_{Finding creative ways to gather and hold your attention — as well as keep you interested, always wondering what's around the next corner — is something I take pride in. There's more than one way to present a story to the public. I like to try all of them, when I can. When I can't, I create a new way.}

_{Almost from the beginning, here, this entity known as @NoNamesLeftToUse has been writing in character, when I don't feel like being me.}

_{Early on, I noticed this platform did not have a superhero to call its own. Some people thought The Nedster and his trusty sidekick, Hair, were kind of cool. @lordvader was busy wreaking havoc on the masses, delivering one hit after another. Some folks were talking about Spiderman and Batman. But nobody had heard of:}

This Man

^{For this week's edition of #showcase-sunday, I'll be showing off some of my favorite This Man Moments from the past. Short stories all based on my real life and presented by This Man, along with some humor thrown in the mix.}

^{So grab a snack and kick back; enjoy the show.}

Act 1: The Hockey Days

This Man Always Has a Story

This time, This Man will dig deep. Anyone who builds their own pond hockey rink will understand, but today, This Man takes the game indoors.

Step back in time with This Man. It is now the year 1995. Winter.

This Man was a rising star on the hockey scene. Mostly because This Man kept getting his bell rung and it always felt like This Man was floating.

Every time This Man finished a shift, This Man would take his seat on the bench fully winded and begin experiencing what came to be known as the fuzzies. Little patterns of unworldly beams of light and little sparks made up of strange bubble-looking things were a regular occurrence within the realms of This Man's vision.

Who needs LSD, when you can play hockey?

^{Bell Ringer}

Yes

The sport gave This Man a rush.

This Man's role wasn't that of a sniper or a playmaker, no, This Man was a grinder. This Man's hero at the time, The Coach, gave This Man that particular role and placed This Man on the third forward line as a right-winger. No, This Man did not just make a political statement.

If you're unfamiliar with the sport of hockey, just know, part of the grinder's job is to get out there, hit people, and be a menace.

This Man was to wear down the other team's top performers or at least get under their skin so they're looking for This Man, and not the puck. That meant This Man would hit the ice, skate around, body check someone as hard as possible, and bounce off the much larger players when attempting to do this. Or, take a retaliatory hit for something This Man did last time This Man was out on the ice. That, in turn, could draw a penalty and put our team on the power play. Then, the now well-rested skilled players would hit the ice and attempt to score.

Also, if the puck was in the opposing team's zone, The Coach told This Man to go, "st-st-st-st-st-stand in front of the nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh net!"

Standing in the right place at the right time would screen the goalie, making it nearly impossible for him to see the pucks flying his way from the blue line.

The opposing team's defenders would try to aggressively force This Man out of that area in front of the net, while This Man would defend the position and say nasty things about their moms.

This also meant that sometimes This Man would take a puck traveling 80mph directly to the shin pads and sometimes, the cup. No, not the Stanley Cup.

The Nut Cup

Did This Man mention his hero at the time, The Coach, had a stutter?

That stutter caught This Man off guard the first time This Man met The Coach, but eventually, This Man learned to embrace the speech impediment as any good person would. The words one chooses or how they use them should never be a factor used to judge another person's character. Doing that just seems lazy.

This Man! You gotta shoot the damn p-p-p-p-p-p-p-puck!

Admittedly, as young teenagers, many of us on the team did find it humorous at times. Even The Coach would laugh at himself on certain occasions.

When you become close to people, being honest about such things promotes camaraderie. The Coach would bug us about our hockey hair, it was only fair. You had to look The Coach in the eye though. The eyes would tell us whether or not he was in the mood for such things. He never cared much about our moods if he felt like bugging us though, unless, of course, if he felt like you needed your spirits lifted.

The Coach

Always vocal, no matter the situation. He would argue with the refs or put us in our place with ease. He could comfort the parents who would sometimes get out of line in the stands. The man did everything. A great ambassador to the sport of hockey.

There was a time though, when The Coach did lose his composure. The incident nearly started a bench brawl.

It's customary for a coach of any sport to yell. The Coach must be heard, the yelling doesn't default to anger, he's simply doing his job.

In Canada the term, "Hey ref," is used quite often. It comes from both the stands where the people cheerfully watch and the benches where the players sit. In hockey, the ref can sometimes play the role of a heel wrestler, the bad guy.

During a tournament in near northern Manitoba, we found ourselves in a bit of a situation.

The ref for that game was either the biggest asshole in the history of pricks, or, just a moron who took a bribe from one of the opposing team member's fathers.

Needless to say, there were many bad penalties called. Players would argue or even scowl which in turn was somehow enough for the ref to eject them from the game. That was never enough to get ejected before that game.

"Unsportsmanlike Conduct"

Each time a player was ejected, our level of furious would go up a notch. It's nearly impossible to be competitive in hockey if only half the team is available to play.

