Page 61 of Ice Devil

Or maybe they were being made up as time passed.

CHAPTER 14

Beck

Portland Herald: The Kendrick Brothers are on the Verge of Making History

USA Today: Against the Odds, the Portland Hellions Have Made the NHL Playoffs

Seattle Sentinel: The Devil Certainly Came Down to Georgia with a Win for the Portland Hellions Against the Atlanta Panthers, Clinching a Position in the NHL Playoffs

The Chicago Sun, Sloane Winters: A Peek Inside the Life of a Star Shifter Hockey Player

Sloane: “They call you the Devil on the ice. Is that because of your power in deflection?”

Beck: “If by power you mean strength, well, certainly muscular strength is needed, but by far, the reason I was given the nickname was because players on opposing teams never knew what to expect. That’s based on training, skill, and observations done on a continual basis of key players.”

Sloane: “There are some both in and outside the field of hockey as well as other sports who believe shifters have an unfair advantage in their respective fields. How would you respond to that?”

Beck: “If by unfair advantage you mean utilizing our supposed extraordinary attributes, then I’d say every hockey player just like every football or basketball player utilizes their special skills. Some can run faster or can throw a fastball while others can’t. If you pay attention to any hockey game, you’ll notice precise movements amongst players. That’s because we are required to work as a team. There is no way for a single player, no matter how insanely talented or how beefed up his muscles, to carry a game by himself. Anyone who thinks otherwise should try playing a friendly game. Besides, other very human players have skills others don’t or advantages that rank far above others.”

Sloane: “Such as?”

Beck: “Upbringing for one. Not every child eager to play hockey professionally has the backing of their parents to help them succeed. Sure, in certain cities there are hockey rinks within thirty miles of where they live, but for others, extensive traveling is necessary, which usually means additional expenses from hotel rooms to food. Often, they have no way of attending college in a location that offers a hockey program. The same could be said for football, basketball, or soccer.”

Sloane: “You’re suggesting wealthy families have a significant advantage.”

Beck: “To a point, absolutely. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but we were lucky in that we lived in an area where hockey was revered. Not all children have that.”

Sloane: “Are there any disadvantages with being a shifter while playing sports?”

Beck: “A lot of them. Including being required to prove yourself on a regular basis. It doesn’t matter how many games you helped win or championships you have under your belt, there will always be those who require perfection. That’s a very tall order to live with on a daily basis.”

Good Morning Seattle, Garrison Wheeler: “Beck, I can’t tell you how excited all of Seattle is that both you and your brother are in the NHL playoffs. You have millions of fans out there. Just take a look at what you faced when stepping off the airplane very early this morning.”

Beck, his dimple showing as he stared directly into the camera: “I can’t lie, Garrison. I am loving life right about now.”

Garrison, chuckling as he stared at the montage of photographs of several hundred people holding colorful signs: “Well deserved. What can we expect to see in the playoffs?”

Beck: “You can expect to see more of the Devil himself. There will be no compromises, no errors. Watch out, the Hellions are coming.”

“To the Hellions!”

The cheering and applause were deafening, especially inside the small bar that was filled with sports enthusiasts. While typical, the Wild Rapids Tavern was buzzing since two homegrown boys were about to make history.

I elbowed Ford as we walked in, my brother immediately taking a bow while I did a little spin on my heels. Whistles and catcalls ensued as we walked through the crowd of well-wishers, receiving claps on the back and jabs insisting we bring home a Stanley Cup.

This was a North Bend bar and restaurant we’d been coming to for years.

“Thank you all. We’re currently taking donations for our diamond-encrusted crowns.” Ford knew how to egg them on, enjoying the hell out of his celebrity status.

Not that I wasn’t, although I’d learned over the course of the season not to believe everything you read or the hype driven into every player. We were only as good as the next win.

“Ah, go to hell,” one of the locals groused in jest.

“How heavy is thy crown, sire?” another said.

“Pittance for the paupers.”