The Hunk of Long Bay
folder
M through R › Men with Brooms
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,187
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Men with Brooms
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,187
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Men in Black, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
V Humiliation
Gordon was good. Observing their techniques for twenty minutes, he provided feedback on their sliding, draws, takeouts and sweeping in such a manner as to get his point across – at least to Chris – that if they surrendered to his coaching, the Golden Broom would be within reach. He was perfectly willing to submit to his father. And he believed he set an example for James. Eddie and Neil didn’t need that. Neil never had been prone to rebellion. And Eddie was James’s dedicated follower (if he wasn’t Chris’s).
They practised each night, and during the weekends.
It paid off; they were improving noticeably. Rumour spread itself that the Hunk of Long Bay and his estranged father were on speaking terms again, and that the former members of the Cutter Rink had reunited and were aiming to win the next Golden Broom. The town’s people came to watch the training sessions.
Gordon didn’t mind. He said it was helpful in teaching the rink to perform under pressure.
They had three loyal fans; Lily Strombeck, Joanne ‘James’s girlfriend-for-a day’ (Chris didn’t know her surname) and Amy Foley. Amy was smart enough to bring Brandon as an alibi, but Chris knew she was there to watch him. He could see her drinking in his every move, just like she had ten years ago. God, he was so tired of being adored.
Still, it wasn’t enough to spoil his cheerful mood. He was playing curling again, and doing a good job at it. He was working on rebuilding the relationship with his father. And on top of this, the training sessions provided him with the opportunity to be with Neil on a daily basis, making it look perfectly logic and innocent. He could watch Neil’s concentrated face, his moves. He could talk to him, encourage him. And be rewarded with small, flustered smiles. Which invoked in him the absolute and fierce conviction that he could do anything. Anything at all. For Neil.
They attended the tournament in Jacksonville, a town nearby. And came second, very closely after Alexander Yount and his rink. It was almost a draw.
With only three weeks to go before the Golden Broom, Gordon was talking about going the extra mile. Which, amongst a few other things, involved polishing Neil’s sliding.
Gordon showed him what he was doing wrong. But he didn’t have the chance to make his point, because mid-slide he yelped and collapsed on the ice.
They all rushed towards him, including Amy. She was a professional physiotherapist, and her diagnosis was straightforward. Gordon was this close to a hernia. It could be prevented only when he would rest from now on, and submit himself to her guidance.
‘Please, do as she says,’ Chris told Gordon.
‘I don’t think I have any other options, son,’ his father moaned.
So now, Chris had to coach the others towards the bonspiel for the remaining weeks. And Neil’s sliding still needed improvement. Due to swinging, his shots went amiss too often. It wasn’t that he couldn’t deliver a shot. In fact, if they abstained from sliding, and delivered from the hog line in stationary crouched position, Neil was better than Eddie, James, or Chris. His stones hit the button nine times out of ten. It was just his sliding. He had insufficient balance.
They tried to help him. Gave him balance exercises. Pushed him from the hack without a broom, telling him to use his arms as wings to steady himself while he was sliding towards the hog line, where Chris was standing to catch him.
Neil didn’t like it. In fact, Chris thought, he was dissociating. He had left off mentally. He wasn’t here, at the alley, on the ice. His blank face indicated that he was somewhere else.
They were humiliating him.
Damn.
He called it a day, and helped Neil to stand up straight, steadying him when he threatened to fall on his back. He was very close, and he looked very distressed. Chris hardly noticed that Eddie and James were saying goodbye.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I suck,’ Neil said softly.
‘You do not. You just-’
‘I do,’ Neil insisted with surprising force. ‘I have no balance. And when I know that I’m swinging again, I get angry with myself. Which only makes it worse. And then I just zone out.’
‘You need to relax more,’ Chris said.
‘It’s difficult. With you …’ Neil swallowed. ‘With you being …’
‘Neil?’
‘Never mind. I’d like to go home now. It that okay?’
‘Sure,’ Chris said. ‘I will be seeing you tomorrow night, won’t I?’
‘Of course.’ Neil smiled. It was a tired smile.
Damn.
They practised each night, and during the weekends.
It paid off; they were improving noticeably. Rumour spread itself that the Hunk of Long Bay and his estranged father were on speaking terms again, and that the former members of the Cutter Rink had reunited and were aiming to win the next Golden Broom. The town’s people came to watch the training sessions.
Gordon didn’t mind. He said it was helpful in teaching the rink to perform under pressure.
They had three loyal fans; Lily Strombeck, Joanne ‘James’s girlfriend-for-a day’ (Chris didn’t know her surname) and Amy Foley. Amy was smart enough to bring Brandon as an alibi, but Chris knew she was there to watch him. He could see her drinking in his every move, just like she had ten years ago. God, he was so tired of being adored.
Still, it wasn’t enough to spoil his cheerful mood. He was playing curling again, and doing a good job at it. He was working on rebuilding the relationship with his father. And on top of this, the training sessions provided him with the opportunity to be with Neil on a daily basis, making it look perfectly logic and innocent. He could watch Neil’s concentrated face, his moves. He could talk to him, encourage him. And be rewarded with small, flustered smiles. Which invoked in him the absolute and fierce conviction that he could do anything. Anything at all. For Neil.
They attended the tournament in Jacksonville, a town nearby. And came second, very closely after Alexander Yount and his rink. It was almost a draw.
With only three weeks to go before the Golden Broom, Gordon was talking about going the extra mile. Which, amongst a few other things, involved polishing Neil’s sliding.
Gordon showed him what he was doing wrong. But he didn’t have the chance to make his point, because mid-slide he yelped and collapsed on the ice.
They all rushed towards him, including Amy. She was a professional physiotherapist, and her diagnosis was straightforward. Gordon was this close to a hernia. It could be prevented only when he would rest from now on, and submit himself to her guidance.
‘Please, do as she says,’ Chris told Gordon.
‘I don’t think I have any other options, son,’ his father moaned.
So now, Chris had to coach the others towards the bonspiel for the remaining weeks. And Neil’s sliding still needed improvement. Due to swinging, his shots went amiss too often. It wasn’t that he couldn’t deliver a shot. In fact, if they abstained from sliding, and delivered from the hog line in stationary crouched position, Neil was better than Eddie, James, or Chris. His stones hit the button nine times out of ten. It was just his sliding. He had insufficient balance.
They tried to help him. Gave him balance exercises. Pushed him from the hack without a broom, telling him to use his arms as wings to steady himself while he was sliding towards the hog line, where Chris was standing to catch him.
Neil didn’t like it. In fact, Chris thought, he was dissociating. He had left off mentally. He wasn’t here, at the alley, on the ice. His blank face indicated that he was somewhere else.
They were humiliating him.
Damn.
He called it a day, and helped Neil to stand up straight, steadying him when he threatened to fall on his back. He was very close, and he looked very distressed. Chris hardly noticed that Eddie and James were saying goodbye.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I suck,’ Neil said softly.
‘You do not. You just-’
‘I do,’ Neil insisted with surprising force. ‘I have no balance. And when I know that I’m swinging again, I get angry with myself. Which only makes it worse. And then I just zone out.’
‘You need to relax more,’ Chris said.
‘It’s difficult. With you …’ Neil swallowed. ‘With you being …’
‘Neil?’
‘Never mind. I’d like to go home now. It that okay?’
‘Sure,’ Chris said. ‘I will be seeing you tomorrow night, won’t I?’
‘Of course.’ Neil smiled. It was a tired smile.
Damn.