I know this was not requested...but today is OC's 60th birthday and he deserves some more love for being lovable hotheaded fighter. Happy 60th, OC! <3
Things don't seem to go as planned for Jack O'Callahan. After months of hard work, exhaustion, long practices and avoiding injuries, he now fears for his future on the team. He remembers when the team was put together, how many different personalities were gathered in one place. He remembers getting into a brawl with Steve Christoff at sports festival in 1978, a guy who is now like one of his eighteen brothers to him.
Since he busted his knee during the pre-Olympic game against the feared Soviet Union, his days are more or less the same: wake up, get ready for a day, have breakfast, then spend most of his day at the rehabilitation, having sessions three times per day. Squeezing some time to try to see his parents, Jack and Bernadette, OC barely has any time to feel sorry for himself. Not that he really feels the need, he doesn't believe in showing weakness. At any time. Beside, lumps are part of his life, some of the scars dating back before he even laced up the skates, a reminder of his past and growing up in Charlestown.
Today, he hasn't had time to see his parents, but he can call them. He would never admit that, but he needs encouraging words of support from people who has always been there for him. Who drove him to all those junior games, who encouraged his every decision, good or bad. Who were there for him to patch him up, to disinfect bleeding wounds and to make trips to the hospital when he needed stiches. Who drove him to dentists until he decided that would mean infinite trips, and started pulling out his loosened teeth by himself while sitting on the bench.
Limping slightly, he heads to phone trailers and finds an empty one. After he leans his crutches against the wall, he sits down and calls his parent's hotel room.
After hearing it ring for a while, his mom finally picks up: "Hello?"
"Mom, it's...it's me."
"Johnny. Darling, it's John."
John. When was the last time someone called him by his real name. He has been known as OC, OCee, Hollywood or just Jack. The way his mother calls his name reminds him of when he was younger, an innocent sweet fair-haired kid, who grew up in a shadow of Bunker Hill Monument. A fair-haired boy who grew up with a brother and a sister. That same kid, who started skating at the age of nine with $15 skates.
"Mom, I am scared."
"John, my son, we are proud no matter what. Look how far you've come."
"I don't want you to be here for nothing."
"Jack, what can we do? Johnny is injured," his mother's voice breaks. Jack hears his father trying to comfort her: "Bernie, don't worry, John is a tough guy. Do you think you can get back on the ice soon?"
"I hope so, dad. If I don't we will still stay here and watch the games."
"We will be here with you. And don't worry, you won't get cut."
For a while, Jack and his father continue debating about the Olympics and try to involve defenseman's mother into a conversation, but it seems like she doesn't want to talk about the games. Just how her son could play again.
"Mom, this is not the first time I am injured..."
He doesn't want to bother his parents with everything that has been racing through his mind. He even doesn't understand it himself. It's not like he is retiring, he will still have chances to prove himself... but at the same, he is so close to the Olympics and he would be devastated if his injury sent him home.
When he finishes the phone call, he remains seated, staring at the wall. Despite comforting words from his parents, he feels a lump in his throat. He is worried about his future, but he is determined the injury won't stop him. Not now when he is so close. He stretches his arm to grab the crutches when someone waltzes in.
"Oh, am I interrupting...OC?"
"Silky, what are you doing here?"
"Mac is snoring again. I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk. My mom is probably still awake and I thought maybe I should check on her."
"Rob's snoring again? What's new here? I have just finished, I am leaving..."
His friend from Boston University rests his hand on his shoulder: "Sit down. You don't seem like yourself."
Jack is divided between telling him and shrugging it off like it's nothing. But he looks up at Silk and realizes if anyone, he can see him broken. Jack's head falls on his chest as he mumbles: "I am...scared."
Silk leans against the wall: "About being sent home?"
Tall defenseman nods and looks up at his friend, feeling his eyes filling with tears of fear: "I don't want to go home. I don't want this to end."
As unusual as it is for them, it doesn't matter this time. Silk approaches Jack and hugs his friend, pulling him into a bear hug of a well-built hockey player: "You won't go home. You belong here, on this team. You belong on the ice in Lake Placid with the rest of us. There are nineteen guys waiting for your ass to get on the ice and you better not let us down."
Even Silk's voice breaks – he doesn't want his friend to leave. They have been teammates since university and they suffered together through sadistic practices of Herb Brooks. And OCee can't leave now. Not now.
