Playing for Thy Enemy -- Another NHL 09 Goalie BAP

[shinderhizzle84]

Playing for the Enemy ~ ~ Another NHL 09 Goaltender BAP

It was a beautiful day in the City of Toronto on June 6th, 1986, when a child was born. Technically, many children were born. But on this day, a special one was amongst them.

Alexei Madden was born at 6:06 AM, to a full room of eager family members, joyous friends, and loving parents.

What came out on that day, however, was arguably the most understood thing that had graced mankind since Stonehedge, Mummification, Human Sacrifice, and Metallica, who still refuse to stop playing.

He had come out of his mother's womb with a maniacal grin on his face, and family members swore they saw horns, fangs, and claws on him until he became fully aware of the life and world around him.

“Alexei Madden is the devil's child!” worried neighbors would tell their kids, warning their loved ones to stay away from the boy.

Despite the rumors, despite the odd travesties that had manifested themselves in his awesome presence, Alexei Madden was vastly misunderstood, to the point where even he begin to doubt himself.

At the age of five, Alexei Madden had composed a full-fledged opera to be sung by national orchestras nationwide.

At seven and a half, Alexei Madden joined the choir, and soon found, much to his conductor's behold, he proudly had a six octave vocal range, hitting notes from C4 to E3.

At the age of 10, he proudly took up the game that he so passionately loved—ice hockey.

And by Satan's blood, he was good.

The first time he ever set his foot in an ice skate, it has been told that a series of “Oohs” and “Aahs” could be heard from his choir friends, and he managed to skate 10 laps around the local ice rink, outskating the teenage varsity hockey players who were monitoring the patrons, most of whom were taking tiny baby steps while holding on to the boards for dear life.

By the age of 16, Alexei attended the most prestigious secondary school in all of the Greater Toronto area, taking the most difficult courses, while receiving A+'s on all of his marks.

He was the captain and starting goalie of the varsity ice hockey team, as well as the starting goalie for the Brampton Battalion.

He aced the SAT's, ACT's, and took six Advanced Placement exams, scoring 5's in all of them, and 6's when applicable.

He was accepted into Harvard University, where he majored in BioGenetics, receiving numerous grants, scholarships, and awards for his genius mind and intellectual thinking.

All the while, he played goalie for the Harvard University Ice Hockey team, leading them to five national championships—one of which occurred while he was a redshirt, just by having him in the locker room.

By the end of his Harvard years, Alexei Madden graduated as the Valedictorion, and hockey hero, of his class, delivering a speech that was inspiring, beautiful, powerful, emphatic, and much, much more.

However, while Alexei excelled on every path he chose, our story begins at his very beginning.

It was August 2nd, 1996, and Alexei was 10 years old.....

[Pink Mist]

He's like the Chuck Norris of hockey!

[shinderhizzle84]

Quote: Originally Posted by Pink Mist

He's like the Chuck Norris of hockey!

LOL yeah.

sorry for the creepy *** beginning, guys. I'm actually going to try to make it more of a comedy, really....it just has a really awkward beginning, is all.

[shinderhizzle84]

Alexei was a simple boy.

It was success that drove him.

Not fancy toys, or great food.

Not sweets, television, or friends.

Success. A lot of it, too.

He had no friends, for he didn't need them.

He had no passions, for if he did, he would simply perfect them to the point of excruciating boredom.

He held no love for his family, for they only held him back...concerned for his well being.

Pah! Couldn't they see he was perfect?

I am perfect... Alexei thought. The entire world is a blight upon my great and awesome life.

His success knew no bounds, yet Alexei was always up to the task of testing that theory, whatever the cost was.

He was a magnificent student, and had just begun to take up ice hockey—already, he was destroying the competition. Putting it's money where it's mouth was, so to speak.

He was outside, in his yard, perfecting his next great scheme to test his perfection, when he heard a soft, light, humming, coming from down the road.

There she is...he thought to himself.

There stood the girl of his dreams...Amelia.

Alexei had been ashamed to admit it, but he had what pathetic adults would call a “crush”.

Ah, the feelings he held in his heart for the girl.

Love, lust—whatever it was that made his heart flutter, his stomach churn, and his veins go to ice when he saw her—that was what he felt for her.

And as he thought this, he remembered something—could he...?

No, he thought. She is not a fitting test subject..

But she is so beautiful, said the genius mind in his head.

No! Alexei said, with more angst now.

Listen to her humming...

Alexei emptied his mind, obeying the genius.

She was humming a tune...a tune that was eerily familiar, yet he couldn't make it out.

He delved further into the tune—revealing all of it's melodies, it's harmonies—it's mysteries, it's love, it's passion.

