Chapter Text
PREFACE
“Good evening, Brawlers fans, and welcome once again to BSN’s coverage of hockey night in Boston. I’m Jack Edwards. With me in the booth as always, Andy Brickley; and our rinkside reporter is Molly Hooper. Tonight’s matchup with the visiting Hamilton Thrashers promises to be an exciting one, as the B’s have met the Thrashers twice before this season, each team has one win, and tomorrow’s matinee up in Hamilton for the home-and-home series will be a test of both teams’ stamina and resilience as only eighteen and a half hours will elapse between the start of tonight’s game and first puck drop of tomorrow’s.”
“Absolutely, Jack, it’s going to be interesting to see what lineup changes might come given the fatigue factor, especially this late in the season, only three weeks to go in the regular season, and while the Thrashers are pretty much guaranteed their spot in the play-offs, the Brawlers are still looking to secure that wild card slot.”
“Tonight’s starting goaltenders brought to you by Wainwright Bank, banking on values. You see the Thrashers’ Jack Pryne is twenty-eight, twenty-two, and seven against the Brawlers, admirable save percentage of just under ninety-one percent; he has a 1.85 goals-against average here in the Boston Garden. And in the net tonight for the Brawlers, the much-anticipated return of Sherlock Holmes after a fourteen-game absence while he recovered from an undisclosed injury.”
“Holmes has definitely not had his best season, Jack. Vezina trophy winner last year, Stanley Cup champion goalie, and he came out strong back in October but quickly had a stunning collapse which saw Anthony LoPresti in starting goal quite a bit before the All-Star break, including an impressive seven-game win streak back in early December. Holmes came back and looked more like himself for a while, then came the injury that kept him not just off the ice but out of the building and off the road for close to a month. It will be interesting—to say the least—to see if Holmes can shake off the rust and defend the house, help this Brawlers team to a win against Hamilton tonight.”
“Indeed it will be, Brick. We’ll take a break as the Boston Brawlers take the ice, and when we come back, the puck drops against the Hamilton Thrashers.”
Sherlock had held his box empty that night—rescheduled some charity raffle winners and shifted some others into his teammates’ suites—so that John would have the place to himself. His anxiety, though he tried to hide it, had been palpable and growing in the days since Sherlock had been told he was going to start in Hamilton. They both knew Sherlock was born for it, and he was clear-eyed, clear-headed, his every word and action indicating that despite his long absence, Sherlock refused to miss a beat. He was freshly recovered—as far as he was concerned, better than new—battling back any and all doubts, ignoring the negative chatter that had started as far back as November. He had set his work ethic and hockey-intelligence to their highest levels.
John would by then have ordered a top shelf whisky, and food to be brought out later, only after he was certain Sherlock had settled in. They’d talked the situation up one side and down the other, both of them were as sure as could be that Sherlock would get seamlessly back to work. But Sherlock knew John well enough by now to know he would have to see it to truly believe it.
Standing well ahead of his goal for the anthems, Sherlock played a mental movie of his own highlight reel, reviewed what he knew about the Thrashers offense. Once wide-crouched in front of the cage, he set his jaw and steadied his gaze, thumped the bottom edge of his stick-blade against the roughed-up ice in his crease. He was perfectly at home, hunkered down in those ninety-six cubic feet.
The puck dropped; the game was on. Sherlock tensed and slid slightly toward his stick side, head tilting to keep the puck-carrier in view. Kocur was there to defend him, and Mellon jitterbugged around the shooting lane, pestering the Thrashers’ offense. A furious one-timer rang the post and deflected to the middle; rebound; wrist-shot. . . Sherlock snatched the puck from the air as if it were traveling in slow motion. Save by Holmes.
CHAPTER ONE
“Sherlock Holmes and John Watson:
What The Hell, Dummy? ’s Exclusive Sit-Down with Hockey’s First Out LGBTQ Players”
posted by: Mags. 11:38a.m., July 2.
Well, wow.
