[legendsport]

Toronto, Ontario: October 28, 1916:

Jack Barrell was standing at the window, looking down at the street. He was in room 318 of the Global Grand Hotel and from his perch thirty-some-odd feet above the pavement, he watched the steady stream of people going to and fro on Yonge Street. Horse-drawn streetcars stopped at the hotel, disgorging passengers and taking others on. There was a dental conference going on, and Jack was amazed at how many people were at the hotel.

"You know Vera, I never really thought about it, but there must be a heck of a lot of dentists in the world," he mused.

His grandmother, sitting behind him knitting, grunted in reply. Jack dropped the curtain and turned to her.

"You don't have to be so grumpy. This is supposed to be a happy occasion you know," he told her.

The clicking of her needles sped up a bit. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. He knew she didn't like be watched, so he stared and waited.

Vera Reid sighed and dropped her needles into her lap. "Why are you staring at me, you know I hate that," she groused.

Jack smiled and said, "Yes, that's why I'm doing it."

"Well, stop."

Jack shook his head. "Look, Vera, Connolly's offer is a good one. I'd be a fool not to sign it."

"You're a fool, that's certain, but it's because you're signing with that man."

"He's a successful businessman and he owns two hockey clubs."

"That man is a snake-oil salesman!"

Jack threw his hands up and turned away.

Vera pressed on: "Remember what Max said? Something fishy is going on."

Max Dewar, a fine defenseman who had been playing professionally for years, had given Jack an earful about Jack Connolly. Dewar had been suspended for a year by the NAHC (the pro league here in Eastern Canada) and had run a youth league while sitting out - and Jack had played for - and trusted - him.

"I love Max, but he holds a grudge. What happened back in 1908 or whatever has little bearing now," Jack said.

Vera harrumphed and said, "You're a kid, Jack. Your sense of time is entirely skewed by the fact that you haven't experienced much of life yet. When it comes to that Jack Connolly, what happened eight years ago is as pertinent to today as yesterday was."

Jack shook his head. "I've already agreed, and Pop always drummed into us that we Barrells always keep our promises."

Vera was about to reply when there was a knock at the door.

Jack said, "We'll put this on hold for the moment," as he walked to the door.

Opening the door he saw Max Dewar standing with a tall, permaturely gray-haired gentleman. Dewar grinned and slapped Jack on the shoulder. "Jock, my lad! You haven't put pen to paper yet, have you?"

Jack shook his head, saying, "Nope. The contract hasn't arrived yet. Connolly said he'd message it over this afternoon."

Dewar frowned a bit and then pasted a grin on his face and asked, "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

Jack stepped back and waved for the two men to enter.

Vera had risen from her chair and asked, "Mr. Dewar, who is your distinguished-looking friend?"

Dewar tipped his head at Vera and replied, "Good day, Mrs. Reid. Please forgive me; this is Mr. George Yeadon, of Vancouver."

Jack's eyebrows rose in surprise. "George Yeadon? Of the TCHA?" The Transcontinental Hockey Association was a rival pro league to the North American Hockey Confederation (the aforementioned NAHC) - but it was based on the Pacific coast.

Dewar laughed as Yeadon replied, "The one and only. I am here to try to forestall Mr. Connolly's efforts to sign you, young man."

"Thank the lord," said Vera. Jack, who had been smiling, turned and frowned at his grandmother.

Vera smiled at Jack and then turned to Yeadon and said, "My grandson has a misplaced stubborn streak and has convinced himself that since he agreed in principle, but not yet in writing, to play for Mr. Connolly, that he is unable to entertain other possibilities."

Yeadon smiled back at Vera and said, "I will try to disabuse him of that notion, madam."

Jack shook his head and grumbled, "Quit the high-fallutin' talk. Let's get down to brass tacks."

Yeadon nodded approvingly and said, "Just so, Mr. Barrell, just so."

Jack pointed out that yes, Vera was technically correct - he had agreed, in principle, to play for Connolly. And his inclination was to honor his word and sign when the papers arrived.

"I admire your principles, Mr. Barrell. If only more hockey players - or owners - had a similar sense of right and wrong, we'd all be better off."

Dewar chimed in: "That's for sure - and Connolly's one of the worst."

Yeadon said, "I won't take too much of your time. I am here with the approval of my brother Bill, to offer you your choice of a spot on either the Vancouver or Victoria clubs, at a salary identical to that offered by Mr. Connolly."

Jack looked at Vera, and she was grinning at him and nodding.

"That's a very fine offer, Mr. Yeadon," Jack said. "I will need a little time to think about it. Vancouver and Victoria are pretty far away."

Yeadon replied, "The country out there is beautiful and the weather finer than here in the East. I believe you'd find it quite nice."

"I'm sure I would. But as I said, I need to think about this. My family is in Georgia, and even Toronto is far from home. The west coast would be even more so."

Yeadon nodded.

"You will have an answer within the hour, I don't want to make anyone wait on me," Jack said.

Moments later, Dewar and Yeadon had left and Jack was certain Vera was about to give him an earful. Instead she surprised him by simply saying, "You know my feelings - and those of your parents. However, this is your decision so do as you see fit and they and I will support you."

With that she sat back down and resumed her knitting. Jack returned to the window and though he looked out, he wasn't seeing anything on Yonge Street, his mind being completely elsewhere.