Zimmerman’s Angels

I can feel my face turning red as I begin to actually put this story into writing! So I’m known to be painfully shy and socially awkward, at times. Always in my head, unless ,of course, I’ve had a few drinks. New to the dating scene, after 15 years, flirting was and is most definitely not one of my strong suits. I KNOW better! Just don’t do it, not ever.

Friends of mine, Marc and Kathleen, invited me to a Chicago Wolves game one random Friday evening. Always down for a good time and since I never have a problem being the third wheel, I said yes!

The Jack’s and Coke went down smoothly at dinner and so we went to the game feeling nice and giddy, pumped up to watch the game. Incidentally, I don’t know enough about hockey to be dangerous. All I really wanted to see was some guy get his tooth knocked out in a fight. Fights between the players was always the best part of a hockey game as far as I was concerned.

As Kathleen and I sat there chitchatting about our favorite places to get our nails done or who was sleeping with who on our favorite soap, we heard the announcers thunderous voice boom across the stadium. I only caught every other word as we were deep into our conversation about god knows what else.

Suddenly, the voice called out for a man named Johnny to come onto the ice. We watched a good looking guy with dark buzzed haircut trot down the stairs. He was sporting a Wolves jersey with the name Zimmerman across the back. He exuberated confidence as he stepped into the arena and waved at the screaming crowd. He accepted a hockey stick and effortlessly smacked a puck into the goal.

“I wonder who he is?” I said.

“Mabey he’s a retired Wolves player!” Kathleen responded excitedly. “He must be...” I agreed. Unfortunately for us, Marc, the only one with any real Hockey knowledge, had went on a beer run.

As the mysterious man came off the ice, he waved at a group of people cheering for him. They were sitting directly in front of us. They were all wearing matching purple Tee-shirts with his name, Zimmerman in bold letters across the backs.

Suddenly, he was cutting across our aisle to get to his groupies. Kathleen nudged me and urged me to try flirting with him. He asked me if the seat next to me was available and I said, “For you it is!” He sat down and smiled at me, then asked, “Are you with my group?” I gave him my most seductive smile, batted my eyelashes and coyly replied, “I could be...”

His forehead furrowed with confusion. He looked at his group and back at me.

“These are all cancer survivors.”

I felt the surge of hot blood rushing to my face as my mouth went dry. I wanted to melt into the floor and die on the spot. I could feel Kathleen stiffen and stare at me, but I refused to look at her.

“Oh, yeah, I know..” I said weakly. It felt like hours as he stared at me blankly. Finally, Johnny formed a big smile across his face. He pulled out his business card and gave it to me. I think he patted my shoulder before he walked away chuckling.

When the coast was clear, Kathleen burst into hysterical laughter that can still be heard echoing from the rafters at the arena today. A classic flirting disaster that I know I’ll never forget, and can only pray Johnny Zimmerman will!