Finally, The Coach had seen enough and wanted a word with this ref. The Coach called him over to the bench.

Hey ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh ref!

The puck was about to be dropped but instead the ref blew his whistle, pointed at The Coach, then pointed at the door. This meant the ref was actually trying to eject The Coach from the game.

We were all shocked. It's normal for a coach to call the ref over to share a word or two. The Coach would not budge and This Man didn't blame him because there was absolutely no reason for this madness.

The ref stood there nearly fifty feet away, eyeballing The Coach, waiting for him to leave. The Coach wanted an explanation at least. Finally, the ref skated over with threats to penalize the team for delay of game as well if the Coach did not vacate his position as ordered.

The Coach demanded to know why he was being ejected from the game. The ref said, "If you want my attention, simply ask. There's no need to bark at me like a dog. Please, leave."

In unison, the remaining members of This Man's team including This Man all stood up and yelled:

He stutters, you fucking asshole!

None of us planned it that way. It came from pure, raw, emotion. The entire building heard which in turn made the entire place completely silent.

The ref skated away, blew his whistle and pointed at the face-off circle. Game on. His face remained red for the rest of the period.

We ended up winning that game. Final score, 3-1.

Act 2: The Man in the Blue Jacket

The Man in the Blue Jacket

Monday to Friday, and sometimes Saturday, This Man would leave the comforts of home behind and step out into the chaos that is The Big City.

This Man had his very own chauffeur service that ran on a strict schedule of being late only half of the time. That meant This Man would sometimes spend many hours standing near a pole with a tiny picture of a bus on top.

Many people would come and go. Some would stay.

There Was a Man in a Blue Jacket

Not just a regular Man in a Blue Jacket, no. That Man in the Blue Jacket was slightly irregular. He would talk to himself, had a strange walk, oddly shaped head and a weird mustache. He was there waiting every time This Man had to be there, never skipped a day.

"That's right," yelled The Man in the Blue Jacket, quite often, for no apparent reason, to nobody.

"That's Right!"

The first few times, This Man was caught off guard. Eventually though, This Man got used to it. The Man in the Blue Jacket was not a threat, he was just crazy, and that's fine.

Often, This Man would be silently entertained at the reactions of a few passersby who were not accustomed to The Man in the Blue Jacket's odd behavior. Some would jump out of their shoes and a few times This Man nearly spit out the cigarette while being overcome with feelings of joy.

One Day

It was just This Man and The Man in the Blue Jacket, standing there, alone together, at last.

After many weeks and spending many moments standing near The Man in the Blue Jacket but never saying anything to him, This Man decided to take the plunge.

"Hello, how are you today," asked This Man. The Man in the Blue Jacket, not skipping a beat, looked This Man square in eye and responded with:

Fuck the Yankees!

The Man in the Blue Jacket then went on for a good twenty minutes yelling about Major League Baseball. He would not give This Man a chance to respond to anything. A one way conversation leading straight to hell.

The entire time, The Man in the Blue Jacket did not take his eyes off of This Man. Passersby and random gawkers looked at This Man as if This Man said something wrong and was now getting schooled by someone who actually knows their baseball.

That turned out to be the longest twenty minutes of This Man's life, but it did not end there.

The #3 Finally Shows Up

We boarded the magic road rocket together, but This Man decided the safest place would be the back of the bus. The Man in the Blue Jacket took his usual seat near the center door where nobody else would ever sit with him. From there, half a bus away, The Man in the Blue Jacket continued to yell at This Man about everything he knew about baseball. People were telling him to calm down but he did not care. Obviously, he'd been bottling this up for a very long time.

It was a long ride. This Man knew The Man in the Blue Jacket would be getting off at the mall downtown. That's where he always goes.

Finally

The Man in the Blue Jacket removes himself and his sportscast from the bus to do his usual walk across the busy downtown street. This time, he's walking backwards, still yelling about baseball, still looking at This Man dead in the eye.

That was the moment This Man finally cracked a smile. It was safe. This Man survived the baseball zombie from hell attack unscathed.

After that little fiasco, This Man decided it was probably time to change things up, add a little spice to life, and take a different bus route. We did end up crossing paths a few times though, but This Man never made the same mistake again.

So

If you're ever out there roaming the streets of Edmonton, be careful. There's one crazy Blue Jay's fan somewhere around and he's ready to rip your face off. Approach with caution, do not make any sudden movements and if you value your life, do not say hello.

Act 3: The Drunk Tank

This Man

^{Had One Too Many}

There once was a time in This Man's life when This Man drank like a fish. It was a time known as This Man's Twenties. This Man would now like to tell a quick story about those years, but for some strange reason, This Man is having trouble remembering a few things.

This Man does seem to recall one late evening though, like it was yesterday, though it was more like a decade ago.

Damn, This Man is Getting Old

Anyway. This Man was doing the right thing. After seven or eight hours of drinking steady at bar after bar, This Man decided it was probably a good time to go home.

