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***Beavie*** · 12-04-2024, 04:53 PM

The sounds of skate blades carving the frozen lake can be heard. Breaking up the peaceful sound is the slapping of hockey sticks and a frozen puck being launched for a pass down ice. Surrounding the lake is a vast mountain with evergreen trees standing tall with layers for snow on top. The rays of the sun shine off the white blanket of snow on this picture perfect Winter’s day. A great day for hockey.

Outlooking the lake is a man at a wooden cabin. He has a thick winter coat and his appearance is obscured by the flare of the sun on this beautiful winter’s day. The mystery man is seen talking on the phone, leaning against the post. He is speaking to a Podcast host.

“SMJHL super agent Jason Rose joins us here on the line who represents one of the most anticipated prospects in years. Jason, give us the 4-1-1 on the kid here.”

The Agent’s voice is somewhat obscured by the signal of the phone, but he is audible to the host.

“Hey, morning Wayne. Well, you may not believe this but, he’s up here on Carter Lake playing pick-up.”

“What!?” The host sounds shocked. Dumbfounded by the idea of kids who love hockey playing pond hockey on a lovely winter's day.

“Yeah, with a bunch of other kids. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Pricey pond hockey-”

Record Scratch.

“Non, non, non. What is that?!”

In a room at night, two men stand at the front of a computer. The only light on is the computer screen which gives a silhouette of them. There is a tall young man standing. He stands over six feet, likely of considerable weight too, but seems fit. In the chair, the man appears to be normal size with a short haircut.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” The person on the computer sounds offended by what the other person has to say.

“First… Super agent?” The man’s accent is somewhat thick. Clearly French is his first language, though his comprehension of English is strong. “You are blowing smoke up your rear!”

“We need to add some hype-”

“And ‘most anticipated?’ Jason, I declared for the draft late. There is not even a guarantee I’d be in the first round!”

“Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch…”

“AND PRICEY POND HOCKEY!? Why does the host seem so SHOCKED at the idea of kids playing pond hockey!?”

“You played Pond Hockey as a kid!”

The young player is not having it. He shouts.

“Not on Carter Lake! Where on earth is that?!”

“Well, we changed the name of it since ‘Lac Aux Castor’ not everyone may understand.”

“It is Beaver Lake in English. That is not too hard to say, non? And it is in Montreal, not the rocky… Uhg”

He covers his face, groaning.

“Please scrap this idea. It sounds like a generic introduction to a video game or something.”

“Come on, people wouldn’t use this in a video game. Let alone for five years in a row.”

“Please…”

There is genuine pain in the French man’s voice. The person making the video slumps in his chair.

“Well, what is your big idea?”

Putting his large hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Do not think big. Think real. This is my story. I prefer to be authentic.”

The works speak to him.

“Real… Real… Real story… ” He taps his keyboard. “I like that. How about… This?”

[Image: CPWZ7Nr.png]

Presenting

Lac Aux Castor || Lake Beaver

Mount Royal, Montreal, Quebec

The grips of winter are over and beautiful Lake Beaver in Montreal has become a perfect place to escape the city somewhat and enjoy nature. The trees have come alive within the city with a lush green. Birds are chirping, and with a look up on Mount Royal, in the right spot, you might get a breathtaking view of the city. Some pets are leashed, enjoying a walk with their owners, while others are floating out on the lake. It is a perfect day. Sat on a bench looking out on the water is a young man. He’s rather large in size, with his six foot four frame having him stand over most people even without his skates. There is some weight to him, but he always jokes ‘The abs are underneath’ and there is some truth, with his cardio being better than most his size. His short dark hair has a slight spikiness to it. His face is clean, though he’s attempting to grow some stubble. Wait just a few years, and it might be quite the beard. Wearing a workout shirt and shorts with a belt bag around his waist, he is taking a breather after his workout for the day. Looking at his watch, he checks his time.

“A bit over fourty-two minutes.” He mutters to himself in French. “Hopefully before next season I can get it down another minute.”

Claude L’Castor. Goaltending prospect who is hoping to get his name called in a few weeks at the SMJHL Season 80 Draft. The young man, born and raised in near-by Laval, travelled here many winter days with the lake frozen over to skate with his mom, or, when his dad was around-

Playing hockey.

