A Midnight Conversation

 

The Scene: a darkened Montreal cathedral on a quiet night in May. 

(A man dressed all in black approaches furtively, glancing over his shoulder before slipping through an unlocked door and stealthily advancing up the aisle to kneel before the altar. Flickering candlelight faintly illuminates the space. Is it a penitent? The Phantom of the Opera? A member of Dan Brown's Illuminati? The kneeling form draws back its hood to reveal a worried-looking Cole Caufield.)

Caufield: Um, Lord? God? God?? Are you there?

(silence)

Caufield: Hey, God? Okay, look.. I don't know if you really hang out here or not, but I thought it couldn't hurt to try.

The Almighty: (sighs) Hello Cole. Are you back to ask for "just five more inches" again? I thought I've made it pretty clear it's not going to happen. You don't just add a few inches when you're 25 years old. Sheeesh. Even my guys in Turkey couldn't pull that off. Go home to bed, kid. I've got real games to fix.

Caufield: Ha! I KNEW it! I knew You decide which players are the most deserving and you reward them for their dedication, loyalty and honesty. I KNEW it wasn't all for nothing.

God: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! That's not what I'm saying, kid. I don't care who wins. I just care who covers the spread. This portion of this sacred petition is sponsored by Bet365.

Caufield: (impatiently)  No, no! God, WHY would you do this? You gave me adversity and I overcame it. You gave me talent and I used it. Why take it away from me now?

God: Would it help if I told you it's a test? That when you finally DO score it'll feel so much better? That you'll appreciate it even more?

Caufield: No! I don't need a test! I need a goal! Please, God, you have to help me.

God: (in a thundering voice) I am displeased by you, Cole.

Caufield: But WHY? What did I do?

God: Oh, for Me's sake! I've given you all you need. You have vision, brains, speed and skill. I have blessed you with charisma and wealth. I have bestowed upon you an ability to laser a hockey puck with the precision of a butterfly's heart surgeon. I've made you invisible to the defenders' naked eye. I even sent one of My angels to coach you. Why do you always ask for more? This is the sin of greed!

Caufield: But Lord, You're the one who MADE me want more! You gave me drive and passion and ambition. Why would you do that if you wanted me to settle for ordinary? You're more confusing than NHL reffing.

God: Hey! Low blow, kid! I am mysterious. They are blind. Anyway, you're right. Forget what I said. It's all bullshit. Go out and do your thing. Grab everything you can. (silence ensues. Caufield doesn't move. God sighs) Now what, Cole?

Caufield: Just one goal, Lord. I know the flow will come if I can get just one. Can't You push a shot a bit so it bounces in? Or maybe You could make Lyon go blind, just for a second? Could You send a plague or something, just as a distraction?

God: No! There will be no plague!!

Caufield: Just a little one? Only a few locusts?

God: (wearily) Go home, Cole. Trust yourself.

Caufield: (chastened) Yes, Lord. Thank you, Lord. Could I just ask...

God: NOOO!

Caufield: Okay, okay! I'm leaving. I'll think about what you said.

(Caufield trudges back down the aisle and leaves the church, checking for observers as he goes. Inside, the twin doors of the confessional creak open. Nick Suzuki and Juraj Slafkovsky ease out into the dim nave, grin and fist bump.)

Slaf: Do you think he bought it?

Suzuki: For sure! He's so superstitious. Back in camp, I took him to a fortune teller in Old Montreal. I gave her a note with her "prediction" on it. She told him her spirit guide was feeling something about the number 50 and did that number mean anything to him. He said maybe it might. She was quick on her feet. She said she saw him surrounded by smiling people, being treated like a hero, and it all had to do with the number 50. And, you know what happened next!

Slaf: Suzy! You're so sneaky! I bet you "god" gives Cole a goal next game.

Suzuki: All part of being the captain, my friend. You find out what guys need, and you help if you can.

(The linemates leave the building and start walking down the street. A minute passes in silence.)

Slaf: Hey, Suzy? Did you ever make me think you were God?

Suzuki: (smiling) If I did, did it work?

(Suzuki walks away as Slafkovky look after him, wondering.)