Which Peter Brady? You all know the kid who scooped ice cream at Haskell's Ice Cream Hut and scooped stories for his school's newspaper.
But what about the Peter Brady who played for the Boston Olympics? Or the Peter Brady who scored four goals for the University of Vermont? Or perhaps Losier meant the goalie whom the Vancouver Canucks drafted in 1997?
Losier, a smart cookie and real legal eagle, may have been referring to my performance as our team’s second goalie. Sure, Dan Barros is our man between the pipes. He made the sure-handed snares and smothered loose pucks when I wasn’t in front of him—like in the in the second period. I had dropped to my knees as a Caps’ player prepared to shoot from the top of the slot. The puck darted to my left, along the ice—so I kicked out my left skate to send it wide of the net. Barros grunted his approval of that one!
He wasn’t so happy when, later that period, I clunked him on the head as I dove to the ice to trap a loose puck.
“Ugh,” he groaned. But together we had made the save.
Then we went on to topple the Caps, 8–3.
I must have been so much in the netminder’s mind-set that, after a shower, I grabbed Barros’s towel instead of my own. I used his clean one—a plush light blue beauty—forcing him to use my frayed purple cloth (at least it was clean). Still, it was an awkward locker room moment that we won’t soon forget, especially because I’m writing about it.
Time to change. Dressed in Eddie Bauer Cargo pants and a DKNY plum-colored short-sleeve shirt—the kind Mike Brady’s second son might have worn way back in 1970-somethin’—I joined my teammates in the donut lounge, where Losier made fun of my stylin’ shirt or congratulated me for my shot-blocking ability. I’m not sure which.
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