Re: A Different Path (BAP)
The anger was finally subsiding. Pat was finally feeling more at peace with being sent down. With 5 points in his past two games, he was really feeling it. Hopefully he wouldn’t get traded for some injury-prone “stud”. He was proving he could bang bodies, with the big boys as witnessed by his huge hit on Manchester’s Brian Boyle on early in tonight’s game.
“Let’s go boys eh? It’s Saturday and we got tomorrow off. Let’s hit the clubs baby.” Tommy was always going on about the clubs that he “frequented” though having hung out with him a lot, the club he hit the most was the putter at mini-golf.
“What are you talking about man? We’re playing Providence tomorrow moron,” Brandon said laughing
Dubinsky despite his time in the NHL had proved to be a hard worker and all around good guy. He and Mark Bell had made everything easy for Pat to succeed. The three linemates were the top three scorers on the Wolfpack, and everyone respected them, except for one player.
Pat had tried hard to be friendly to Artem Anisimov, but Artie was in a slump and his confidence had been shaken by his poor play and that an unheralded player was doing much better than he was. He was never in a good mood, and couldn’t shake it.
After the Monarchs game Pat went out with Brodie, Tommy, and Brandon. To his surprise at the bar was Anisimov nursing what appeared to be a vodka on the rocks. Deciding that they needed to become friendly should Dubinsky ever be called up and Artem moved up to his line, Pat went over to Anisimov with a beer in his hand and no plan other than to shoot from the hip and be honest.
…2 hours later…
Doing Karaoke was not what he had planned but if that’s what it took to be on good terms well then that’s what he was going to do. After a rousing version of Steve Perry’s “Oh Sherry” Pat decided that he had had it for the night. Stumbling out of the bar he walked right into a puddle and fell over. Immediately someone rushed over from under the bus stop to help him up.
“Are you okay?” a young woman asked.
“Yeah,” Pat replied “just a little wet.”
“Here’s the bus. Let’s get you on and home,” she said soothingly.
“Thanks, but I live just down the street, so if you could help me out to there, that would be great,” Pat said now exhausted from his karaoke session and the 10 beers he had consumed.
“No problem buddy. Let’s get you up.”
After being assisted up to his apartment Pat was finally able to get a good look at his rescuer. She was extremely attractive and there was something about her that caught his attention; probably the horn-rimmed glasses. Those always looked good on brunettes and man was she a brunette: all 5’7” of her.
“Hey thanks for helping me home,” Pat said rather drunkenly. “I was wondering if I could maybe know you’re name and if it’s at all possible maybe get your number so I can properly thank you.”
“Sure. No one else seems interested. My name is Emily, and here is my number. Don’t worry I know who you are.”
As Pat drifted off to sleep he felt warm. It was probably all of the alcohol but maybe he had met someone special… nope, it was alcohol he thought as he rushed to the bathroom.
The anger was finally subsiding. Pat was finally feeling more at peace with being sent down. With 5 points in his past two games, he was really feeling it. Hopefully he wouldn’t get traded for some injury-prone “stud”. He was proving he could bang bodies, with the big boys as witnessed by his huge hit on Manchester’s Brian Boyle on early in tonight’s game.
“Let’s go boys eh? It’s Saturday and we got tomorrow off. Let’s hit the clubs baby.” Tommy was always going on about the clubs that he “frequented” though having hung out with him a lot, the club he hit the most was the putter at mini-golf.
“What are you talking about man? We’re playing Providence tomorrow moron,” Brandon said laughing
Dubinsky despite his time in the NHL had proved to be a hard worker and all around good guy. He and Mark Bell had made everything easy for Pat to succeed. The three linemates were the top three scorers on the Wolfpack, and everyone respected them, except for one player.
Pat had tried hard to be friendly to Artem Anisimov, but Artie was in a slump and his confidence had been shaken by his poor play and that an unheralded player was doing much better than he was. He was never in a good mood, and couldn’t shake it.
After the Monarchs game Pat went out with Brodie, Tommy, and Brandon. To his surprise at the bar was Anisimov nursing what appeared to be a vodka on the rocks. Deciding that they needed to become friendly should Dubinsky ever be called up and Artem moved up to his line, Pat went over to Anisimov with a beer in his hand and no plan other than to shoot from the hip and be honest.
…2 hours later…
Doing Karaoke was not what he had planned but if that’s what it took to be on good terms well then that’s what he was going to do. After a rousing version of Steve Perry’s “Oh Sherry” Pat decided that he had had it for the night. Stumbling out of the bar he walked right into a puddle and fell over. Immediately someone rushed over from under the bus stop to help him up.
“Are you okay?” a young woman asked.
“Yeah,” Pat replied “just a little wet.”
“Here’s the bus. Let’s get you on and home,” she said soothingly.
“Thanks, but I live just down the street, so if you could help me out to there, that would be great,” Pat said now exhausted from his karaoke session and the 10 beers he had consumed.
“No problem buddy. Let’s get you up.”
After being assisted up to his apartment Pat was finally able to get a good look at his rescuer. She was extremely attractive and there was something about her that caught his attention; probably the horn-rimmed glasses. Those always looked good on brunettes and man was she a brunette: all 5’7” of her.
“Hey thanks for helping me home,” Pat said rather drunkenly. “I was wondering if I could maybe know you’re name and if it’s at all possible maybe get your number so I can properly thank you.”
“Sure. No one else seems interested. My name is Emily, and here is my number. Don’t worry I know who you are.”
As Pat drifted off to sleep he felt warm. It was probably all of the alcohol but maybe he had met someone special… nope, it was alcohol he thought as he rushed to the bathroom.
Comment