way.
Once I’d showered, calmed down, and changed into something that didn’t smell like tonight’s game, and once the reporters had cleared out of the locker room, I sat down on the bench to start going through the hats.
“Anything good?” Andersson dropped onto the bench beside me. “Anybody send you panties this time?”
“Guess we’ll see.” That had been my first hat trick. In between all the hats, someone had tossed in a pair of blue lace panties. Five seasons later, I still hadn’t heard the end of it, and it always came up if someone got a hat trick. Especially if that someone was me.
“Maybe you got a jock strap this time,” Collier suggested.
“Yeah, maybe.” I looked up at him, grinning. “If I did, I’ll give it to you so you can wear something clean for a change.”
“Oooh,” the other guys chimed in.
Collier just rolled his eyes.
I took another hat from the box and was about to set it aside. It was just a generic Snow Bears hat—there were always a few dozen of those—but it felt different. Like it was… unbalanced somehow. Curious, I turned it over, and a folded piece of paper had been clipped to the inside.
That was definitely new, though fans did find all kinds of innovative ways to give us notes and little gifts. Before the arena had cracked down on security, it was pretty much a daily thing to find a couple of notes under my windshield wiper blades.
Tucked into a hat after a hat trick? Definitely new.
Not every message I received was particularly friendly or flattering, though, and ever since one of the guys on another team got some death threats three seasons ago, I’d had a flicker of dread whenever I opened something like this. I’d had some messages from assholes who wanted me to know I was the worst forward they’d ever seen, that I should go back to Missouri and let the professionals play hockey, and a few comments that didn’t need to be repeated speculating about my sexuality.
Heart pounding the way it always did when I had a letter or a note, I carefully tugged the paper free from its clip inside the hat.
It was a single sheet of lined paper, and on it were two notes—one in what was definitely a kid’s handwriting, the other an adult. I paused to wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans, then read the kid’s half of the note:
Dear Jase Kelly,
I’m 11 and I’m a big fan of you and the Snow Bears. For my birthday, I’d really like an autograph, but I can’t come to games. :( Is there any way I can get one?
Your biggest fan,
Dallas McKenzie
I stared at the note for a moment. I was relieved it wasn’t hate mail or a death threat, of course, but the request definitely had my attention. An autograph? Hell, yeah. Any time a kid wanted one, the answer was yes, no questions asked. A kid who was a fan but couldn’t come to games? Definitely, yes. But where would I send it? I read on.
Dear. Mr. Kelly,
As you can see, my daughter is a big fan. She has two Kelly jerseys and watches Snow Bears games religiously. We live locally, but because of some medical issues, coming to a game is impossible. Still, it would mean the world to her if she could meet you or if I could get my hands on a personalized autograph for her.
Please let me know if anything can be arranged.
Thank you from your biggest fan’s dad,
Devin McKenzie
Below that was an email address and a phone number.
I got requests for autographs all the time, and everyone on the team routinely visited children’s hospitals and charities, so it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. This was the first time one of those requests had come to me this way, though—attached to a hat tossed on the ice with no way of knowing if it would actually reach me. Or if they’d ever get the chance to throw it in the first place. Hat tricks weren’t exactly an everyday thing.
It seemed like an overly complex way to reach out to me, but none of us made our email addresses public, and the hockey club or our managers handled correspondence. They passed on fan mail pretty frequently, but a lot of it got lost in the shuffle, too. Some fans had told us at signing events and open practices that they’d sent us letters or emails, but never heard back,