Trust me when I tell you Mike and I did NOT expect to be the ones interviewing the now-even-more-famous First Out Gay Couple in a Major Sports League. Honestly, we’re dorky girls with a blog about hockey thighs and playoff beards. Any resemblance to actual sports-journalists is purely coincidental. (As if you hadn’t noticed that 53% or more of our content is gifs from 30 Rock!) But when Sherlock Holmes’s people contact your people (note: “our people” are Mike and me; we are our own, only people), offering an exclusive interview with a pair of hockey hotties who happen to be hot for each other, you don’t say no. (Incoming gif from 30 Rock featuring a crazy YES—we’re taking this story seriously but we’re still us. Watch out, here it comes.)
Phew! Glad we got that one out of the way. Upfront answers to your most burning questions, in case you want to check out early and just get back to the silly stuff:
Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were, in fact, the players in our blind item back in the spring.
They said it was OK for us to tell you that.
They are both super nice in person and on the phone.
They are both super handsome in person (and probably also on the phone).
They aren’t engaged or anything. (Mike is mentally planning their wedding attire, despite this, just to be ready in case their relationship status updates)
Did we mention they were nice? So nice.
OK, so we edited out the boring stuff like Hi, can you hear me? and introducing ourselves (we interviewed them via conference call). We talked for about forty-five minutes, sometimes about dumb stuff you don’t care about like how we decided to start the blog and hockey-geek stuff you might care about but which is not fun to describe in this format, like who we like for the upcoming season, and why Graham McInearney is the most undervalued center in the league right now.
Without further excuses or explanation, here’s the highlight reel:
Mags: First of all, congratulations on doing something really brave and just generally awesome.
SH: Thank you for saying so.
JW: Thanks. You know it was mostly an accident, though, right? [laughs] Champagne gone to my head after the Cup win.
Mike: Really?
JW: Nah, not really. But it really was spontaneous.
Mike: So Sherlock was surprised when you just said on television, “My boyfriend’s taking me home to meet his family.”
Mags: We say that to each other at least three times a day now.
JW: Do you?
Mags: We’re making a meme happen.
Mike: Not really.
SH: That’s fine. I think that could be quite fun, being a meme.
Mags: I’ll keep at it. Mike, what are you doing for lunch?
Mike: My boyfriend’s taking me home to meet his family. Anyway, if it wasn’t planned for you to come out in a live TV broadcast during Stanley Cup celebrations in the Brawlers’ dressing room—did you have any moment where you regretted it, like, Oh, man, what did I just do?
JW: I think only for however long it took Sherlock to pop his head up and say, “It’s me.” I didn’t regret it at all on my own behalf, but I had a shiver of, Is he going to be OK with this? Because of course, it isn’t my place to publicly out anybody, even my own partner.
SH: Regardless, I didn’t mind at all. I was glad of it.
JW: Other than that, I had nothing to regret. It’s never going to feel natural to me to have my personal life in the public eye, except as it relates to hockey. So after we’re through talking here, I have no future intention to talk publicly about anything personal, at all.
Mags: So if we want to know what you had for lunch. . .?
JW: Ask it now!
SH: We had banh mi from a food truck.
Mike: Nice!
JW: So, look. In the end, I think the important bit of all this, setting aside the shock-horror of coming out the way I did—we did as a couple—is that hopefully, having seen or heard about it, others will feel safer about living a truthful life even in a situation that could feel hostile. It was no risk to me—I’ve made my living, and no one’s going to intimidate or harass me in my place of work. Maybe for someone feeling that coming out is dangerous or even impossible because of the environment they’re in, they’ll look at us coming out together, as pro players of a tough game, in a national league, and feel like they can come out wherever they happen to be.
SH: Or not, as they like.
JW: Of course.
SH: There’s an important delineation between living quietly due to a wish for personal privacy, which is absolutely valid and respectable, and living in silence due to fear of harm. The existence of choice in the matter of how public to be with one’s personal life is incredibly important. People need room to choose. It’s perhaps, I hope, easier to choose to share one’s orientation when one can find evidence that it can be done literally anywhere, with anyone. If we can be queer hockey players and damn the fallout, then maybe someone who’s longed to speak up but worried for the repercussions can find a little inspiration.
JW: Well said.
Mags: I’m curious about how the team reacted, and if their reactions changed from that first night or the few days after, over time.
JW: I think everyone was so involved in celebrating the Cup win, even though chatter went around the room pretty quickly, it wasn’t really top of everyone’s mind. We got some handshakes and pats on the back on break-up day. I got some nice emails and texts.
