Disclaimer: Dude, as if I owned anything.
Summary: Last show. I'm guessing on how they ended the final Bill Guerin show.
Pairing: Guerin/Arnott, Guerin/Corson, implied Guerin/Weight
AN: Guerin has this thing on the Ticket called the Bill Guerin show. They talk about hockey and play this game called "Gay/Not Gay."
News to know--
From the DMN:
Snowed out: Stars' season ends with a thud in 5-1 loss to Avalanche 12:07 PM CDT on Sunday, April 18, 2004
"We went through a lot to get where we are. You guys have no idea," Bill Guerin said. "We fought a lot of inner battles. To put all our differences aside and become a close team like we are now and to have it end like this stinks. Guys did a lot of sacrificing along the way, and this is the way it ends. It's tough."
On the Ticket on Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Guerin: Sometimes you go through the course of the year there are just different things. Chemistry problems. On ice problems. Things like that. Stuff that you want to keep in house. I think we are going to do that. I'm not going to get into details. We overcame a lot of stuff this year that people won't know about.
This pov is courtesy of a FWST quote from Billy:
"I believe I worked hard. I don't think I was a detriment to the team. That doesn't matter, Bill Guerin's got to produce and play better. There's nobody more disappointed in me than myself. It came at a bad time."
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual.
He’s married with four children. He dotes on his wife, and even after four kids, they still have sex twice a week. Even if he’s on the road. He’ll tell you that’s what cell phones were invented for.
He visits Bob and Dan once a week in the studio; he has his own show and talks about his game, key lime pies, football, poodles, and how very ungay he is. It’s just a show, just a game, a little humor, light-hearted fun. Some days he talks about loving Keith Tkachuk, some days he kids around with Chris Chelios, but it should probably be noted that this is all done under the careful, controlled guise that it’s a joke, and it’s a joke that only he tells. He becomes quiet when Bob and Dan tease him about other guys wearing his jersey; he doesn’t laugh when Dan plays a series of songs to insinuate that the team’s post-game celebrations in the locker room is a little more than gay.
In fact, he refuses to elaborate at all on the team’s celebrations. They’re “in house” things.
A lot of things are “in house” things for Bill Guerin. These are the things he believes only the team should be privy to. These are the things he believes that only the other guys wearing the same colored sweaters can truly understand. These are the things he will never talk about to an outsider. Not even his wife.
He is fiercely protective of these things. “In house” quarrels at the beginning of the year were kept quiet, and eventually the team worked through them and moved on. Reporters and newspapers suspected as much, but he’d never agree, he’d never give them any extra fodder to chew on. It was “in house.”
Not all “in house” things are bad. There’s a general consensus that players should keep to cliches, and never criticize management. Those that do are reprimanded, or go to “media school.” Squabbles and quarrels, of course, are kept under wraps. Public fights never fail to drive wedges between teammates, and they can never be fully repaired. Most players try to avoid talking about these kinds of things. But then there are the “in house” things like team dinners, vacations, and paint ball trips. Fans and beat writers are always aware of these things, but the details are always a little hazy. Bill Guerin likes that; he is not an overly-secretive man, but his personal life is just that. He is a private man, and he’d prefer to keep the details of his life out of the lime light.
He plays hockey, but was a fan first, so he understands their nature. He knows they want to know about his life. He knows this, but he clings to his hazy details, the things outsiders don’t know because they are “in house” things. His play is constantly scrutinized and criticized, so he takes comfort in the fact that there are things that cannot be judged, or looked down upon, or teased, and that these are things that exist outside the confines of his mind. He would probably go crazy if his only reprieve was his own mind, because he is most likely his harshest critic.
So he finds peace inside his “house.” He is glad that there are things the public doesn’t know. Even if they are small, trivial things like Dixie cups and Gatorade.
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual, and he whispers this to himself as he kisses Jason Arnott with all his might. He leans in, and checks him against the hotel walls, but softly, and with none of the force he used earlier against the Devils.
He is surprised by the pace. Jason moves slowly, and is in no hurry to tug on his shirt. It is slightly awkward, because he is used to being taller. He is used to being able to control the pace by default, by being the larger person. Jason doesn’t resist his advances and his pressing, but he does slow things down. When Bill reaches for Jason’s belt, Jason touches his hand; he doesn’t pull Bill’s hand away, but rather just rests his hand on Bill’s. It’s enough to distract Bill, to make him pull away from a kiss and stare at Jason. Breathing heavy, Jason smiles, and a little something uncurls itself from inside Bill’s stomach.
Bill feels like he could make out with him for hours. They nearly do.
Later, they are still pressed against one another, lying on the hotel bed.
“I never thought I’d be doing this again,” Jason whispers against his skin.
Bill Guerin never thought Jason Arnott would become an “in house” thing.
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual.
This is one of the things they fight about most often.
“It’s just a little bit insulting when you turn your nose up in disgust.”
“Well, I think it’s disgusting what they’re doing. Fucking fairies.”
“We do that! I’m a fucking fairy. You’re a fucking fairy.”
“Please. It’s one thing to do what we do in the privacy of our own homes, and another to walk around wearing a pink shirt and acting like a woman.” He holds his hand out, wrist dangling limply. “It’s so gay.”
He tosses Jason a beer, and Jason stares at him.
“I’m gay,” he says plainly.
Bill rolls his eyes for the millionth time, and it’s beginning to hurt. “Jesus, you know that’s not what I meant. You’re gay but you’re not gay, Jason. You’re not like them. We’re not like them. It’s not all that we are. It’s just something that… we do. Don’t start getting all p.c. around me.”