Almost always seen as the ‘big kid,’ he was a dream for a coach of many sports. His High School’s Football coach tried to get him to try the sport as early as Middle school. His basketball team wanted him to play center for them. But like any Montreal kid, Hockey was his game. On his wall as a kid, he had a poster of Brick Wall, former goaltender for the Montreal Patroites. He was heartbroken that he finished his career in Atlanta of all places. He got over it, eventually.

Wearing goalie gear felt like wearing armour to him. Intimidating, cool, at times can be expressive. It took some time for him to get used to the position, nearly caving in and switching to a winger or defence as a kid in hopes of more playing time, but he stuck to it. After he started to show promise, his friends joked ‘The Beaver might as well build a dam in that net, he won’t leave!’ and to that he quipped ‘Non, I am the dam!’ It got some laughs from his friends and the nickname stuck, further motivating him. Now, he’ll get his name called to play in the top junior league in the world.

It’s a shame he won’t be able to share it with someone who was a major part in his journey.

His Mama has stayed by his side, keeping him together and happy. But there was one man who told him to keep going in the face of adversity. Someone who, despite not being able to be there in person each game, made sure he had his gear through all his growth spurts and called to ask him about how he was doing. He nurtured his growth and love of the game and told him that he could go whatever path in life and he’d support him.

His Papa. Rene L’Castor.

Whenever he goes here, Claude always thinks of him.

Such as one time years ago-

[Image: CPWZ7Nr.png]

-Childhood-

Lac Aux Castor Gelé|| Frozen Lake Beaver

Mount Royal, Montreal, Quebec

“How does my gear look, Papa?”

A young kid shouts to his dad as he struggles to stand up with his goaltender gear on with his skates. The gear does not seem to be too over the top. Though it isn’t exactly cheap, it is far from top of the line. Suppose even someone with the ability to spend on good pads may not wish to splurge on something a kid is likely to outgrow within a year or two.

he kid is a bit chubby, taller than some of the other kids on the ice. His cheeks are thick and to a modern audience, may remind you of the kid from the movie ‘Up.’ His dad is wearing a trench coat and sports jacket, well kept and groomed. He has a thick beard, not yet having any greys but they are sure to come with this trouble maker. He has in his hands a catcher’s chest protector for the kid to help him in case there’s any shots going to his body, at least as a temporary measure. The dad tussles his kid’s hair and smiles.

“Like a true goaltender, Claude!”

“I don’t know. People may think I play baseball with this.”

“Haha, I told you, we want to see if you like hockey first. Then we will get a bit better gear. I think for some pond hockey this will do just fine for today.”

The young Claude puts on his all white hockey mask and gives his best ‘game face’ for his dad.

“There you are! That’s the face of a tough goaltender!”

Sitting back down on the bench, he grabs his thermos with coffee and looks.

“The kids are waiting for you. Remember to have fun, and I’ll be watching!”

Claude waves at his dad and picks up his stick. He skates towards where the rest of the kids are playing. Some of the kids have Montreal Patroites jerseys on sporting their favourites, and mixed in are a few from the Quebec City Citadelles. The sides are decided at random by tossing sticks into a circle and one parent volunteering to play ‘official’ blindly throwing them to each side.

The game between the kids would go on for over an hour. These young tykes have limitless energy. For his first time in net, the young Claude L’Castor would not do too bad. His dad, Rene, shouting with encouragement whenever he’d make a save and trying not to break out in laughter to himself whenever he’d fall down. Claude mostly would try his best to mimic the goaltenders he saw on television. He got a general butterfly position and whenever he’d see a puck leave the ice, he’d wave his glove as if he was about to make a highlight real glove save.

But it was clear he got down on himself. These kids were not exactly sharpshooters, but when the first goal got in, sliding between his legs as he forgot to cover the five-hole, he would slam his stick onto the pond ice.

“You can get them next time, Claude!” His dad would shout.

As the game would go on, each goal against him would make Claude feel worse. He’s playing for the first time, yes, but he wants to show everyone he can be good, at least, not let his ‘teammates’ down.

The ‘game’ would end with Claude’s team winning by a score of 12-11. Truly a masterclass in defense.