SH: There was also a lengthy string of dirty jokes and borderline offensive chirping. Which gave me to know we were all fine. I’ve been out to the team for as long as I’ve been playing, so the only real shock for them was learning John is gay.
JW: And that the two of us are together.
Mags: How about around the league?
SH: It’s only been a few weeks, and since school’s out for summer, there’s not a lot of interaction. The league put out a nice statement of support, not for us specifically, of course. But I think it clarified the culture a bit. It’s a been a few years since they started the “Hockey is for Everyone” promotion, and I for one was relieved to learn that when faced with a practical test of its theoretical support for queer people, the league rose to the challenge of walking its talk.
JW: That was gratifying, yeah. And it was the right thing to do. I wouldn’t have expected less.
Mags: So you think that statement was genuine, and not just spin control or covering their butts ‘just in case’?
JW: I can’t speak for anyone’s personal views but now that the league is on the record, personal views have to be secondary when it comes to anything obviously tied to the league, the players, or staff. There are thousands of people employed by the league whose names no one knows; it’s equally about them and how they’re treated at their jobs. Hopefully they feel supported and maybe more secure now that the league has said unequivocally that sex and gender minorities are not going to face discrimination, and that targeting or harassing anyone isn’t going to be tolerated. It was just the right thing to do, as I said.
Mike: It’s hockey, though. It’s a macho culture. It might be even tougher for players to be out in the workplace, when the workplace—the team—is so masculine-centric, as opposed to in some office where the dynamics are more person-to-person, office politics, and so on. Not that LGBT issues don’t come up, of course, but the overt hyper-male stuff in a sports team has to create a different atmosphere.
SH: You’re right, of course. There is a certain air in the dressing room—
JW: Smelling strongly of dirty jocks and dirty socks!
[all laugh]
SH: I was going to say an air of. . .dude. Ly. Ness.
JW: Were you, really?
SH: Not remotely. But the machismo is thick, it’s true. In the end, though, we’re individuals, and we know each other quite well in some ways. The personal relationships, friendships outside of work, and so on, vary like they do in any group of colleagues. So those who know us well for our personalities and ethics and whatever other qualities are valuable to them, were sort of instantly supportive and then let it go.
JW: More folding it in than letting it go, I think.
SH: True. Yes. New information, but it doesn’t redefine us as human beings, or men on the team.
Mike: Dudes on the team.
JW: That was an astounding moment. That should be the headline. An Air of Dudeliness.
Mike: I’ll think about it. But first my boyfriend’s taking me home to meet his family. Can we ask some less serious questions to wrap up?
JW: I’m game.
SH: My life is an open book.
JW: You will pray never to have read it, once you’ve finished.
Mags: Oh, I don’t know. We’re pretty tough.
JW: True enough. Fire away.
Mike: So that’s the word you prefer, boyfriends?
JW: It’s fine, but we usually say, my man.
Mags: Love that. Do you live together?
SH: I forced John to move into my flat by attrition.
JW: That’s not strictly true. I hated my place, and my lease was up, and Sherlock’s place was more comfortable.
SH: And despite what he tells himself, he had no choice. In conclusion, yes, we’re living together.
Mike: Pretty serious then. My man asked me to sign onto his lease and I freaked and told him I can’t because my boyfriend’s taking me home to meet his family.
JW: I’m liking the meme thing.
Mags: What do you do on dates?
SH: [laughs. Laughs more. Laughs forever while Watson clears his throat.] Take him home to meet my family.
JW: Dinner and a movie! If this was one of those know-your-mate quiz shows you’d have lost already. We watch movies and eat together. On the team plane, that’s how we passed the time. Kind of how we got to know each other.
SH: Right. Yes. Dinner and a movie.
JW: You forgot that, did you.
SH: Definitely not. I did not forget.
JW: See how you are?
Mike: OK, last one. Date/Marry/Kill—
JW: Nope!
SH: Kill them all. Take their things.
Mags: Thanks, guys.
Mike: Yeah, thanks.
JW: No worries. I hope you get a million hits and a million-dollar multimedia deal.
Mike: Your lips to the hockey gods’ ears.