Sakic often exchanged playful barbs with other skaters too, just to throw them of their game perhaps. That had to have been what Joe was thinking.

But Modo couldn’t entertain that thought. Joe had smiled at him, looked soul-fully into his eyes. Joe had reached out and made contact! It made sense. Joe was a quiet man, a lonely man no doubt what with his wife being so untouchable he had heard.

Modano looked at Sakic as he circled the ice a bit and leaned over, doubled onto his stick. What a beauiful man! His hair, his tan, his eyes! Modano sighed, "And he doesn’t want me to rip a groin.....he cares about me!"

That was the epiphany. At that moment, Mike Modano knew that his heart was no longer broken. He knew then that only one person could ever make him happy again. That person was Joe Sakic.

Modano closed his eyes as he lay on his zebra skin rug. That game had been two days ago. Adam Foote, that brutish philistine, had beaten him to a pulp. Only now was he beginning to realize the extent of the pain Foote had laid upon him. It didn’t matter.

The Avalanche were beginning a road-trip that would begin here in Dallas. It was one of those surreal home-at-home schedules. That meant that in only a matter of hours, they would be here.....HE would be here. Maybe, Modo thought, he could bring Saks here, where he used to bring Brett, here...on this rug. Would Joe understand? How experienced was Joe?

"Oooh," Modo sighed as he began to fall asleep. The most beautiful things in life happened to one when they were at their lowest. He was sure of that now.

"Hello, Joe, I know this is sudden and everything but I just wanted to tell you that I feel it too and I want you to know that you don’t have to feel nervous....because I know what to do....and I know how to do it....so why don’t you come over to my place and we can........"

Modano dropped his face into his hands. That wouldn’t work!! That wouldn’t even work on a girl much less the captain of a hockey team. Casual? Act casual? No....coy..flirtartious? No......

I know! Modano thought as he saw Joe circling towards him on the fresh sheet of pre-skate ice. Act like you don’t know he’s there! Act like you don’t see him! That’ll get him thinking.

So Modo angled towards Joe as he was circling towards him and then brushed by him real fast, just slightly nudging him, not too much! Just enough so that Joe would know the he was there, and close enough to touch. And he didn’t look back, just to show Joe that he wasn’t too eager either. But he couldn’t help it, he had to look back.

So just barely he glanced back at the captain. Joe was looking at him! And he had a rather puzzled expression on his face. Perhaps he was fighting with the emotions swirling within him, just like he was. Aw, how cute! Joe was confused!

He stopped and gazed over at the captain, he was now no doubt discussing captainly things with his alternates, Foote and Forsberg. They seemed to be discussing something serious as Joe shrugged and touched the side of his right arm. Was that the arm Modo had brushed? He couldn’t remember. And now Foote was looking in his direction.

Modano’s gut turned to putty. Was Foote gonna have it out for him all over again? Jesus! Modo thought, what was that barbarian’s problem anyway? Couldn’t he pick on someone else....like...like Jere Lehtinen?

Modano turned and began to fire pucks at Marty Turco, the goalie. He would just pot a couple goals today and everything will be better. Foote be damned!

One more glance, Modano glanced at Sakic one more time. Eeeeep! Joe was looking in his direction again!

Modano turned away and grinned. "Yup," he said softly to himself, "I’ve got him eating out of my hand!"

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