Leafs and Habs. It is a rivalry that divides and defines a nation. English and French, centuries of Canadian history personified by a pair of organizations, each a symbol of a set of values and a version of the past. The Plains of Abraham refought on the ice.
One team is English Canada, named the Maple Leafs by a World War One veteran who bought the team in 1927 and who wore the same crest as the Olympic athletes of the period. During World War two the owner, Conn Smythe, formed his own artillery battery in the Canadian Army that included a number of his players, other Toronto athletes and even a couple of sports reporters, hell Smythe was wounded in Normandy. There is the legend of Bill Barilko, the last goal he ever scored won the Leafs the Cup in '51, who died in an off season plane crash and had a Tragically Hip song done about him. Hopefully they'll have the Pipe Band from the 48th Highlanders out to play the Maple Leaf Forever. Hope and determination.
The other team is French Canada, Les Canadiens de Montreal. The team of the Rocket, the Pocket Rocket, St. Patrick Roy and a number of other names more important than any Catholic Saint in Quebec. The pride of a culture that has co-existed with the rest of Canada rather uneasily at times, the team being a sign of the beliefs the Province has kept burning for centuries. Passion, fiery passion defines the Habs. Sometimes it burns the opposition, evidenced by all those Stanley Cup banners and sometimes the Finnish team Captain who came back the same season as he beat cancer and who donated half a million dollars to local hospitals gets shredded in the local papers because his french is bad. Passion and faith.
Okay so yeah maybe that whole English Canada vs French Canada doesn't completely apply anymore, with the growing and changing demographics of a nation. You're bound to find a Quebec kid wearing a Pens or Caps jersey now of days and there are six other teams in "English" Canada but still fuck that noise, it's Leafs vs Habs on CBC and the country will be watching and so will I. Satellite television to follow a hockey team? Am I crazy? I don't care I'm an hour from Ron Maclean and Don Cherry and the Leafs have finally got a goalie and a defense that is as good as any in the NHL. Call me a deluded Libertine but I think this could be the year. The Year.
I prep the food as I wait for my guest to arrive, whistling the old Hockey Night in Canada theme and making sure that I don't spill anything on my nice blue home Leafs jersey. I'm expecting Lux and ... and ... I'm kind of nervous. About the game. Yeah the game.
A soft knock sounds on Pulp's door, followed by several other knocks in the rough cadence of Hockey Night in Canada. When the door opens, Pulp finds himself confronted with Lux, the valiant manifestation of Les Habitants pride that resided in Sacramento. She wore an old Habs Jersey, jeans, and was carrying a six-pack of Porter in one hand, and a unopened box of tissues in the other.
"Aaaaaaand...these are for you," she drawled, handing Pulp the box of Kleenex. "For when you lose. Hopefully you didn't put any money on the game," she added with a laugh.
I answered the door and smiled at Lux, noticing within the first five seconds that even the presence of the Habs jersey failed to make her any less attractive. I smiled and took the box of Kleenex. "My favorite brand, how did you know?" I offer a playful wink as she enters the apartment. "I've got munchies, including stuff that is almost impossible to get in this country. I mean seriously how do you call yourself the most gastronomically advanced society on earth and not have ketchup or all dressed favored chips?" I shake my head.
I wonder what Lux thinks of my place. Two desktop computers and a laptop against one wall, a small kitchen, decent sized living room, average bathroom. To be honest it's just a regular place. Well except for the walls. I like posters. I've got my pair of Einstein quotes with his face staring down, tongue playfully out, a single piece of paper with that great line from Jack Layton's last message to Canadians and a ton of others. Hunter S. Thompson, Ghostbusters, Fight Club, Harry Potter, Rage Against The Machine, an old WW2 "motivational poster", JFK's address at Rice University aka that Speech about going to the Moon and one of Bobby Kennedy. The last lacks a quote mainly because, well mainly because just choosing one would be impossible.
"Money, money's really nothing. I have confidence in my team and I'm willing to bet something that means far more to me than money on the outcome of this game." I can never just ask a person out, it's a bit of a flaw I have. It seems that like I am always doing something dramatic. "There is a big Halloween party and since you feel that confident in your team's chances" I shake the Kleenex box "how's about we make things interesting. Leafs win and we go together. An honest date."
Lux came in the apartment and her gaze avidly roved over the decoration and layout of the place, but she paused, ever so slightly, when the word 'date' was echoed into the room.