Still, he could not place the tune.

His mind broke free of the genius's control.

“NO!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He opened his eyes, suddenly re-emerging in the world that so rightfully belonged to him.

A flock of birds flew away from their branches in a hurry, and they left behind a ruckus of swaying trees, and flapping wings.

Alexei was breathing quite heavily now, teeth clenched, fists raised, as if he was going to fight someone right in front of him.

“Are you alright?” a voice questioned, shocking Alexei to the point where he jumped twice out of his shoes.

“YES, I'M FINE, MOTHER!” shouting threateningly to the wretched soul.

A second went by, and he looked up at her, threatening her with his eyes.

“No need to be mean, jerk,” the girl said crisply, turning around to walk away. “I just thought you were...well...kinda cute, and I thought you might want to walk to the ice cream truck together. But whatever, if you're going to be rude...”

She trailed off and away, crossing the street.

Alexei bolted upright, upturning the lawn chair he had been lounging in. He ran to his backyard gate, unhinged the bolt, and darted towards her.

She was about halfway across the street, and Alexei came off the curb a bit.

He hadn't ever had a problem crossing the street before, but now....

He kept his distance to the girl, now a distant creature to him, remaining by the curb.

“I'm really sorry...” Alexei said. “Do you want to come over...we can play a board game, or something!”

She turned around, and her face lit up with a smile.

“Sure!” she said. She took a step towards him, and said, “I'd love to!”

She ran across the street, and then...it happened.

The car swept down across the suburban street, laying the girl flat onto the road, scarring her severely.

Doors flew open, and the girl's mother ran out of her house, screaming, wailing, and shouting profanities to god.

A crowd gathered round the poor woman and her now dead daughter. The woman sobbed heavily, yet she didn't care that she was in public.

Alexei stood there, awestruck.

He had just completed another test...but at what cost?

He worked his jaw out of a knot, and shuffled his feet awkwardly, unable to withstand the mother's pain without feeling a twinge of sadness.

She looked up at him, bent over her blackened daughter, tears soaking her eyes.

“Demon's child!” She hissed through sobs.

Everyone began yelling at him, demoralizing him.

“Goddamit, you fool!”

“Why'd you push her?”

“I'll kill you! I'll kill you!”

He had wanted to explain what had happened—how young love, usually perceived as being so innocent and beneficial—had killed her, and it hadn't been him.

He wanted to shout, “It wasn't my fault!”

But he didn't.

He simply turned, and fled.

Like a coward.

I'm not a boy, he thought, devastated.

I'm the devil's son....and everyone expects me to behave like him!

And that's when he recognized the tune....

Tears streamed down his young face as he buried his head in his pillow shamelessly.

"What's wrong?" His concerned mother asked through the door, knocking all the while.

"Shut the **** UP, you dumb cow!" he yelled, tears staining his own face.

"Don't talk to me like that, young man!" his mother began.

"I'll kill you, you ****ing bitch! Leave me alone!" he cried.

And all the while, the devil inside him grinned proudly at the monster he had just created.

[shinderhizzle84]

12 dreary years had gone by since that fateful incident.

Alexei gained friends, and lost many more.

His academic accomplishments, as well as his feats in his favorite sport, ice hockey, garnered him national respect, and the awe of all he met.

However, his bad temperament, his foul moods, and his constant maliciousness gave him a bad name, often associated with a donkey and a pit.

He was, in every respect, the Devil's child.

He was 23 years old, now, and it was June 20th, 2008—an Alexei had made it well known he was eligible for the draft.

He had gone through the combine easily, compared to some of his competitors, who vomited several times.

He took his seat, alone, parent-less, friend-less, and love-less, and braced himself for the announcement to be made:

“With the first overall pick of the 2008 NHL Draft, the Tampa Bay Lightning select...”

This was the part where imagined himself standing up.

“Alexei Madden!”

He could see it now—the jersey, the pride, the fame, the fortune. All of this would be his...it was destined to be.

The lights dimmed, finally, and the area around the podium lit up. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman walked up, and made the first announcement.

“With the first overall pick of the 2008 NHL Draft, the Tampa Bay Lightning select...”

He stood up, and power-walked down to the stage, smiling all the while.

“Steven Stamkos, of the Sarnia Sting, Centre.”

Alexei stopped dead in his tracks.

He couldn't believe it.

He was devastated.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Hey, *******! ******* Bettman!”

The entire crowd turned to face him, including Gary Bettman, and all the cameras.

“Yeah...you!”

“I've got a pick for you!”

Raising his voice to a mocking pitch, he said, “The first selection in the Biggest-****ing-******* Draft of 2008 is...Gary Bettman! The runner up...Steve Stamkos!”

