I have two ridiculous St. John’s stories. You would never believe I count that trip as one of my favorite trips, ever.
And I keep debating how to tell this one. In its full version, it’s not for the squeamish, but I don’t wanna go into too many gory details. So here goes with the condensed version.
Game 2 was a Saturday night here. The team flew up Saturday night after the game, on a charter with the Maple Leafs, St. John’s in front, Tigers in the back, and the media in between (demilitarized zone, I guess). Brendan McCarthy of the Telegram and I checked with each other to see who hadn’t made the trip (I’m not looking at you, Ray Schultz), and I got on the bus with the Sound Tigers. I checked in at about 7 a.m. Sunday, in time to read the Telegram, where Brendan had quite accurately blasted Bridgeport for giving all three stars in Game 2 to Sound Tigers. Got a little sleep in, then went out wandering a little bit; Rich Bocchini (broadcaster at the time) and I got a cab to the mall, wandered around, ran (separately) into Branislav Mezei and Ken Sutton, picked up some stuff on the semi-cheap. I went back to the hotel and tried to send in an off-day story, only to learn that our corporate office had closed out our calling-card account, leaving me no alternative but to dial up to Maine. (Somehow, it didn’t cost $100.) At night, we watched the Islanders-Leafs big-club game at a local sports bar.
Game 3 was Monday night, by which time I had taken a walk down the block, found a computer store, and found a CD to get a free trial on a Canadian Internet service provider (tip: hotel addresses work!). Now, if you remember, Game 3 is still the longest game in Sound Tigers history, going deep into double overtime. Newfoundland is an hour and a half ahead of Connecticut, and I never in a billion years thought I’d be sweating deadline on a 6 p.m. Eastern start.
Fortunately, after Juraj Kolnik got it done, they kept the restaurant at the arena open for the Sound Tigers. I swung over after sending my story and ordered a hamburger. Rich had an idea for me. For the game, he was stationed in a booth down the press box from me, and he was in with the off-ice officials. One offered to take him and me to see Cape Spear, the easternmost point on the continent, which is something I’d been dying to do anyway. So I was stoked. It was late, and we were going to be up early, so I headed straight back to the hotel, figuring I’d go out and see the nightlife the next night. I got in at about 2 and set an 8 a.m. wakeup call.
(It’s turning a bit icky! Click on if you’re still with me.)
Except I woke up at 4 with weird chills. I pulled the blanket up.
Then I woke up at 6, the sickest I have ever felt in my life. And yes, you can probably imagine all that entails, having to choose which direction is more urgent.
(Look, I warned ya.)
Still sick at 8:45, I called Rich to tell him to offer my regrets. I tried to go back to sleep, but it didn’t work. (Meanwhile, I pulled a muscle in my chest as all that stuff, you know, happened, and that lingered for about a month.)
By 1, I was convinced I either had food poisoning or was dying. I was on my own in another country. So I did something I had never, ever had to do to that point.
I went to the hospital.
It was St. Clare’s, and Clare happens to be my Irish grandmother’s name, so at least it felt like someone was looking out for me. And, thankfully, stuff wasn’t happening anymore, so I didn’t have to rush out of the waiting room (or the cab, yeesh).
The doctor poked around, wanted to know how much I drank the night before (don’t I just wish, I told him — at least I’d have understood what was happening), sent in the nurse to take blood. After another hour they tell me there’s no sign of food poisoning, so it’s probably a virus; go back and get some rest.
While that made me feel better, I still felt horrible. So basically, the last three days I was on the Rock, I was either in my room or at the rink. Terrible. I’d wanted to get up there for years, and that has to go and happen.
So I’m hoping I get to go back. Even though it’ll be a whirlwind, got some unfinished business.
(Ridiculous St. John’s Story No. 2, still to come…)