"Well, the problem with that suggestion is that it only covers your half of the bet. What happens if I win?" Lux returned, recovery her outward demeanor.
Internally, however, warning sirens where blaring and a slide show of every relationship disaster that was her romance life flashed before her minds eye, images and fragmented arguments jamming together into a tumultuous history that all pointed towards one thing: dating was more likely to ruin a relationship than add to it, and the last thing she wanted to do was destroy a new friendship that would be crucial on both a personal level and a political level in the very near future.
Her taste in men had always been dubious, at best, but whatever the reason for the many break-ups in the past, she'd always been a part of the cause. The long and short of it was, she'd never wanted to actually connect her life to someone else's and a large piece of her wasn't sure if that mindset had changed. Sure the world was a new place that bristled and thrummed with untold possibility, but it was also a place that she was still adjusting to, now more than ever do to the massive geographic move she'd made, and it just wasn't time to complicate things by bringing in her love life...
"...But would one date really hurt?" some rebellious piece of her argued.
"Well the fruits of your victory, should the Habs win, are entirely up to you." I say with a smile as I munch of an All-Dressed flavored chip, which helps a bit with the nerves. Yeah I said nerves, I'm not going to lie here, Lux makes me nervous. Well not really Lux but the way I feel about her, since there is a bit of a difference between acknowledging how I feel and then acting on it and those same feelings erasing my own experiences. I've never really seen a good relationship, from my fake Aunt and Uncle down to the crazy chick who stole my copy of Fight Club. Hell the best relationship I've ever seen almost resulted in the cold blooded assassination of one party by the other.
Still I can't help how I feel and well believing that anything is possible in the future means believing that anything is possible.
"I believe you mean when the Habs win," Lux returned, patting Pulp on the shoulder. She chose a few chips to munch, using the simple task of eating to mask her inner conflict. The press of her own history was still strong in her mind's eye, but when she took a moment to really think about it, that's all it was. History. She wasn't just a banker anymore. She was a Thearch; she was one of the Mighty; and fear would only limit how far she could truly go...
"Ok. You have yourself a bet," she said finally.
I smiled, confident in my team and the terms of our little bet. I open the fridge and offer Lux her choice of the cans of coke, orange crush, bottled water, iced tea or Canadian beer with a gesture of my left arm, look out Vanna White. After she'd made her selection, I grabbed my own drink and made my way over to the couch, flipping the television on to the CBC's coverage. For a second I'm homesick, really homesick and as the pregame show pans over the crowd at Young and Dundas square and then outside the ACC, I wish I was there. Cheering with those crowds, filled with that hope, that insane childish hope, that this year would be THE Year. I need to take a quick drink to relax and drive most of those thoughts from my head.
"At times like this I feel like I should be there, in the rink sitting next to Diamond Dog and whatever Raptors' Dance Pack girl he brought as a date, quoting 'Slap Shot' and waiting for the Pipe and Drum band from the 48th Highlanders to do "The Maple Leaf Forever". That always gave me goosebumps."
Lux selected a beer from the fridge and followed Pulp to the couch, saying a brief "thanks" along the way. Sure she had brought beer, but this was a cold beer. Her mind was mostly elsewhere during all the pre-game shenanigans, but the utterance of a voice at her side brought her attention swinging back around.
"Really? I never really liked going to the games in person. Too much noise, too many rules, and not enough leg room. I think I kinda get what you mean, though; Sacramento is no Toronto. Just the other day I found myself walking on autopilot to my favorite bar, which coincidentally happens to be a couple thousand miles away, but I ended up walking into a park instead; which was a nice change. There's just so much about this being a new city that it's hard to lose sight of all the possibilities that lie on the Horizon. I know you saw Toronto through eyes that knew the sight of Truth, but, honestly, when I think back to it I mostly remember the Lie since that's how I experienced it for such a long time."
I take a sip of beer as I listen to Lux, nodding my head as she spoke and thinking about all of the differences between here and home. "I get what you're saying, I mean it was a place you moved to. Me I grew up there, it was what I knew and honestly it was part of who I was. Who I am even. The city was like an old friend and Awakening really only deepened that feeling." I shift in my seat to face Lux. "One of the Council's focuses is on Sleepers and protecting them when needed, that was something that was second nature to me considering that I always felt like they were my people. My first time confronting something nasty I found courage in the fact that if we didn't stop it and it got out then people I knew might be the ones to pay the price." My voice is serious as is my expression.
