andy cannon
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Everything posted by andy cannon
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Most of us have jobs we would only do in exchange for a salary. It must be a little surreal to be paid for something that other people do for fun. I remember a passage in North Dallas Forty where one of the characters complained that when they demanded that management treat them better they were told that it was only a game and whenever they wanted to loosen up and have fun, management told them this is a serious business.
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At least it's all in good spirit, shenanigans rather than bullying.
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Coach Hayes is an oasis of calm responsibility in a desert of rational thought.
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Boys will be boys!
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Noah The first thing I noticed was that he had the nerve to look comfortable. The second thing I noticed was that he was sitting in my locker. I stopped dead. Then every miserable emotion I'd been carrying since the trade detonated at once. "Who the fuck gave him my locker?" Twenty heads swiveled towards me. Lemaire looked up from untying a skate lace. He didn't leap to his feet. He didn't apologize. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty
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Now I am thinking of a scene where Noah (and it absolutely would have to be Noah) is missing a jersey so he sniffs his way through the dressing room searching everyone's locker.
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Poor Noah! Not only is his arch rival entertained by his volatile emotions, but his friends orchestrate a reaction.
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Almost all hockey novels make a reference to the distinctive smell of the ice. As best as I can ascertain, the ice is not standard H2O but is some chemical compound. I have never been close enough to the ice in an arena to distinguish the aroma of the ice from the eye-watering fragrance of the fans, so I am accepting it on faith.
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Jackson After arriving a few days later, the first thing I learned about Philadelphia was that their Human Resources department employed people who looked as though they apologized to furniture after bumping into it. "My name's Emily," the young woman said as she hurried across the players' parking lot, clutching a clipboard tightly enough to bend it. "I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't keep you waiting." "You were early." "Oh." She blinked. "I was?" "You've actually bee
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It was so much worse because the opponent was the Penguins! That's one of those rivalries that transcend the word "Hatred".
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TBH I have never created characters less self aware than these two. Only the narrator of Blame it on the Eggnog even comes close.
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I remember a few years ago when the Flyers traded Claude Giroux, superstar player, captain, literally the face of the franchise--- a banner hung on the outside of the arena with his face fifty feet tall. I think he was fairly phlegmatic about since he was traded to a team in playoff contention, but the Philly fans were sad and still miss him.
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Jackson Three Months Later I hated meetings almost as much as I hated losing championships. The first usually ended with accountants explaining why the salary cap was everyone's problem but theirs. The second stayed with me for months. Unfortunately, today's meeting promised both. I looked through the glass wall of Chicago Wolves General Manager Brian Keller's office towards the practice rink below. Morning skate had finished half an hour ago. Equipment staff drifted a
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Thank you! Heated Rivalry is a huge inspiration. I have watched the scene where Shane and Ilya sit and the table with Shane's parents so many times I have memorized the dialogue. Also the "stupid Canadian Wolfbird" scene. Just superb character development and writing.
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Jackson's POV coming up.
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Thanks! I hope you enjoy!
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There are a couple of popular genres that leave me cold, so I know what you mean. I hope you find something to keep your interest!
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Noah It is a truth universally acknowledged that Jackson Lemaire is a fucking asshole who had somehow accumulated an entirely unreasonable amount of hockey glory, yet here I was, sulking as I watched him on the cusp of lifting the championship trophy. Adding to the insult was the memory of his Chicago Wolves team eliminating us from the competition just two weeks ago. The insufferable smirk on his face. And that playoff beard! Mine looked like a few bits of dryer lint stuck on my chin. His
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Noah Lindholm and Jackson Lemaire have spent six years trying to beat each other during hockey games. Now they're expected to play on the same line for the Philadelphia Bobcats, and neither is happy about it. At first, everything is a battle: practices, power plays, stubborn personalities and a locker room determined to tease them into getting along. But somewhere between a children's hospital visit, team barbecues, delayed flights and countless hours on the ice, rivalry gives way to something quieter. Neither notices that conversations last longer, silences grow easier, or that they're becoming each other's first choice for company.
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chapter ### Chapter Thirty one Snow fell rarely and never stayed long in Penmere . It arrived one Friday evening on a wind from the north, settled briefly upon the rooftops and the higher slopes beyond the harbour, then disappeared before midday beneath rain drifting in from the sea. Christopher watched the last patches melting outside the kitchen window while the kettle boiled. Marco was attempting to understand the coffee machine. "It should not require this many
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--- A few days later the sea had forgotten its anger. The storm had passed east during the night, leaving behind washed pavements, broken branches and a harbour littered with driftwood. Fishing boats returned one by one as the swell settled into the familiar winter rhythm that everyone in Penmere recognised. The wind still carried a sharp edge, though it no longer possessed the voice that had shaken the cliffs. Christopher walked along the promenade with his hands in the pock
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Rain swept across the summit until the standing stones appeared only as pale shadows within the darkness. The sea struck the cliffs below with such force that the ground trembled beneath Christopher's feet. Marco stood just beyond the circle beside the outer stones where Vale had vanished. Neither of them spoke. Beyond the harbour, the clouds were breaking apart, revealing a narrow strip of pale sky above the sea. Marco rested both hands upon the stone. He turned when he heard Christop
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The wind drove sheets of rain across the summit. Christopher climbed the last few steps towards the circle while Marco remained behind. The ancient stones emerged and vanished again beneath curtains of spray. Water streamed between them, carrying soil and broken leaves towards the cliffs. Christopher stopped within the circle. For a long moment nothing happened. The storm roared around him. Then, quite naturally, he became aware that someone else stood opposite him. Vale. He looke
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