a shit. And so he’s looking at me and we’re both aware of this.”
“Wait,” says Adam now. “Why not?”
“What?”
“You said it was part of the game. So I don’t understand. Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why don’t you want to be an enforcer?”
They are trudging down the hill on their way to the liquor store and Rank stops walking at that moment and he pulls down his scarf so Adam can look him full in the face. Adam finds a patch of ice and deliberately slides a couple steps like a little kid would, until he notices Rank is just standing there on the sidewalk waiting to tell him something.
“Because I could kill a guy, Adam.”
Adam’s jaw actually drops. Rank can’t help but feel affection for him — he’s not like anybody else on the planet. He doesn’t possess the same frames of reference.
“Seriously?” says Adam.
“Yeah, seriously. Or give him brain damage. It’s a very easy thing to do.”
“But that’s unconscionable — that he would want you to do that.”
“Yes — thank you!” exclaims Rank. “But it’s like people don’t really believe in it. They think death is . . . like a dream. Like it’s something out of stories. They don’t realize it’s . . . always . . . right fucking there. Just hovering over everything we do. It’s always waiting for an opening, and this coach, Francis, he’s there dying to let it loose.”
Adam opens his mouth but instead of saying something, starts walking again, crunching snow. Rank follows him.
“OK — go on,” says Adam.
“Well, since he’s looking at me, I have to put up my hand, right? I can’t just whistle a tune and pretend I didn’t hear him or whatever. So it’s just me and a couple of other guys, the captain and the goaltender, but it’s pretty much all about me at that moment because I’m the meathead, right?”
“Right,” says Adam.
“So that’s when he says it: Tonight’s the night, boys. You either fight tonight or you leave right now.”
“Was he looking at you when he said it?”
“Well he actually followed up with: You got that, Rankin? So, you know, not a lot of ambiguity.”
“So what did you say?”
“I said: Bill Masterton. Ted Green. Ed Kea.”
“Who are they?”
“Those are the names of guys who got their heads bashed in playing for the NHL.”
“Did Francis know that?”
“Yeah, I assume, because at this point he goes completely apeshit. Face turns purple. It’s like he can’t breathe for a second, like he’s having a heart attack. And then all of a sudden he starts yelling in this high, really gross voice, like he’s trying to sound like an old lady talking to a little kid: Oh! Are we afraid we’re going to hurt ourselves out there? Are we worried we might get an owie? Big boy like you, Rankin?”
“So he thought you were worried about yourself.”
“No he fucking didn’t, Adam, everyone in the room knew I wasn’t worried about getting hurt myself, he was just trying to shame me into cracking skulls.”
“So what then?”
“So then intermission’s over and he drops the old-lady voice, and the purple goes out of his face a little — you know it’s all an act, really,” says Rank — interrupting himself when this revelation hits him. “On one level, yes it’s real, yes he’s really and truly pissed, but on another he’s just doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do.”
“I know what you mean,” says Adam, to Rank’s surprise.
“So he stands aside to let us back out onto the ice and he’s just like, All right boys, you have your marching orders. And he points at the other guys, the captain and the goalie and he’s like — you guys gonna kick some ass out there or what? And they’re like, yeah, sure, even though it’s idiotic. Just a stupid way of trying to save face. He’s telling the goalie to just grab the first guy that comes anywhere near him, no matter what he’s doing. We’re gonna go out there and create mayhem boys, he’s saying. We’re gonna show them well and truly who they are fucking with tonight. Is everyone clear on that? And all the guys are like, Uh-huh, yeah.”
“And what about you?” asks Adam.
“No, I’m just staring back at him because he’s been staring at me pretty much this whole time. So finally it’s: And what about yourself Mr. Rankin? Still worried you might get a boo-boo or are you ready to kick some ass? And I don’t say anything.