Rene would help his son load his new goalie gear into the car and the two would go down to the local coffee and donuts chain (Is it Tim Horton’s in this universe? It was named after a hockey player) for some hot chocolate and snacks. The kid would be unusually quiet for the drive home to Laval. Trying to spark conversation, Rene goes back to the game.

“Congratulations on your first win, Claude! The first of many.”

The boy pouts, looking out at the snowy roads.

“But I let in so many goals.”

Sipping his hot chocolate, Rene tries to cheer him up.

“And so does Brick Wall and you love him.”

Claude mumbles something inaudible. Sports, while a great avenue for getting fit and active, are a way for someone to learn tricks which they can carry off the field of play. In this case, this is one for Claude.

“Here is a little fact for you, Claude, some of the best goaltenders in the world let in one goal for every ten shots or so. There are times they have an off game, but they still win. Then there are times where they play well but lose. That is life. You think they get frustrated too after letting in a goal?”

“I guess…” The young Claude sighs and takes a slurp of his hot chocolate. “Chaud! Tres Chaud!”

This creates a chuckle from his father. He tries to get back on track.

“I will also admit, as a Lawyer, I do not win all my cases. Sometimes, in fact, I need to ‘settle’ with the other party because we have lost before we started. Then there have been cases where I worked really hard on a case and we still ended up losing, and other times I got lucky and won on a technicality. But I get up the next day and still work. You know what I tell myself?”

“Non, Papa.” The young boy shakes his head.

“There is always the next one.”

“The next one?” Claude repeats in French.

“I try to learn if I can and work hard for the next one. When you let one in, what you do is you pick yourself up, and try something different for the next one. Because that is what the best do. The best hockey players. The best lawyers. They keep moving. You also had your first game, you are bound to make mistakes.”

Rene asks his son. He does not want to force his kid to play a position he does not want, but also doesn't want him giving up after just one bad day.

“Before you let in that first goal, how did you feel?”

“I was having a blast!” Excited, Claude asks. “Did you see when I stopped the puck with my stick then my pad?”

“Oui, exactly! So what do you say? Do you want to try again next week with them?”

The young kid looks out the window. As they head down the road, they see a billboard for the Patriotes. Seeing Brick Wall making a big save gives him a fuzzy feeling. One day, that is going to be him.

Nodding his head, the young Claude is stoked. “Oui!”

Rene tussles his kid’s hair.

“And remember, if the puck goes in-”

“-There is always the next one!” He repeats after his dad as the two head home.

The two went back the next week.

Claude would do better. Though still letting in a number of goals, keeping it in single digits and being less hard on himself.

The mantra of bouncing back after a mistake, reminding himself to try again, learn, and get better has been in his head for years. Even after his dad passed away, it’s sort of stuck with him. Never giving up even after one bad day.

[Image: CPWZ7Nr.png]

-Present Day-

Sitting on the bench, though Rene is not there physically, he always feels like his dad is next to him, rooting for him. As he is prepping for the big draft, he can imagine his dad sitting next to him on the bench., his dad’s firm grip grabbing him by the shoulder. Teasing him a bit about how he’s a slow poke for doing forty-two minutes on his 10km run. But the thing he knew he’d say right now.

“I am proud of you, kid.”

He feels his phone ring in his bag and digs in to pull it out. The caller ID reads ‘Agent J. Rose.”

Picking it up, he answers in English. His comprehension is great, almost on part with his French, but his accent is clear.

“Jason.” He answers. It is his agent, Jason Rose. He is an anglophone from Toronto who works in sports media relations. He ended up meeting Claude at a hockey tournament in Mississauga and, after a talk with his mother and coach, chose to represent the goaltending hopeful as he attempts to transition into a playing career. He's not exactly a father figure, but the man has been a good help to him as he transitions into adulthood and hockey. “How goes it?”

“I’m doing good, Claude. I’ve been lining up your schedule for draft week here. The Junior draft doesn’t always get nearly as much attention, but there’s always a few radio shows here and there ready to meet some players."

"In Whitehorse, you said?" He clarifies. "I do not think they have many radio stations at the North Pole."

