Chapter 2 "Hello Roomie!"
* * *
"How did you become my roommate?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. No matter how much I would stare at the paper posted on the wall, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was my roommate. The man that I had been almost intimidated as an Oiler was now the man I would share a room with for the rest of the Olympics.
"You make sound as if I’m the plague or something, Ryan," he said, a smile on his lips. "I’m kind of hurt you feel like that."
I made a frustrated noise. "I didn’t mean it like that," I told him, sighing. "I thought you’d be with Marty or Brendan or maybe even Mario."
He laughed, and patted me on the shoulder. "Marty is rooming with Curtis (Joseph), Brendan is rooming with Theo, and Mario is rooming with Al."
"You got me there," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "So…how do you feel about rooming with one of the youngest guys on the team?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but Kevin Lowe spotted us, and yelled, "Smyth, Yzerman, get into your room and get some rest!" We saluted, and trudged into the hotel room, and Steve closed the door behind him. (You sure called it, Alex…lol)
Slowly I walked to a bed and plopped down on it, throwing my duffel bag by the desk. I looked over to Steve and grinned. "You didn’t answer my question. How do you feel rooming with a kid?"
"I think it’ll be fun," Steve replied, sitting backwards on the desk chair. "Last time, I was with Lindros, and that wasn’t much fun." I laughed, shaking my head.
"I wonder who Eric was put with," I mused, as I fell backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Hey, Steve?"
The Red Wings Captain turned to me, as he had been digging in his suitcase. "Yeah, Ryan?"
"What was it like in Nagano? I mean, to lose the bronze medal?" I asked, sitting up. "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."
Steve exhaled slowly, and stood up, and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Well, Ryan, it was like this…"
** Eric Brewer **
Jerome and I were bored out of our minds, and neither of us could really get to sleep. "What do you want to do?" I asked, as I sprawled out on the soft bed.
He shrugged. "No idea. What do you want to do?"
I made a face. "Dude, if I asked you, do you think I know what to do?" Jerome grinned as I turned back to stare at the ceiling. "D’you think we can go for a walk or something? The Parade of Nations isn’t until real late tonight."
"Sure, I don’t see why not," Jerome said. "We’re not playing until the 15th anyway." I pushed myself off of the bed, and the two of us walked out of the room, and into the Village. "Where do we go?"
I grinned, "I dunno, where do you want to go?" Jerome shoved me jokingly, and we shoved our hands in our pockets, meandering around the grounds. Most of the athletes from other countries were walking around as well.
"Hey, there’s Chelios and Federov," Jerome pointed out, and pointed a ways down to where the two Red Wings, now playing for the USA and Russia respectively were standing. "And there’s some girl with them too."
Following Jerome’s finger pointing, I saw Chris and Sergei talking with a dark haired girl, who had a camera and a team Canada jersey on. There was a special press pass around her neck. "She’s press," I said, turning to Jerome. "Photographer."
"Yeah, I kind of got that from the camera, Eric," Jerome said sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow and waved his hand in my face. "Hello? Eric? Earth to Eric Brewer!"
"Huh?" was my ever-intelligent response. I had been staring at the photographer.
Jerome grinned. "Nothing." I looked at him oddly, but shrugged, and we walked over to where Sergei and Chris were. The girl said something to Sergei, and he kissed her cheek, then she went off. "Hey, if it isn’t Cheli and Feds."
The two turned and grinned as they saw us. "Well, if it isn’t two Canucks," Chris said, as he shook our hands. "You sure got some guts walking around in Yank territory."
"Hmm, two Canadians, an American and a Russian…" I pondered, shaking Sergei’s hand. "Wasn’t there a joke that went along with this?"
Sergei held up a warning finger. "Don’t you dare go there," he said, a grin on his face. "What brings you two out here?"
Jerome shrugged. "We were bored in our hotel room, so we decided to come out here. Say, Federov, who was that girl you were talking to? You cheating on Anna?"
The Russian narrowed his eyes at Jerome, and shook his head. "She’s just a friend of mine. She’s from Edmonton."
"Really?" I asked, becoming interested.
Chris nodded. "Yeah, she’s with the…what’s the name of that newspaper again, Serge?"
"The Edmonton Sun," Sergei replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So you guys are playing Sweden on the fifteenth, right?"
