The Meaning of Hockey, Final Chapter

Bobby and Frida lay comfortably silent beside each other for almost a half-hour before either spoke.

"What are you thinking about?" Frida said, contentment in her voice.

"We're still doing that honesty thing?" he answered.

"Yes!" she said poking him playfully.

"I was thinking about Maggie Moo," he said.

She shifted to her side to get a better view of his face.

"I was thinking that maybe I've been wrong about what happened to that damn cow."

"What do you mean?" said Frida.

"Well, remember I told you she was kind of like the symbol that life had no point?" he said.

Frida nodded.

"Lying here, with you, content, it occurred to me that I was completely mistaken," he said, staring at the ceiling. "In fact, Maggie's final few minutes represents a transformation. What happened to Maggie Moo on the ice in Muskegon was that a meaningless existence was transformed into something thousands of people talked about."

Frida smiled.

"Think about her life. Eating, sleeping, suction cups on her tits twice a day. Her milk collected to make some god-awful processed cheese. What do they do to an over-the-hill milk cow?"

"What?" asked Frida.

"I don't know," said Bobby. "That's the point. But I do know how Maggie Moo met her maker. Because of a bullet to the brain at center ice, her life is talked about, analyzed, celebrated."

Frida's smile grew into a giggle. "You are so full of bullshit."

"I am and it feels good," said Bobby, giggling as well.

She kissed him, full on the lips, then pulled away. He rolled a few degrees towards her.

"It's all context and point of view," he said.

"That determines how we interpret an event, or a story?" she said.

Frida's words caused Bobby to refocus his thoughts on her.

"You've understood that all along?" he said after a few moments.

She shrugged.

"You and Mike and anarchist hockey have opened my eyes to whole new ways of seeing the world," he said. "It feels good."

They smiled at each other for a few seconds. Bobby ran his hand along her shoulder.

"This whole woman, lesbian, feminist thing has given me a great relationship with Mike. It feels good. This giving thing, not always taking, it feels good," he said. "Thinking about other people as well as yourself - I like it."

She smiled.

"You feel good," he said. "I love you."

"I love you," she said.

They kissed and then Bobby lay on his back, his mind completely empty. Empty and content. Sleep. He knew he could.

***

Bobby had given the desk strict instructions not to put any phone calls through, but he had neglected to register under an assumed name.

It had only taken Matt Hollingsworth twenty-five minutes on his laptop to come up with the hotel and room number and just as Bobby fell asleep, there was a pounding on the hotel room door.

"Coach, open up," came a chorus of voices. "Coach, we know you're in there."

While Bobby was perfectly prepared to tell them to go away, Frida insisted that they don the hotel robes and let their visitors in.

It was the entire team, including Troy, Brendan, Max and Bo, plus Mike.

"We're fucking sorry to bust in on you Bobby, but we figured you'd want to know," Troy said as twenty-five people crowded into the space meant for two. "Nice fucking room."

"I flew down," said Mike, smiling. "I wanted to spend New Year's with my old man."

Bobby smiled as he thought his life was pretty close to perfect.

The team surrounded the bed like Bobby and Frida were coaches giving instruction at center ice.

"Well?" said Bobby as he held Frida's hand.

"It's okay coach, you can kiss her," said Hollingsworth.

"As much as you like," said Ryan.

"Fucking Seattle beat fucking Tri-Cities," said Troy.

"Apparently that goon Rogers hasn't been getting along with Coach Bower and they actually had a punch up on the bench in the first period," said Ladner.

"Billy Dean dropped him with a punch to the nose," said the Tamil Tiger.

"And the Americans just fell apart and the Thunderbirds beat them 5-4," said Weldon.

"So we've both got the same number of points, but we're officially in first place because we have more wins," said Kiniski.

"You, we, get to keep the team," said his son.

"Great, hey coach?" said Buckinghorse.

"Great," replied Bobby.

"So what do you want to do to celebrate?" said Troy.

Bobby could feel the tremendous excitement and joyous energy bottled up in the crowded room, but he had only one thought.

"Sleep," he said. "Sleep."

THE END

The Meaning of Hockey ran three times a week for 16 weeks exclusively on The Tyee. To offer advice, to criticize or to reserve your printed copy of The Meaning of Hockey email [email protected]