Rating: PG
Starring: Curtis Joseph
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is fiction, you can't sue.
*************
Oh lord
They do try hard to make me feel
That I don't matter at all
But I refuse to falter
In what I believe
Or lost faith in my dreams...
...they can try
But they can't take that away from me
Mariah Carey "Can't Take That Away"
Used Without Permission
What am I doing here? Why am I still sitting in this room, wearing this jersey, like it's some symbol of pride? Maybe for 20 other guys it is, but not for me. For me, it's a symbol of pain, of disloyalty, of disrespect, a not so subtle reminder of how all I really have left is my pride. That was the one thing they could never manage to snatch away from me, though I'm sure they would've loved to. They crushed my family, my security, my confidence, my legacy, but they could never affect my pride; like a dandelion fighting against the weed killer, it continued to live, and flourish to spite their efforts. At one point, pride was literally all I had, the one thing I had to cling to to get through the situation that this jersey, and the people behind it put me through. My family was hundreds of miles away, suddenly my place in the game was erased because of a few bad goals, I felt like a kid back in St. Louis listening to Mike Keenan tell me how I was the worst goalie to ever play. But still beyond all of that was my pride, and it kept me going, kept my upper lip stiff, kept me playing for a team that didn't want me around, and reminded me that some day, some how everything was going to work out. That might not seem like a lot to most, but it was everything to me. It was all I had.
Now, I have everything again. My family is back beside me, my kids voluntarily moved just to be back with me. The fans that once booed me now chanted my name, and clamored about how lucky they were that I wasn't traded. Management and coaches that once belittled and threatened me now apologized for their behavior, and praised my "professional attitude". A team that didn't want me, that made backstabbing little comments about how I gave them no confidence now welcomed me back with open arms, and professed their happiness that I was still around. A jersey that once hung in my locker like a black cloud, a sign of purgatory, now hung as a sign of redemption, my once chance to win. It's funny how things work out, eh?
Yeah, it's an F-word how things work out, but it isn't funny. It's straight and simple, right out of a soap opera fucked up. I don't want to be here, I don't know where I want to be, but it isn't here. One can only take being spat on for so long, before they begin to hate every and anything associated with that treatment. For me, that happened somewhere in September. Now it's February, and I'm still dealing with it. And unfortunately, I probably will be for at least another year; I'm handcuffed to this hell until they decide I just can't cut it again. Then this whole sick cycle will start again. It's all just a matter of time before the world comes crashing down around me again, before I'm spat on and stomped on and left with nothing but my pride to keep me afloat. The only difference this time, I'll know how to deal with it.
I'll walk along the high road, just like I did before, just like I'm doing now, just like I'll always do. I'll keep my feelings to myself, even if I want to let them all be known, and blast this entire organization that I'm supposed to be so proud to play for. I'll bite my tongue, smile and play my ass off for them, until they slap the plane ticket out of town in my hand. Why, you might ask? It's simple, it all goes back to that one little thing: Pride. My pride won't let me do any different. If I didn't have that, I'd tank every single game I played on purpose; while the shots were going towards the net, I'd be dancing along the red line, sticking my tongue out at the ref and saying "You can't give me a penalty, I'm not over" until someone came and checked me through the boards. If I didn't have my pride to remind me that I'm better than that, that I'm better than the way this organization has treated me, that I'm better than the organization, they'd be in a bad way right about now. Fortunately for them, I have my pride, and it's there to remind me that no matter what they do to me, I can rise above it all. And that's one thing they’ll never take away from me. Because that is one part of me that this jersey just can't touch, no matter what it may represent.
END
© 2003 Triple X
