The Land of Nuts and Fruits

A/N: Upon reading the 2002 Official Rules of the NHL, I assure you that the scenario about to unfold here in the next few chapters is very possible. Oh, and a big congratulations to Pierre and Coco Lacroix who became American citizens yesterday.

Cheers!

Chapter 64: Robbie or The Land of Nuts and Fruits

Couldn’t blame a guy for trying, was all Blake thought to himself. He was only trying to help the team, not circumvent Joe’s authority. Really, he knew that he was a much more experienced leader than Peter or Footer. It had only made sense that Joe name him temporary captain, but apparently Joe didn’t see it that way. He had named Keaner. And Blake really couldn’t complain a whole lot against that. At least Mike had some real experience as a captain in Montreal, but how much was that? Blake knew as well as anyone that after successfully challenging Kirk Muller’s authority in Montreal, Patrick had been the unofficial ruler of that team. So Mike really, when you get down to it, had only just been an alternate for that team. Of course he wasn’t dumb enough to say all that to Joe. He had just nodded eagerly; swallowing his words, and agreed with Joe. Yes, Mike would be a great choice.

Dammit, big mistake! Blake thought to himself as he saw Keaner, Peter and Footer giggling in a corner of the locker room. Patty was leaning back on the bench with sleepy eyes and he was listening to them, grinning as well. Joe had definitely made a big mistake. Now they were all over there, giggling like private school girls. Plus, Footer and Peter still had the A’s. So they were back in square one.

"What are we at now?" Danny asked Blake as he taped up his stick. The kid had finally been cleared to play. "Ninth, tenth game of the season?"

Blake looked up to the ceiling and thought about it. "Yeah..." he said, "I think so. Why?"

Danny finished taping the stick and put it down. "Well... I feel like I haven’t played in a century... and damn, has any game passed by without something weird happening? How do you think it’ll go tonight?"

"Aww," Blake said. "I’m sure tonight’ll be fine. I mean not every game can go that weird. You’ll see. Maybe we just need you on the ice, and things will go more smoothly."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "I hope not! It’s looked like so much fun!"

Blake laughed. "Well, who knows, maybe Patrick’s goalposts will start talking to all of us tonight."

Danny laughed and leaned back against the wall, wiping his eyes.

The game started out quite normally, but Rob had learned fast since coming to the Avalanche that one should never quite trust that fact. Games often began normally, and with this team, they never seemed to end the way one figured them too. As soon as the first puck was dropped, Rob had no idea that by the night’s end; he would have some memories burned forever in his brain, and one that his future grandkids would never tire of hearing.

As soon as Rob touched the puck on his first shift, the arena rocked with the low boos of the audience. It pulsed and the sheer decibel level of it wrapped around his senses and into his brain, like the low hum of a large machine. Somehow it had become an almost pleasurable sound. That he could elicit such a strong reaction from a crowd, who was so eager to follow the propaganda of a miserly GM, tickled Blake inside. His mother always chided that to him, any attention, even bad was good attention, and Rob knew that was the truth with him. He didn’t like going unnoticed and if his passing from LA had been quiet, he decided that would have made him feel worse. The only real time that the boos had really disturbed him was only after the fact when he had been told that Brandi, pregnant and still disturbed about the trade, had been chased crying from her box in the Staples Center by the jeers and thrown food receptacles of the fans.

The boos got louder and Rob was tempted to hang onto the puck a little longer, just to test the enthusiasm of the crowd. But the coach had already talked with him on that. Hartley didn’t want him harming the team in some way just to get some more attention. So Blake shot the puck to Peter, and watched as the forwards took it up ice and the boos switched off like a light switch.

Later as the puck was dumped into their zone and Patty fished it from the corner, Rob noticed that the crowd was also booing Patrick, and some even stood at the glass, hitting it to distract the goalie. Patrick was used to all that, Rob supposed, star goalies always had those certain cities that were hostile to them. Rob took the pass from Patrick and fed it across the ice to Hejduk.

Goalies were nuts, Rob thought to himself as he sat down on the bench, breathing and squirting some water on his face. Taking all those boos, all that responsibility, all those shots. No pity for them at all from him.

"Hey Danny boy," Robbie barked at Noter as the kid hopped off the ice. "Seems normal so far."