He flips the channel and they watch the game. Jason apologizes later by giving him a blow job on the couch.
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual.
He’s a professional athlete, he’s strong, and he doesn’t speak with a lisp. He doesn’t own a poodle.
It’s all in jest, the things he points out. Little humorous jabs. He says things about Jason all the time on the radio; it doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t hate anyone. It’s just funny.
He thinks about that, later, when Shayne’s giving him head. Shayne has long hair, and something for him to grab onto. He’s quiet, and when he’s done, he gets up to leave, and Bill appreciates that. Things have been difficult with Jason as of late. Jason is more on edge, more likely to snap at him. Bill’s jokes annoy Jason, and Jason’s constant calls to Anaheim annoy Bill, and Bill thinks about the sex and how it hasn’t been that great lately. He thinks that maybe if it was then maybe that could get him through this tough spot, but it hasn’t, so their conversations, their arguments just rub him all the more. It’s just funny how things have changed over the season.
When Shayne opens the door to leave, Jason is on the other side with Chinese take-out. And the look on Jason’s face, the betrayal and… it’s just funny.
He swallows when both men leave, and he’s left staring at the open door, and the funny dissipates. He’s left with something that makes him cold, and his skin crawls, and for a moment he feels disgusting.
He takes a shower. His skin still feels gritty with residue and guilt afterwards, and its worse the next day at practice. The fallout begins, and guys take sides. It’s reminiscent of a really bad tv show.
He is grateful when Jason strains his groin, and he no longer has to look at him on the ice. They still played well, even when no longer an “in house” thing, but things were still forced. It gave Bill a headache.
The pain was somewhere between his eyes, or maybe his heart, and it wasn’t really surprising when things began to blur and spin, and the games and days zipped by--a dilated valve here, and then a suspension, a flat game one, and then the voices came, loud and harsh in the locker room. Accusations and arguments, and how could they play as a team when they were splintered already?
Bill looks back on it now, thinking as he drives to the radio station. It’s not his fault management dealt players away. It’s not his fault his name isn’t Brett Hull. It’s not his fault he couldn’t be the person everyone wanted him to be.
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual.
This is probably why he does not understand Jason Arnott. It’s not for lack of trying, but people are different, and sometimes it’s easier just to admit defeat rather than beat a dead horse.
He and Jason are just too different; they are two different people.
Jason isn’t like most people that Bill associates with being gay, but nevertheless, he is. And Bill isn’t. He was just exploring. They were just friends that slipped, that were confused. But Bill is no longer confused.
The season is over, and the fingers have begun to point and accuse, and it is a familiar routine that makes Bill’s head ache. He visits Bob and Dan one last time, and when they ask about the team’s inner battles, and sacrifices--all things he foolishly spoke of after Game 5--he hesitates. There is a pause, and it sounds like he wants to say everything, but in the end returns to his usual spiel of “in house” commentary. It is safer, and despite the emotion in his voice, he knows it’s better not to talk. That “in house” things are still sacred, and need to be protected.
Some days he wishes they didn’t need to be protected. Some days he wishes he could talk to somebody about “in house” things. These days are mostly after the season is over, especially after the team packs up and cleans out the locker room. Because these are the days Bill realizes that he no longer has a house, or any new in-house things to protect, and no house-mates to talk to. These are the days Bill spends mostly thinking about all the “in house” things he has kept secret. They are not all burdens. In fact, most “in house” things make him smile, and laugh when he thinks about them.
But then, there are other things that weigh more heavily. Bill tries not to think about these things. They are the “in house” things that he feels he could have prevented, had he not been so foolish, so bull-headed, so quick to think that maybe this was something more. To think that this could be… not quite love, but something similar. Something akin to the “in house” things he cherished in Edmonton.
Bill Guerin is not a homosexual.
Perhaps this statement makes you scoff. Perhaps you are quick to roll your eyes, or think that Bill Guerin is lying to himself. Perhaps you think he’s homophobic.
You’d be mostly wrong.
It is not a matter of homophobia; it is a matter of knowing who he is.
It’s a matter of knowing who I am. My name is Bill Guerin, and I am not a homosexual.
I am Bill Guerin. My sexuality doesn’t define me; it is not all that I am. It is a part of me, much like all my “in house” secrets, and my job, and my family. There are things, there are people, that have added to me, changed me, and they are the “in house” things that the public does not know about. They are not amazing, extraordinary things. They are simple things that are mine, and that I am glad I can remember, appreciate, and love on my own, away from the public eye that has consumed a part of my life. Their peering, inquisitive eyes can be a bit much, and perhaps for all my bravado, I am scared. I’m scared I’ll lose these things that I care about. I love, or loved them all at one point in my life, and they are a part of me. Like my leg last year, I did not just fear losing hockey: it was the fear I’d never be able to walk around the zoo with my children, climb the ladder to their tree house, be the father, the player, the man I’d always envisioned myself to be.
They are the things that have made me, and it is more than exposing these “in house” secrets, it is exposing me, and leaving me out there in a way I am not quite yet prepared to deal with.
Bill Guerin: gay or not gay?
But this is not a game on a radio show; this is my life. That portion of the show comes at the end anyway, and I’m no where near the end, so I suppose it’s okay that things aren’t as black and white as they could be. Sometimes I say the right things, sometimes I say the wrong things, sometimes my mouth is full of cliches, sometimes Jason’s in the studio, sometimes I’m on my own.
Right now there’s just static in my head, and it’s a welcomed white noise.
“Thanks Bob and Dan.”
“Thanks for coming on out today, Bill, and for the entire year. Folks, Bill Guerin. The very last Bill Guerin Show.”