I nodded. "It’s going to be weird playing against Tommy, but you gotta get over it." I then grinned, remembering something Joe told me in the van coming from the airport. "Isn’t Brett (Hull) Canadian?"
Chris laughed. "Yeah, he is, but he wanted to play for the winning team."
Jerome snorted. "Winning team? Please! When we meet, we’re going to kick your ass, Chelios."
"We’ll just see about that, Iginla," Chris said, getting right in Jerome’s face.
Sergei rolled his eyes and turned to me. "You guys want to get something to eat? Chris and I were just going to a little place Brett recommended."
I nodded. "Yeah, sure, that sounds great." As we began to walk, I stopped, causing the other three guys that were with me to stop.
"What’s up, Brewer?" Sergei asked.
"If Brett Hull recommended it, are you positive it’s edible stuff?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. Sergei blinked a few times before he, Jerome and Chris broke down into fits of laughter.
** Ryan **
I had listened to Steve describe in extreme detail how it felt to lose the shut-out to the Czechs, and how Brendan couldn’t get over it for weeks after the Olympics were over. It sounded so heart breaking, and I remembered watching that game at home in Edmonton. But it wasn’t as painful as being there, as Steve told me.
"That’s brutal," I whispered, when he was done. "But this time, we’ve got Mario and Paul. Plus, you’ve got me and Eric." I grinned, and Steve laughed.
"Yeah, we’re going to need you to have your backside stuck in Tommy’s face on the 15th," Steve instructed, and I nodded, smiling. "How do you like it so far?"
"Huh?" Good job, Ryan, really. You’re talking to one of the greatest players in the game, and the best you can come up with is a ‘huh’?
Steve had an amused look on his face. "How do you like the Olympics so far?"
I let out a deep breath. "It’s overwhelming. It’s a lot to take in, in such a short amount of time. To be honest, I’m scared out of my mind when we play Sweden. The larger ice surface is one of the things I’ll just have to get used to, not to mention the non-existent red line. And then there’s the pressure of bringing home the gold after 50 years…"
The Red Wings’ Captain got up and sat down beside me. "I understand the fear, and the pressure," Steve began, clearing his throat. "It must be mind-blowing for a guy your age. You know what you need, Ryan?"
"Some serious therapy?" I asked dryly.
Steve laughed. "No, but I’m sure all of us will need it by the time this is over. What I mean is, you need someone to help you out during this tournament. Not just on the ice, but off it too. In Nagano, Wayne led us all on and off the ice, and I won’t forget what he said to me about the younger players."
I was intrigued, as he hadn’t told me anything about that. "What did he say?" I asked, absently cracking my knuckles.
"He said, ‘The most valuable thing for these young guys is to have someone to help them through this. They’re going through the most mind-blowing experience of their lives, and there’s incredible pressure to do well. What will carry them through this is what we can teach them, and that’s going to stay with them for a long time.’"
"He’s right," I said, drumming my fingers on my thigh. "It’s mind-blowing, full of pressure, and I’m only 25."
Steve put a hand on my shoulder. "That’s the Olympics for ya. And Ryan, I’m going to teach you all I can about this kind of game, and help you through this. This is going to be the biggest moment of your life so far, and I don’t want a repeat of Nagano."
Was I hearing correctly? Steve Yzerman was going to be my teacher? "S-Seriously? That means a lot, Steve," I said, trying to grasp the magnitude of this offer.
"It’s not a problem, Ryan," Steve replied, smiling. "You’re going to be one of the players leading Team Canada to Italy in 2006 when I most likely won’t be there. It’s best if you go in there with the kind of knowledge that will do you well in the future. Wayne’s got the right idea when he says what you learn here will stay with you for the rest of your life."
Before I could say anything, there was a knock at the door, and Wayne’s voice was heard: "Get your stuff on, we’re going to go to the Opening Ceremonies now."
I grabbed the red jacket and put it on, plus the red and white scarf, then slipped into the red Canada pants. Finally, I put on the hat, and made sure it fit right. "How do I look?" I asked, turning to Steve.
He grinned. "Like a proud Canadian." He put his stuff on, and turned to me. "Let’s go out there and march with the other 155 athletes from out country."
I nodded, and took a deep breath, following Steve out of the dressing room. This was going to be one hell of a ride…