Like any wise drunk, This Man decided to walk instead of drive. Better to be safe than sorry, thought This Man, and off This Man went.

This Man was stumbling and could not see properly. This Man had to use buildings, people and sign posts to help maintain an equilibrium. Luckily, This Man found a group of people to blend in with. This Man knew one of them. The rest looked at This Man like, "Who the fuck is this guy?"

They kept telling This Man, "Dude, you're going to get us busted, chill out," but This Man was far too drunk to think that was sound advice, and did not listen, as we were walking down the one of the busier streets in town.

A lot of traffic, a lot of people, a lot of stuff going on.

This Man saw a construction pylon on the street and decided to pick it up to use as a megaphone in order to tell This Man's new friends cool things, incredibly loudly.

Nobody was paying attention to This Man and they started to walk faster. This Man couldn't stumble that fast. This Man decided the best thing This Man could do at that point would be to place the pylon in the middle of the only eastbound traffic lane.

This Man should have just put it back where This Man found it.

The first car to come along was a damn cop car. They slammed the brakes as if This Man put a baby in the middle of the road. It seemed to be a bit too dramatic, but whatever, they are trained to drive defensively.

This Man still thinks they saw This Man place the pylon there and felt like squealing their tires just to make a cool entrance into This Man's life.

The boys hopped out of their car and This Man knew he was fucked.

There was no way out of it, so This Man thought it would be wise to act way more drunk than This Man already was. They asked for This Man's name, This Man mumbled something, so they said, "This one's drunk," then threw This Man in the car, aggressively.

Instead of acting like a moron and yelling at the cops, This Man kept his mouth shut the entire time. They then took This Man for a little drive.

Free Hotel. Awesome.

The entire way there, This Man was thinking, "A bed is a bed."

They took This Man inside, asked This Man to fill out some paperwork, This Man acted too drunk for that, so they threw This Man in the drunk tank to sober up.

That was the first and last time This Man had ever been locked up. This Man was happy This Man had the entire room to himself. There wasn't a bed though, and they took most of This Man's clothes away. It was cold in there.

This Man laid on the concrete, removed the socks and placed them behind This Man's head. It was a good pillow for about two minutes. Damn guard came in and took This Man's socks away and warned This Man about, "playing games," whatever that meant.

This Man decided to go to sleep...

Roughly An Hour Later

This Man was awoken by a ruckus. All This Man could hear was yelling and someone throwing a mental fit. This Man was having a good sleep and did not want to wake up. The voices sounded like they were coming from another cell. This Man started yelling, "Shut the hell up! This Man is trying to sleep!"

This Man made one big mistake though. This Man used the same accent the other guy used.

Don't be angry with This Man. Robin Williams made a living doing the very same thing.

All of a sudden, This Man felt a kick to the leg. That was enough to make This Man want to open his eyes.

Here is a lesson for everyone. If you're ever in jail and feel like mocking someone, make sure to open your eyes first.
Check to see if they are in the same room as you.

This Man Focused

There was another guy, standing at This Man's feet, glaring at This Man, asking This Man if he wanted to go.

From down on the concrete, the other dude looked massive and This Man thought he messed up big time.

This Man decided the best thing to do was to stand up as quickly as possible before this other guy lays the boots into This Man.

That was when This Man discovered he was a good foot taller than the other guy. This Man no longer felt threatened. Keep in mind, This Man was still drunk. This Man started laughing at the little guy. That angered Little One. This Man didn't care. Little One took at swing at This Man. This Man had been punched before. That, was no punch, but it did light a little fire within This Man.

Suddenly

The guard stepped into the cell.

"Do you want the hose!"

Both Little One and This Man decided to calm down at that point. Neither of us wanted the hose. We each took a corner, and stayed there.

Little One turned out to be a nice guy, even though This Man wasn't too interested in hearing about Little One's hard drug stories.

Whatever though, This Man is in jail too, so This Man was in no position to judge.

Morning Came

It was probably the longest night of This Man's life but This Man did have a good sleep.

The guards eventually came to let This Man out. They informed This Man how they would not lay any charges if This Man just gave them This Man's name. So This Man told them This Man's name, signed a document with a signature that looked nothing like This Man's usual signature, and off This Man went.

This Man was free at last, walking again. This time, with a terrible hang over, a craving for bacon and eggs, and a newfound respect for pylons.

It was a beautiful morning.^{And This Man had no idea where he was.}

Credits:All art and images seen here were produced digitally, by me. ^{All content within this blog is 100% organic ACTUAL CONTENT and contains no paid vote additives!}
_{"This Man exists for your entertainment. I hope you've enjoyed this today!""Click the #Showcase-Sunday tag to find and support more great authors every Sunday!"}^{What is Showcase Sunday?}

^{© 2019 @NoNamesLeftToUse.  All rights reserved.}