"Haha, yeah the league's going out of the box this year. But we will be in Whitehorse until the day before, then we'll fly up. Plus there is almost always something silly and low stress for social media so hopefully it will get you prepared.”

“That sounds good.” Claude usually hates cameras, but if he’s comfortable, then his personality shines. Much like many goaltenders, he’s quite the character. But he has a big question to ask.

“What about the teams, Jason? Any interviews?” He wonders. It took him a bit longer to commit to the draft than most others. He’s been making some rumblings around his local leagues over the past season and with a very strong second half, emerged as the league’s top goaltender. Though leaving his mom alone didn’t feel right. Not since his father’s passing. But she encouraged him to chase his dreams and trusted his gut. He wants to take a step up to junior hockey.

“I’ve sent some feelers out. I’m not going to say there are any promises for an interview, but I think you might be able to meet with a handful at least.”

“Being a goalie is not exactly easy.” He admits. “Each team only really has two, and maybe a third to take the load in a pitch. Things can be cutthroat.”

“Well, just in case, you have worked on your shot…” Jason half-jokes with Claude. The French-Canadian rolls his eyes.

“Better than you. You could not hit the big side of the barn. But I trust myself as a goalie.”

“Just being safe.” Rose chuckles on the side of the phone. “I’ll send you the schedule the day before you fly out. I trust you. Take care. Bonne journée.” He says the little French he does know.

“Talk to you later.”

Claude hangs up and sees a text message from his mother. The message translates to “Give me the recipe you want to try and I will pick the groceries up for supper tonight.”

The goaltender opens a tab with his data and sends her a recipe for Antipasto Baked Smothered Chicken. Something easy but should be delicious and healthy for him. After sending the text with a heart, he puts his phone away to begin the second part of his jog.

[Image: CPWZ7Nr.png]

Home

7:07 pm Local Time

Though far from a palace, this place has been a nice cozy home for what Claude and his mother need. After Papa Rene’s passing several years ago, she made a choice to downsize to an apartment, going for a two bedroom apartment. It isn’t exactly cheap in Montreal. But with her own job as a secretary in the firm her father worked, along with some insurance payments, they have made it work and done everything they could to make it home. In the halls are various family photos, not just with the late patriarch of the family, but just of the two together and their other relatives. A great chance to remind them who they still have in their lives.

Claude sits in his room. For a guy, he keeps the room somewhat clean, with only a few clothes on the floor. Adorning his wall is an SHL calendar where he keeps track of important dates. The day he flies out and the day of the draft are both circled heavily on the calendar. Having some food in his belly, Claude sits at his computer desk. There are some nicknacks on the desk with several small figures on a shelf near-by. Much of it is small bobble heads of various players, a couple of figures from video games he likes, and even some wrestlers. Most notably wrestlers like Cyrus Truth, with Alyster Black, Chris Peacock, Danny Toner, and ‘The Kitsune Warrior’ Katsu.

On his computer screen he has the SMJHL site open and he’s nervously flipping through the teams, looking at their players and stats, especially the goaltenders. With his draft class having several notable goaltending prospects, there’s only so many spots open for him.

And that thought is driving him mad. He looks through and talks to himself, making note of some of the stats and teams.

“Quebec… They just won the championship and they have their goaltenders for another year or two…” He already mentally talks himself out of any hopes to play for his home province team.

“Let us see. Kelowna has the first pick…” That fact will change soon. “They are a decorated team, but are in rebuild mode now. Could be an opening, but I might as well kiss being first overall au revoir.”

He knows he is not the leading prospect. Even if he was near the top, it would be a rare feet to see a goaltender first overall.

“Nevada… Vancouver, those teams are looking to bounce back. San Diego, they had three goaltenders? Guess I can kiss the idea of getting a tan goodbye. Hmm, what teams have a goaltender being called up?”

He scans through the goaltender list to try to remember which ones have just finished their fourth and final year of the league. “I see a few. Some on decent teams. I may be the back-up, but it would be quite the place to learn. But would they pick me? Honza Havran, Cauliflower, Baulder, Jack Ryan, this is a deep class for us goaltenders-”

Standing in his doorway, his mom leans against the frame of the door. She’s short, just a bit over five feet tall. He did not get his height from her. If anything, Claude is an anomaly in the family. She taps the door to get her son’s attention.

