The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

I paused the show I was watching and raised my eyebrows, sitting up straight on the mattress. “I don’t know. What?”

“I found it,” he said even as he skid across the floor in his pajamas, his cell phone clutched in his hand.

That had me perking up. “What did you find?”

Zac sat on the edge of my bed right next to me. His back was to the headboard as he held the screen between the small space between us. “Look.”

I did just that.

Maximized on the screen was an image of two men in Three Hundreds practice jerseys without pads. I didn’t have to look at the number on the bigger man’s shirt to know it was Aiden; I knew that body. I knew that body like the back of my hand. Plus, his helmet was off and hanging off the fingers of his right hand. I had to think for a moment about the guy standing a few feet away from him though. Number eighty-eight. Christian.

They were the only people on camera. With about five feet separating them, they were both facing the field where one could only assume was the rest of the team. There wasn’t any sound unfortunately.

On the screen, Christian happened to turn just as Aiden’s hands went to his hips, his body language deceptively casual if it wasn’t for the set to his shoulders.

It only took a few moments before Christian threw his arms out to the sides and took two steps toward the man I was married to. His stance became confrontational even before he pulled his helmet off and threw it, his feet taking him the two other steps between him and Aiden.

The big guy stood tall, his hands minutely flexing at his hips. Maybe no one else would notice the movement but I did. Christian’s face was visible on the screen, his cheeks turned red, his mouth getting wider as one could only assume he was yelling.

And then it happened.

Christian’s fist flew forward and Aiden’s head jerked back just slightly. The big guy took a step backward as his hands fell to his sides.

Christian hit him again.

The man known as The Wall of Wi

Aiden let them push him away as he backed up, his attention staying focused on the wide receiver on the ground as they became surrounded by other players and staff.

Zac tapped his thumb against the screen, turning his head to give me a wide-eyed look.

I could only stare at him with my mouth just slightly open. We both only managed to blink at each other.

And the two of us said the same thing at the same time: “Holy shit.”