34. Brett

Brett

Groggily, I lift my head from the couch and fumble around on the floor, looking at the name on my phone and silencing it. Sammy has been calling non-stop, but I can't talk to him. I can't talk to anyone. When I drop my phone on the ground, it hits the TV remote, snapping on the channel I want to see least right now. That familiar jingle plays, and the camera pans over New York City before zeroing in on people in blazers behind a large glass table.

"Welcome back to Sports Table, where we answer your most pressing sports questions. I'm your host, Dave Thompson. Here with me today are Sarah Chen and Mark Russo, along with special guest Liam Felson. Today's question is simple, but I know it's going to get some of us fired up."

I should turn it off, but it's like I'm paralyzed. First, Liam Felson is the world's biggest Viper hater. He, Grey, and Devon had some big rivalry back when they played together, and Devon said I should count ourselves lucky that the guy decided to retire.

Even as he's sitting at the table, ugly face resting in a frown, it's like I can feel his disdain for the Vipers rolling off him. It doesn't help that Grey went on to become a head coach, while Felson does this—occasionally appearing on sports shows, but not landing any regular spot of his own.

I stare at the screen as they run through a few ads. Maybe I'll get lucky, and they'll talk about something else for once. Maybe, just this once, I won't have to think about what's happening to me right now. The woman sitting at the table straightens her papers and looks into the camera, and I get a sinking feeling as scrolling text shows up on the bottom of the screen.

"And I'm Sarah Chen. Here's what we're trying to answer today: Will the two-time defending Stanley Cup Vermont Vipers make it to the championship again this year?"

I blink, dread curling up in my stomach, the shame from our recent losses weighing on me, pressing me into the couch.

"Well, I'm gonna answer that question pretty simply," Felson says, smacking his hand on the table loudly. "No way ."

"Well, that's—"

"Let's get the facts straight, first, before you all start arguing," Sarah Chen says, glancing at her papers. "After starting off strong with two wins in this playoff series, the Vipers have dropped their last three games against the Toronto Maple Leafs. One more loss and their dreams of a three-peat are over. So it's been a shocking turn of events for a team that seemed unstoppable just a few weeks ago."

"Well," Dave says, giving the camera a sad, stiff grin. "There's no doubt that the recent scandal involving star player Brett Ratcliffe has shaken up the team. For those who may have missed it, Ratcliffe was arrested in Minneapolis following an altercation with his father and brother. Video of the incident went viral, sparking questions about Ratcliffe's personal life and mental state."

"Yeah," Felson chuckles, "the Vipers have a history of not being able to keep their personal shit separate from the game, and that's why there's no way they're going to the Cup this year."

"Except," Sarah cuts in, leaning forward, her dark hair glossy in the studio lights. "That they won the Stanley Cup both last year and the year before that, and that was in the midst of scandal and media coverage. Remember with Devon Chambers—"

"I remember," Felson snarls. "But Chambers didn't let it affect his game. Ratcliffe? He's failed to score a single goal and is a -5 in plus/minus."

"That's true," Dave says, as though Felson is changing his mind. "We're also looking at a significant shake-up in the Viper's cohesive energy. These past few games have not been pretty to watch."

"Sure," Russo chimes in, "that's a far cry from Ratcliffe's regular season numbers. Without Ratcliffe firing on all cylinders, they can't generate offense. The line isn't working together. Chambers picked up some of the slack—with his four goals—but it's not enough. It's not going to be enough to get them to the Stanley Cup, either."

Sarah shakes her head. "I disagree. I think this is like the calm before the storm. The Vipers have shown us twice that setbacks only propel them forward."

"The Vipers have been living on borrowed time," Felson says, leaning forward, and sounding annoyingly credible. "Two Cup wins? Please. They got lucky, plain and simple."

"That's a bold claim," Russo says. "And we can't deny the talent. Ratcliffe—"

"Ratcliffe? Don't get me started on that guy. All flash, no substance. He's too young to do what they want him to do on the ice."

"Speaking of Ratcliffe's situation," Dave says, "what's your take on the rumors about him potentially moving to Minnesota?"

"Honestly?" Felson says, taking a sip of his water. "I'm no Viper fan, but good riddance. Vermont would be better off without him. Maybe they can focus on building a real team instead of relying on one-hit wonders."

"Wow, Felson," Dave says, his radio voice loud as he rocks back in his chair. "You're not holding back, huh?"

"Nah," Felson says, shaking his head and laughing. "I'm just making my case—did you see the interview with Aldine yesterday?"

Now, a clip of Coach pops up on the screen, and I close my eyes, not wanting to see it again.

"Coach Grey Aldine expressed frustration with Ratcliffe's off-ice distractions in his press conference yesterday, but pulled away before the press could get much out of him."

"Okay!" Dave says, clearing his throat. "Timer is up for the discussion. Everyone gets to make final statements for the question: Will the Vipers make it to the Stanley Cup? Felson, take us away."

"Absolutely not. This whole thing is like watching a car crash in slow motion. We all know how it's going to end."

"Russo?"

"You know what, Dave? I'm gonna say yes. I think the Vipers will pull through. Their talent and history of rising to the challenge is enough for me."

"Sarah?"

"I love a good under-dog," she determines. "Not only do I think they're going to the Cup, I think they're winning it."

"There you have it," Dave concludes, grinning into the camera. "Thanks for tuning in to Sports Table. Up next, we turn to the NFL. Will Trevor Burke actually be retiring this year, or will he go for another Super Bowl?"

When the TV flashes to a KFC commercial, I reach down for my phone, feeling like a rung-out rag. It starts to vibrate again, and I sit up, rubbing a hand over my face and groaning.

"Sammy. I told you to stop calling me. I'm fine , man."

"Brett?"

Opening my eyes, I pull the phone away from my face and stare at the number there. One I don't recognize.

"Cassidy?"

"Close enough," she says. "Listen, Fallon doesn't know I'm calling you, but—it's June. You should come to the hospital right away."