"Awakening there seemed like a natural progression of things, you know like I was born, I celebrated those two World Series wins, hung out at the Eaton Centre after school, kissed my first girl at the Beaches Jazz Festival and then one day saw the Truth. Sacramento seems like a good town and I love you guys but it has been a real adjustment."
Lux turned to Pulp, gently took his hand, and just looked at him with eyes like twin pools of arctic water. For the moment, words weren't needed to express that she understood that he had sacrificed something, that he was still grieving the loss of what he had thought his future would be, and she didn't need words to show that she wanted to offer comfort. For the moment it was just the two of them; sitting there, holding hands, on the couch, in an apartment in Sacramento, watching a broadcast from a well loved city that was across the continent. The drone of the television sounded on, the smell of snacks drifted through the room, Einstein continued to stick his tongue out at them, and finally she released his hand.
"If I was in your position," Lux began, "I bet you'd say something odd and yet oddly profound to help me, but all I can think of to say is this: wherever we are, that's where we are. You're home, your territory, your space, moves with you; it's in your mind. So, obviously you're right, there's still a lot of adjustment involved here, but try to think of this as an enrichment, a second yet equal home that you're building in your geographic mindscape in addition to Toronto. Furthermore, let me help you with that. I'm still trying to add to my own mental home...pun maybe intended," she continued with a wink, "and the first thing I'm going to do is try to learn the Gossip of the city. Just note that I do NOT mean gossip of the people in the city. I'm talking about learning the history, the geography, the types of architecture, the types of trees, and just any other type of minute detail that is surprisingly important when it comes to constructing a mental view of a place. Just like with your TV, it's little things that make up the picture."
I can only really offer Lux a genuine smile backed up with some real affection, I know that she's right and her advice is damn good council. I give her hand a little squeeze, my smile widening. "I can see that you simply go for profound" I wink "and it works for you. It's some damn good advice and something that I will make a real effort to work on." My eyes convey just how much her concern and words meant and they seriously meant a lot, in fact just the fact that she cared made me feel a lot less homesick. I'm usually pretty good with the whole standing alone thing but well I can deal with leaving most of my friends, leaving my positions but the city was the toughest. It was part of who I was as a person, beyond being a Awake or Asleep, it was just something I had always thought would be there. Still I'll get pass it, it's what I do.
"You're right, I need to let Sacramento just be Sacramento and stop trying to compare it to Toronto. Also thank you. You're a great woman Lux for trying to cheer up and talk sense to a hard headed fool like me." I smile, with a touch of a tease in it, and hold her hand gently, just content to enjoy the moment.
"Well that's something to check off my bucket list then...'say something wise without sounding like an ass'," she laughed after a moment, a sunburst of a smile breaking over her features. "I'm glad that that helped you some, Pulp. That's what I always say to myself when I get homesick and it usually helps. Besides, I'd probably be in worse shape if we'd never run into each other my first night here. It'd be a shame if I didn't return the favor."
She retrieved her hand from her friends grasp, though, trying not to send the wrong message, and ate a few chips to cover the gesture.
I'm not going to lie to myself, I'm rather disappointed when Lux moved her hand away from mine. However I'm smiling from her compliment about helping her back when she first arrived, and the disappointment is kept in my own private thoughts. Further self reflection is interrupted by the teams lining up for the opening face off. "I ... your welcome, I was really glad to see you as well." I turn my attention to the game with a pull on my beer and a hand full of all dressed chips. The puck is dropped and game action begins and well the first few minutes are ugly, at least from my perspective. The Leafs come out flat, the Habs came out pressing and only James Reimer standing on his head in net prevents Montreal from taking an early lead.
Me I'm on the edge of the couch when the Habs get another power play, watching PK Subban run the point through the gaps in my fingers as five minutes of pressure turns into ten minutes of serious pressure. Toronto are on their heels and playing like a bunch of drunken bums, it's like the beginning of a sports movie, when the heroic band of losers are getting their asses kicked in order to establish just how bad they are. If moral victories count the score when the period ends is still 0-0.
As the teams leave the ice and CBC goes to a commercials I turn to Lux with a weak smile. "Things are looking good for you."
