Descent into Ruin: Day 6

Word Count: 36,141

Summary of Events:

On their first road trip of the season to Alberta, nearly a month in, Chalmers finally scored his first goal and point of the season; unfortunately, over the course of the road trip he also eclipsed the amount of minutes in penalties he'd accumulated over the whole of the previous season, leaving him sorely dispirited as the team headed home, fearing he would even miss out on the Under-20 World Championships that, last season, it had been suggested he'd be playing in without a doubt. His closest friend on the team, the backup goaltender, noticed this, and tried to pick up his spirits . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Cade sighed. “Don’t you want to play in the NHL?”
“Yeah,” Chalmers replied.

“Then why aren’t you trying to pad your résumé?” Cade asked. “NHL teams pay more attention to the guys who’ve gone to the World Juniors and stuff.”

“I have a goal, four assists, and eighty penalty minutes,” Chalmers replied. “This isn’t the eighties. I don’t think they’re looking for that.”

“We have, probably, a good fifteen games between now and then, I’m sure you can right the ship and show there’s just as much scoring potential in you as there was last season, even if it’s been a rough start,” Cade said.

“I have more penalty minutes than I got last season,” Chalmers said. “I’m nearly to the point of accumulating more penalty minutes in a season than I’ve ever done in one single season of organised hockey. It’s not even Christmas.”

“I know,” Cade said. “But, well, like, if you’ve been able to score lots and not get a lot of penalties before, you should be capable of doing it again, no?”

“No,” Chalmers replied. “Apparently not.”

“Why?” Cade asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Chalmers replied. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then who should I ask?” Cade asked.

“Coach Leslie,” Chalmers replied.

“I don’t think he has a clue what’s going on with you,” Cade said. “He seems kind of frustrated with you, if I’m honest.”

“It’s his fault,” Chalmers said.

“Are you sure?” Cade asked.

“You don’t think I’m actually trying to shipwreck my season, do you?” Chalmers demanded, feeling upset at the very thought.

“Well, I would hope not,” Cade replied. “Considering you’re getting a lot more chance to show what you’ve got than I am, even if I’m not going to rant about riding the hot hand when we’re in the position we’re in. Nevertheless, I don’t feel like you’re helping yourself all that much.”

“Why?” Chalmers asked.

“You’re not even trying,” Cade replied. “As long as I’ve known you — which, granted, isn’t necessarily all that long — you’ve been the sort of guy who puts it all out there. When the game is done, we know there’s nothing more we could’ve asked of you. This season I feel like we might be lucky if we’ve gotten a blood sample’s worth out of you.”

“It would help if I was getting a chance,” Chalmers snapped.

“How much of a chance do you need?” Cade asked, sounding a bit irritated in turn.

Chalmers glared out the window.

“Is this just because you’re not on the first line or what?” Cade asked. “You’re out there on a regular basis. It’s not like you’re benched or scratched or anything.”

“Guaranteed there’s no second line that plays less than this one,” Chalmers said. “I bet every fourth line in the League plays more than we do.”

“You’re telling this to a guy who’s been riding pine for almost ten games now,” Cade said. “Even if you play two minutes a game it’s better than me.”

Annoyed, Chalmers shifted so he was somewhat facing the window in his seat. If Cade was discontent with how little he was playing, then maybe he shouldn’t have decided he wanted to be a goalie. It wasn’t his fault Cade wasn’t playing.