“My boy, you need to give yourself a break from the draft.” She sounds somewhat concerned. “It is driving you mad.”

Turning around in his chair, Claude removes his headphones from around his neck. He looks back on the screen and looks at the time. It is already past seven. He has been on the computer looking at the list for an hour.

“Maybe you have a point…”

Reaching on his bed, he has his goaltender’s mask for his school’s team. The mask has a red base with some white trimmings and two rockets shooting in the air. His number 70 is on the chin of the mask and there’s a cartoon painting of a beaver on the top of the helmet. The character is quite the favourite with his teammates and some people in his school.

“But you know how important this draft is for me.”

“I know, but you worry and stress so much. Maybe you should take tomorrow off? No need to train, do not look at the stats. Just take it easy.”

Turning his mask around, Claude L’Castor looks at the back. After his dad’s passing he added a small “RLC” written on the back. Just as a way to keep his father part of his journey.

He looks up to his mom. Alone the past several years. Losing your partner is terrible, especially to an accident. She’s done her best to remain strong, but he’s always worried.

Putting his mask down, he gets up and walks up to his mom.

“I will. But can I ask you something?”

“You can.”

He clears his throat. “Are you okay? With me moving out soon for hockey?”

“I am. I told you this.”

“I just want to make sure. I do not want you to be lonely. These past few years have not been easy on both of us. And what if I get drafted on the West coast? I will be far from you.”

“Claude. You are a talented player. If playing a game you love means you see some new places, who am I to say no?”

“And you sure you will be able to handle it?”

“If you are concerned with me being lonely, I talked to our landlord and he is going to let me get a cat. I have a group of ladies who I have been regularly going for coffee with on the weekends, I am trying.”

Putting her hand on Claude’s forearm, she pats him. “I know you miss Papa. I miss him too. But life moves on and he is watching over us from heaven.”

The religious imagery does not connect with Claude as well as her mom wishes. He has not gone to a Church service in about eight years.

“I do not know if we have a literal guardian angel watching over us…”

“Well, we still have the memories. The impression he made on us. In that, he is always with you on the ice.”

Now that is more like it. Claude gives a small smile.

“Merci.”

He gives his mom a gentle hug. He is over a foot taller than her, but she also protects him too.

“We will both be okay. But I am worried you will leave a pile of dishes on your own like you did here.”

Of course.

Always the ulterior motive.

Groaning, Claude lets go of the hug.

“I will do it. I will clean the dishes. Give me a minute.”

“Merci. Then get some rest. You deserve it. Je t'aime.”

“Je t'aime aussi.”

His mother leaves the room, giving Claude a chance to gather himself before doing the second worst chore next to shoveling the driveway in a Quebec snowstorm, the dishes. Looking down at his mask, he sees the memorial mark and smiles. The reminder to him of his dad always being behind him.

“Pour toi, Papa.”

Walking out of his room, Claude goes to begin a busy night of dishes.

[Image: CPWZ7Nr.png]

Word Count: 4140

***fancey13*** · 12-04-2024, 06:07 PM

This might be one of the most impressive media pieces I’ve seen for a first-gen off rip. Great work @Beavie! Looking forward to part 2!! Smile

***HabsFanFromOntario*** · 12-04-2024, 06:11 PM

Fantastic media Beavie!

*Carpy48* · 12-05-2024, 02:57 AM

Great story! I don't know how long that formatting must've taken, very impressive (but next time less black text for us dark mode people maybe? Smile

).

MrPrime · 12-05-2024, 03:10 AM

Fantastic stuff!
I really enjoyed the character development with this story. :D

***Beavie*** · 12-05-2024, 06:47 PM

12-05-2024, 03:10 AMMrPrime Wrote: Fantastic stuff!
I really enjoyed the character development with this story. :D

Thanks to you, and all the peeps who mentioned here and on Discord. I will see about the text issue for dark mode users next time. I hope to see something from you but, looking at your player, to get something... All I have to do is...

Say his name.

GabeyD · 12-10-2024, 01:45 PM

This is incredible nice work!

GabeyD · 12-10-2024, 01:45 PM

This is incredible nice work!

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