Lux fidgeted like a kid with an overactive imagination trapped in sunday-school throughout most of the first period. The Habs weren't letting her down, but the game was carrying an emotional weight in its ebb and flow and it sent her nerves ringing with the imagined need to do something. Normally she would have just cheered louder and fired off a constant stream of ribbing about how badly the Leafs were doing, but she really didn't want to piss her friend/host off, and she knew that the game might carry the same weight for Pulp as it did for her. So she crossed her legs, uncrossed her legs, re-crossed her legs; picked up her drink, set it down, took a sip, transferred 'drink' hands, ate a chip, set her drink down, ate another chip, took another drink, uncrossed her legs, took another drink, took another drink, and finally sat still when the commercials began pouring out of the TV and Pulp turned to her again.
"Looking good? But of course. What did you expect? We are the oldest team in the league," she returned, affecting the accent and tone a rich Parisian might use when talking to a beggar. "Obviously the tied score means that the Leafs will never gain the upper hand. It's simply beyond them."
The CBC graphics hit the screen and cause me to seriously question my decision to let this all hang on a fucking bet. Four shots. FOUR FUCKING SHOTS?!!? Sundin would have that in a single shift. I sigh and finish my beer, standing up and beginning to make my way towards fridge. "I need another beer, can I get you one?" I ignore Don Cherry's latest rant and open a beer for myself and one for Lux if she wants one. Mentally my brain is kicking itself for this idea, I should have just asked Lux out but I ... I just got the feeling that no matter what I did directly, she'd say no with another explanation about work or getting used to the city or Mage stuff. I just know how I feel about her and well I need a chance to show her what she means to me.
"I have faith in them and I know they'll come back, sometimes it pays to stick with something no matter how badly things have gone in the past." I flash Lux a genuine smile, my overall expression a bit softer and gentler than usual. "Eventually patience and fortitude pay off." I take a drink of beer and turn my attention back to the game as the second period begins with the Leafs short handed again. I'm pretty much resigned to another period of disappointment when a Habs defenseman pitches in too far and gets caught in deep. Three on one shorthanded .... a shot ... rebound ... the puck is just sitting there in the crease ... no ... not again .... Lombardi circles around the net and chips it in ... 1-0 Leafs ... the arena goes crazy.
I just smile at Lux. "See what I mean."
Lux raised an eyebrow at Pulp, picking up on the double meaning in his words about patience and perseverance, and she decided to take the proffered beer as the next period began. She was in for another 20 minutes of anxious watching, but the beer helped steal some away some of the tension and the game became enjoyable again. That is, enjoyable until the Leafs broke the tie on a stroke of luck, and Lux threw her hands into the air.
"Idiot!" she cried, gesturing vividly at the Canadien Goalie. "On t'a bercé trop près du mur?! Merde!" ("Idiot! Did you get hit on the head as child?! Fuck!")
The Obrimos sprang up from the couch, grabbed another beer, muttering all the while, and then she collapsed back into her seat.
"Sorry, sorry. I'd just rather see the Habs lose because they're a worse team, not because the Goalie was incompetent. He should have had that!"
For my part I just laugh and smile. "Actually that rebound was sitting there forever, don't blame poor Carey Price, blame the defenseman who pitched and his partner who can't clear a rebound." I take another sip of beer as the game goes on, the Leafs playing a lot better this period and the action going back and forth with Toronto having a slight edge the balance of play. They have a couple of more chances to add to the lead but when the buzzer ends and the promos for 'After 40 Minutes' begin, the score is still Leafs 1 - Habs 0.
"You can pick the costumes."
"A small mercy," Lux returned, lightly socking Pulp on the arm. "But speaking of Costumes, did you hear about the bet that Ahriman lost? He has to show up dressed as Dr. Frank N Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I.e. he has to go in drag. Which might not be a bad look on him," she continued, snickering briefly. "Um, but yeah, I was thinking that we could show Ahriman some support by also going as characters from the movie. I think I'll pick Eddie. I've always had a soft spot for bikers that play the saxophone."
Just my luck that all the beautiful women I know are into bikers, Meatloaf or bikers played by Meatloaf in great Cult films. I shake my head and focus back on the game before 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light' starts playing in the back of my head, thank god it's hockey, I might be killed by the irony if it were baseball. So beer, yes beer. "I'm game but with my luck I'm willing to bet that everyone already has me written down as Brad." I grin and laugh, focusing my attention back on the game. Yes the game. 1-0 with 20 minutes left to go. I'm not nervous. Totally SOOO not neverous.
