“We were pleasantly surprised when you reached out to us, can I give you a tour of the tower?” Kyle Dubas is legitimately star struck as he welcomes Connor McDavid to Toronto Maple Leaf Tower.

Connor, the superstar first over-all pick of the Edmonton Oilers, offers Kyle a friendly handshake and an awkward smile. “Sure.” He says. “I always wanted to see inside this place.”

“Well it is my pleasure to finally invite you in.” Kyle puts his arm around Connor’s shoulders gently as they enter into the tower. “Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if we had won that draft lottery.” He pauses, then sighs loudly. “But everything happens the only way it can, right?”

“I try not to think about it.” The teen phoneme replies.

“How is your recovery going? Healing well?”

“It’s okay I guess.” Connor has a clavicular fracture that is mending slower than he would like.

As they take an up-escalator ride Kyle leans in to Connor and speaks softly.

“So how come you’re not with your team? The guys aren’t giving you a hard time about being hurt are they?”

“No it’s nothing like that. I like my team, I just can’t go back to Edmonton yet.”

“Why?” Kyle asks.

“It’s Messier.” Connor says.

“Mark?” Of all the answers Kyle might have expected, that was not one of them.

“I know he’s an Oiler legend and a Hall-of-Famer, but the guy is just always around. Before and after games, even when I’m training. I had to start going to the gym at night to avoid him. Now he calls me whenever he feels like it, and if I don’t answer he never stops. I just had to get away.” Connor is starting to twitch as he relives the trauma.

“It’s okay Connor, he can’t get you here.” They don’t speak for the rest of the escalator ride. Kyle discreetly sends a text to the O-dog Jeff O’Neill cancelling the retired stars meet and greet with Connor. O-dog sends back a thumbs down emoji followed by a monkey covering its mouth and a swirl of chocolate ice cream with big eyes. The escalator finally deposits them on the fourth floor and Kyle leads Connor to the west wing.

“Welcome to the Toronto Maple Leaf rainforest preserve.” Kyle opens the door and a wave of humid heat washes over the pair. Sweat immediately starts to drip into tickly places. The sound of hundreds of tropical birds shakes the air and the space is filled with every vibrant shade of green the mother Earth can produce. Trees and vines and flowers of indescribable beauty reach out as far as the eye can see, which is about three meters in the dense indoor forest.

A gravel path meanders away into the undergrowth. On either side of the path red lights shine brightly, allowing no confusion as to where the trail ends.

“Stay on the path.” Kyle says. “There are snakes and jaguars and worse out in the jungle, but the animals don’t like the light.”

“Snakes?” Connor does not follow Kyle along the path. “I hate snakes.”

“Okay.” Kyle says turning around. “We will skip the Toronto Maple Leaf reptile petting zoo then. No prob. Come on.”

Kyle leads Connor to an elevator. Relieved, the young man follows. Kyle and Connor enjoy the Toronto Maple Leaf mini-putt course, the Toronto Maple Leaf animatronic dinosaur exhibit, and the Toronto Maple Leaf hard candy factory without incident.

“This place is amazing.” Connor says between lollipop licks. “How can you fit everything in one building?”

“Well, we are always growing.” Kyle answers. “It seems like some part of the tower is being renovated all the time, and so it all comes down to the foundations. A solid foundation is easier to build on top of.”

Connor understands that this response is not an answer but does not press the issue. Suddenly they are interrupted by the noise of an approaching argument.

“God damn it Mike, you will not!”

“You better believe I will Lou.”

Lou Lamoriello and Mike Babcock do not notice Kyle and Connor right away, so heated is their confrontation.

“If I call Nylander up you are not gonna sit him, you are going to put him into the line up” A dangerous tone has crept into Lou’s voice. Lesser men would run from the threat it promised.

“Remember the last time you forced a player onto my roster?” Mike is not at all intimidated.

“Corrado is a good player, you’re just sitting him to be a prick. I’m gonna trade James Reimer if you don’t play Frankie soon.”

“I pick the players that make it into the lineup Lou, that’s all there is to it.”

“Nylander is better than any guy you’re putting on the ice right now.”

“Great, let him win the AHL scoring title, let the Marlie’s take a run at the AHL championship, and let the kid grow into a man with his teammates. I am not going to take a guy on a road trip that can’t even go out for beers with the team after a game. That’s that.”

“I hate your stubborn wrinkly balls. Why don’t you go skull fuck a snapping turtle.”

“Guys!” Kyle shouts. “Look who surprised us with a visit.”

The two men are startled by the interuption. They greet Connor and apologize for spoiling his tour.

“It’s okay.” Connor says. “I’m starting to feel a little hungry anyway, can we get some food?”

“No problem Connor, I think it’s hotdog day in the cafeteria.” Kyle turns to Lou and Mike. “You are not calling up Nylander, and when he does come up you are not going to bench him. And no trading goalies. Not yet.” Not waiting for an answer, Kyle leads Connor away from the bickering pair.

“You ever imagine what it would be like to have him on the team?” Lou asks, staring at the receding figure of the most promising young hockey player of his generation.

“All the time.” Mike answers.

Without any sort of plan or agreement the two watch in silence until Connor is gone, then they speak in unison as if the words were a spell, and maybe words do hold the power to create.

“Dear God and Lord Stanley, thank you for bringing us together here in Toronto and please help Steven Stamkos find his way home.”

Just before Kyle and Connor reach the cafeteria they run into Morgan Rielly. The Leaf has a dvd tucked under his arm and is licking ketchup off his hands. He nods to Connor, then looks over to Kyle and shrugs.

“How are the hot dogs today?” Kyle asks.

“Nice and long and thin.” Morgan answers.

“I love wieners.” Connor says.

“Be smart about it.” Morgan warns.

“I won’t eat too many. Hey what movie have you got there?” Connor asks.

“Super Troopers.” Morgan answers.

“I love Super Troopers. Can I come watch it after my wieners?” Connor looks over to Kyle who nods.

“No problem Connor. You don’t mind do you Mo?”

“No.” Morgan answer.

“You’re going to the video room?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah.” Morgan has cleaned one hand and as he turns to leave he goes to work on the other.

“Let’s go get some beef in you Connor.” Kyle says, as he guides the teenager into the cafeteria and cuts to the front of the line.

High above, Brendan Shanahan sits in his private sanctuary drinking a cappuccino. The hook from Wu-Tang Clans “C.R.E.A.M” starts to blare from his coat pocket and Brendan pulls out his cellphone. He doesn’t know the number but recognizes the Edmonton area code.

“Hello.” Brendan says.

“Hi Brendan, It’s Mess. The Moose. You know, Mark Messier, I was in the NHL.”

“Hi Mark.” Brendan is surprised to say the least. “What’s up?”

“I’m just calling to see if you know where Connor is. Connor McDavid. He’s my friend. He likes it when I call him Connie, but I don’t call him that all the time. Have you seen Connie? Connor, I mean?”

“Sorry Mark, I haven’t seen him.” Something about the way Mark is talking makes Brendan wary of revealing the young mans visit to the tower. “Isn’t he with the Oilers?”

“No, I mean I don’t think so. I follow the team everywhere. Well, I follow Connie everywhere. But I lost him in Toronto. We were at the supermarket together and someone offered me a Lays potato chip. I had to eat it, and then I had to eat more, and then I looked up and Connie was gone. Connie!” Mark wails into the phone. “Connie!”

“Sorry Mark I can’t help you.” Brendan says and hangs up quickly. “Poor kid.”