The crowd sat there, in extreme shock, and Alexei raised his “little fingers” to the ceiling.

“Yeah, suck on that, *******s! Goalie, out!”

He ran out of the arena as fast as he could, running down escalators and blazing past bystanders.

He made his way out of ScotiaBank Place, and only then did he think, Oh my god...what have I done?

And as he ran as fast as he could, out of the arena and towards his car in the overstuffed parking lot, nobody could see the tears in his eyes.

[shinderhizzle84]

Alexei sat at home two mornings later, a sloven mess.

He was depressed—he was agonized.

He had ruined his chances at ever getting into the NHL.

He regretted what he had done.

He lay sprawled out on his bed, pillow over his eyes, just as he had done 12 years ago.

Don't think about that, his mind warned him. It will only lead to more agony.

So he thought about the draft, and what had occurred.

“Do you want anything to eat?” His mother called out from beyond his bedroom door.

“Go the **** away before I slit your throat in Satan's name!” he said.

“Honey, please, let me help you!” She protested.

“No! Leave me alone!” He yelled back. He reached over and turned on his radio, blasting the loudest song he had—“For the Revolution” by Kalmah.

He covered the pillow back over his face, and sat in agony as the 5 minute long song took it's course.

The song was almost over when a second knock came at the door.

“Go away!” he repeated.

“Honey, the phone is for you. It's something very important!”

“fine, enter...but don't look at me!”

His mother slowly opened the door, and eased into the room, keeping her head pointedly turned away. She began to turn it towards him, and Alexei pointed at her threateningly.

“Alex, you're being ridiculous!”

He motioned for her to silence, placing his forefinger on his lips, and spoke into the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

“Nice choice of music there, kid,” said the voice. “And might I add, what a wonderfully splendid way to talk to your mother!”

“Yeah?” Alexei fumed. “Well you can shut the **** up and kiss my sweaty ba--”

“Save it, kid, you don't want to mess with me.”

Alexei shut up, and the voice continued.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” it continued. “My name is Bryan Murray, and I--”

“Yes, I know very well who you are, sir”, Alexei said, adding an emphasis on the word “sir” to give it an almost sarcastic feel.

“I'll let you off with a warning, boy. The reason I'm calling is because we'd like to sign you.”

Alexei almost dropped the phone.

“What?” He said, startled. The tone in his voice changed immediately from teenage angst to childlike innocence.

“You've got quite a meanstreak, kid,” Murray said. “We like our goalies like that. Remember Emery?”

“'Course I remember him!” Alexei said, defensive now. “What the hell makes you think I'd want to play for the goddamned Sens?” He finally said rudely.

Bryan Murray simply chuckled, and said, “Ah, a Leafs fan, now are we?”

“Well...” Murray trailed off, and eventually spoke again. “I'm sure we can arrange a reasonable contract offer to sway you over to our side.”

Alexei bolted upright, sitting up completely straight in his bed now.

“How much are we talking?” He said, very interested now.

“I'd say around $750,000, for a year,” Murray said.

“Seven-fifty!” Alexei shouted across the room. His mother squealed, jumping up and down, and his younger brother, Jake, popped his head in the room, having had his curiosity piqued by all the shouting.

“Wait a second...” Alexei continued. “There's something you're not telling me.”

“Why the hell would you pay a minor league prospect goalie $750,000?”

“Who the hell said anything about minor leagues?” the Senator's General Manager responded.

“HOLY ****!” Alexei yelled. “NHL? No, no, no, no, no! I'd get demolished!”

“No you won't, kid,” the businessman said to him. “You're pretty good. Even though you've got quite a temper, we're almost positive we can work with that. Welcome to the NHL, kid.”

“Satan's sandals!” He shouted.

“Oh...by the way,” Murray continued. “We play the Leafs, like....a lot—so you might want to build up your resistance to angry fans, because god knows, those pesky Leafs fans have no limitations in their ire.”

The phone conversation went downhill from there, ending in a series of boring, everyday farewells.

The plan was simple: Alexei would meet with the Senators at training camp. He would work his *** off, no “but's”, or any complaints for that matter, and by the end of the ordeal, he would be playing in the NHL.

Whether he was meant to be a starter, or a nobody, was only for him to decide.

[canucksfan33]

I have a question. How was he born at 6:66 am? There is no time 6:66.

[shinderhizzle84]

Quote: Originally Posted by canucksfan33

I have a question. How was he born at 6:66 am? There is no time 6:66.

LOL my bad!! a typo!!


you actually caught one, haha!

Will fix right now, thanks

EDIT: fixed to what it should be, which is 6:06 AM

thanks for the help, man.