Have I mentioned how not nervous I am?
You know Einstein once summed up the theory of Relativity by stating that it was really like this, and I'm paraphrasing here, "When you're courting a beautiful girl, an hour feels like a minute. When you're sitting on a red hot poker, a minute feels like an hour. That is Relativity." I get the notions of perception and let me tell you right now I'm feeling it. The puck is dropped and clock seems to slow down, it's like I'm fourteen again, it's Friday and I'm stuck in grade 9 Math waiting for the clock to hit 2:51. Wait puck's back at the point, Phaneuf shoots and Leafs score!!, 2-0.
Now just need to hold the lead, which is easier said than done as the Habs begin to press. Toronto's not on their heels but they're protecting the lead, killing the clock and playing smart. I know it's just smart hockey for the first game of the year and I know how quickly a two goal lead can disappear if the team holding it plays recklessly, but I want them to be aggressive, I'm not feeling comfortable with this one until the score is 5 or 6 to 0. I'm not even eating chips. Yeah.
And then it happens, the game finally ends. Leafs 2 - Habs 0. I can't even make a snarky comment.
The end of the game finally came, and Lux retrieved a fourth beer. "Well...here's to Canadian Hockey," she declared raising her bottle in salute to her losing team and to the lost bet. She was disappointed, but now that the game was over, and the bet was resolved, the tension faded away like frost in the noon-day sun, and smiling became easier.
"You could always go as the narrator," Lux offered, taking a sip. "Ya know, the guy in the smoking jacket? Oh, crap, I forgot what he was called. The, uh, psychologist? I mean, someone has to pretend to be sensible for Halloween, right?"
"Well it is a time for pretending to be something your not right?" I reply with a grin and a wink as I return her salute with a drink of my own beer. "The Criminologist, an Expert. That could really work since considering the cast of Rocky Horror and our friends, someone might need to keep most of their clothes on. Just in case." I munch on a chip and hope that Lux looks better in her costume than Meatloaf did in his, not that I have an issue with Meatloaf or his musical collection, Paradise By The Dashboard light is one of my favorite songs. "Besides I'm a university professor, I should have a smoking jacket and extra large dictionary around somewhere." My tone is light, for the first time in years I'm actually excited for Halloween.
"Better than my two original ideas, Hunter S. Thompson or the whole Cabal dressing up as Hogwarts students."
"Ok, bet or no, if you had wanted me to go as a Harry Potter thing, we would not be going. Fictitious kid wizards is where I draw the line," she declared, pantomiming the action. "Besides, like you said, someone, in addition to me, has to be sane that night."
I put my hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, Okay, it's alright Eddie, I don't have an axe." I try flashing a smile to hopefully disarm the angry French Canadian girl in front of me, Habs fans don't take losing very well.
Yes I learned that the hard way. Don't ask. Really, don't ask.
"But how do I know that," Lux returned, arching a brow sharply, her eyes like flashing blue chips beneath a strip of flame. The Obrimos held the look, unblinking, pouring a challenge into her gaze, and then she abruptly fell back onto the couch with a laugh. Lux took a sip of beer and then sat upright again, laughing softly.
"I'm not angry about the Harry Potter thing, Pulp, I'm just letting you know that there is a line there. Cross it and there will be more than a notification via owl mail," she finished, trying to look stern despite the laughter in her eyes.
I take a rather large drink of beer, since I am still slightly unsure of my safety and not wishing for a Forces Mage to blow out my TV and computers, I decide that maybe poking the dragon is a bad idea. Oh well I've always enjoyed most portrayals of Magic, Wizards and Willworkers in the media, stuff like Harry Potter, the Night Watch series, the Dresden Files, all captured my attention and honestly I've found them relevant to my own existence. Well one of the major themes of those works always is the concept of Power, its proper and moral use and it's effect on those who have it within them. Yes our choices and how they effect us, which given that our biggest issue is usually hubris, allows me to find common cause with fictional characters and examine my own life. Besides sometimes I need the pick me up.
"Okay so no Gryffindor scarf for you as a Christmas present then." I playfully back away a step with a wink. "So what do you like? I'm sure that you have a favorite movie, book, band or something."
"That's...kind of an abrupt switch," Lux returned, somewhat taken aback. "You've still got a month before Christmas gets here, ya know. There's no rush. Besides, what I really need isn't something fun, so I'll have to get back to you on that."
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