"Yeah!" Danny smiled. "Not for long aye?"

"Fingers crossed," Keaner said loudly, apparently he had been listening to them. "Fingers crossed OK OK lets not have wishes for what we’re not ready to handle gotta game here lets win it lets win it."

Blake took a gulp of water and spit it onto the floor. "Right," he muttered as he swung his long leg over the boards and onto the ice. "Let’s not make wishes here."

It was near the end of the second period, when they were holding a one zip lead that Blake zeroed Adam Deadmarsh in his sights. The pest was planted happily in front of the net and grinning and ignoring Patrick’s sharp stick swats at his calves and ankles. Blake ran his tongue over his lips and Deadmarsh left the blue goal crease, catching a loose puck by the net. He was alone now. Blake decided to do it. He turned rear end forward and pumped as much speed as he could into barreling his ass at Deadmarsh. There was the satisfying whump of his body crushing down onto the man and he lost his balance and fell down.

"You dumbass!" he heard a voice scream in his ear.

And there was laughter from the audience he could hear it. What the fu... The red light went on and he could hear the horn blaring and Patrick cursing. Shit, Blake thought, someone scored. He shook his head and stood up, and to his horror he could see Chris Drury crumpled on the ice, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Blake asked leaning over to Chris.

"You! That’s what!" Chris yelled. "You missed Deader and you hit me!"

"Who scored?" Blake asked, as if that would change the situation any.

"No one scored!" Patty screamed. "It was kicked in when Chris knocked Deader onto me!"

Rob raised his eyebrows and grimaced. The Kings had Deadmarsh enveloped in a huge hug and as they skated away, Deadmarsh looked over at Robbie and winked. Meanwhile, Patrick was embroiled in battle with the ref.

"What do you mean you won’t even review it! It was kicked I tell you!" Patrick screamed.

"It’s a good goal!" the ref barked. "Shut up and get back to your net, the game’s tied not lost."

"Have a look! Just look at it!" Patrick persisted.

Forsberg had skated up to the pair and he was softly talking to the ref, trying to plead Patrick’s case but Blake knew that if it hadn’t been looked at by now, then it wouldn’t be. His cheeks reddened as he looked back at Drury, the kid was coughing and glaring at him as he skated back to the bench. The crowd was still laughing, and Blake decided not to even look up at the glass. How could he have misjudged a hit so badly?

"It was kicked!" Patrick yelled again from the goal crease.

"Look," the ref yelled, leaning forward and pointing his finger at Patrick. "You’re gonna howl your way to a minor penalty. My ruling stands!"
Patrick crossed his arms, and leaned on the crossbar, silent and red faced. Rob sighed. As soon as the ref turned around and started skating away, a loud, deep voice hissed, "Shithead."

Blake’s mouth dropped open and he met eyes with Patrick. The ref stood still for a long time and Blake could see the tight set to his shoulders. How could Patrick have done that? He thought and he looked back at Patrick. His eyes weren’t angry anymore, they looked terrified and his face had blanched. "I didn’t say it, Robbie!" Patrick said in a tiny voice.

Rob could only stare at him. The voice hadn’t sounded like Patrick’s at all but who else could it have been? There was no way Patrick could wriggle out of this one.

"What did you say?" The ref growled.

Patrick shook his head. "I didn’t!" he said.

"Don’t lie!" The ref barked.

"I’m not! It was the shitty posts not me!" Patrick yelled back.

Blake dropped his face in his hands.

"That’s a two minute minor honey!" the ref screamed.

"Robbie tell him!" Patrick cried grabbing his arm. Blake could only look at Patrick helplessly. Had he gone insane? "You heard them didn’t you?"

"Hell weall heard you!" Blake snapped.

Patrick let go of Blake’s arms and he even had the gall to look stunned. "Of course," Patrick said. "You wouldn’t know..."

As the ref was skating away Patrick growled and grabbing his stick he cracked it on the crossbar. "I hate you!" he roared and this time Blake knew he was yelling at the crossbar and not the ref. But Rob knew that wouldn’t help.

The ref turned around and yelled. "Outta here! Outta here! You’re gone!"

Blake sighed again and glanced at the bench where David Aebischer was already standing up. All he could think was that this was as odd as the night would get. It couldn’t get worse than having Patty tossed.... Could it?

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