My star soared for many years, starting when I was a young boy learning to play hockey.
Natural talent is what I heard over and over again, and because my father was a hockey player himself, he endeavored to foster my talent. It was the best camps, the best trainers, and lots of pressure from him to perform to perfection. In those days, I was the apple of my father’s eye, and Brooks—two years younger than me—luckily wasn’t browbeaten the way I was.
My dad took all the credit when I was accepted into a D1 school to play hockey, and he latched onto the limelight when I was drafted to the Boston Eagles. Brooks was ignored, for the most part, even though he had the same talent that I did. We were well-matched in all regards. In fact, Brooks essentially followed my path.
He, too, played D1 hockey and was drafted to the Titans. My father was happier than a pig in shit, and he for sure took all the credit for my brother’s accomplishments. Brooks and I would laugh about it over beers and mimic my dad and his insatiable need for the spotlight.
When I was twenty-three, the Boston Eagles won the Cup. When it was my turn to have the Cup with me for the day, I threw a party at my home in Boston. It was Brooks’s last year in college, and I told him it would only be a matter of time before he was able to hoist the coveted trophy above his head, so sure I was of his talent and determination.
Of course, we laughed because my dad pretty much clung to the Cup throughout the entire party and had my mom take a zillion pictures of him with it.
Those were the last happy days I remember. The next training camp, I injured my shoulder, and it was the start of a downward spiral. While Brooks’s star started to shine brighter, I had a hard time coming back from the injury.
I was out for months but came back to the Eagles, only to injure it again. After another rehab, I came back but wasn’t stable enough to even make the third-line cut.
At age twenty-six, my star dimmed, and I was sent down to the minors.
Can’t say that my father really noticed, though. After my injury, he’d jumped on Brooks’s bandwagon and never looked back at his injured son struggling to save his career.
It built resentment inside me, leveled mostly at my father for being so self-centered he couldn’t be just a father, and then toward my mother who parroted him in all ways. Lastly, I resented Brooks because after years of being number two, he was now finally number one, and he loved the attention from our dad. We no longer laughed over beers about Dad’s antics, and instead, Brooks staunchly defended him anytime I complained. I suppose he suffered from not having that fatherly attention all those years growing up and needed the validation.
It unfortunately caused a rift between us, and over time, we barely spoke to each other. Brooks was a star on the Titans, the second-leading scorer at left wing behind Coen Highsmith.
Me?
I played for the Cleveland Badgers, earning a whopping $92,000 a year, quite the decline from my $3 million contract with the Eagles. When I left the pros, so too did the endorsements. I was pretty much a has-been trying to hang on to a dying career. Even though I’d completely recovered from my shoulder injury and was as strong as ever, no one really remembered who Stone Dumelin was, indicating my star had completely fizzled.
Now… I’m back in the top tier with a lucrative contract freshly signed. I should be celebrating my luck, and yet, all I can think about is how fucking wrong it feels.
I arrived in Pittsburgh yesterday and moved right into a cheap, furnished apartment Aunt Bethany helped me find while I scrambled to close down my life in Cleveland. I can afford more, but I’m not interested. I’ve had the wealth and glamour, and I know how unimportant it is.
I also know how fleeting it can be, so I’m banking all my money and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The Titans’ arena has always been one of my favorites to play in, and now that it’s my official place of employment, I came early today to take a better look around. Callum Derringer had front office staff prepared to give tours to all the incoming players, which was a major influx of new people to accommodate. The facilities are top-notch and luxurious, and I can say it doesn’t suck to have such nice conditions.
Currently, I’m sitting in what is aptly called the Bowl. It’s the team’s meeting room shaped, well, like a bowl. Circular rows of plush chairs rise up from the center floor with large digital screens all around the top for us to watch video.