Page 21 of Geeky Pucking Orc

First was the post-game interview in Chicago.

I’d been annoyed about the orcs pushing past the press without so much as a word. I’d need to speak to them when they returned and give them some quick phrases they could say when asked for comments about the game. I’d been wondering who should be the team spokesperson for post-game interviews, and had decided on Ozar as the de facto captain when Bwat stopped to answer the reporters’ questions.

That smile. Oh my God, that smile. Panties were no doubt flying off all around the country at that smile.

“What happened on the ice this evening, Bwat?” Jerome Watson from Channel 7 news asked.

“We lost. That is what happened.”

I groaned. The only saving grace was that Bwat hadn’t said it in a sarcastic or snarky way. Instead he seemed sheepishly embarrassed at the fact that the team had lost. Again. Like they always did.

Then he went on to detail how the orcs fell repeatedly, with details of the slapstick comedy highlights throughout the game. I put my head in my hands, wondering if I should switch tactics and promote this whole thing as a circus sideshow like the owner wanted, instead of framing the team as scrappy underdogs fighting their way from the bottom of the NHL listings.

I’d seen Bwat’s arm-bar collision with one of the Blackhawk’s players, but caught my breath when Babs Petroski from FOX 32 mentioned that Dylan Emmet possibly had a concussion from the impact.

But Bwat, being Bwat, immediately expressed concern and his hope that Dylan Emmet was not seriously injured. The guy was so damned sweet. In the world of hockey, injury was a given. Fights. Concussions. Bruises. Knocked-out teeth. There had even been the occasional death. It was a sport where violent contact happened regularly. And here was Bwat, his expression showing clear distress that he might have caused another pain and suffering. It was one more thing that made him not fit in this sport.

Or this world.

I immediately banished the cynical thought about the unfairness and cruelty that so often happened in life. It was something I was still working on, stemming from childhood trauma.

All in all, the interview wasn’t horrible. Bwat had come across as sweet and engaging, and his looks were definitely an advantage on-screen. Hockey fans would be either bored or uninterested. Non-hockey fans would probably find him adorable. Given the audience of FOX 32 and ABC 7, I was counting this as a win.

With my spidey-senses tingling, I decided it would be a good idea to search all the major social media platforms for content related to the game as well as anything the players might have posted. Sorting through the fan-posts took hours, but I dutifully liked and commented on each from the team account. Then I posted from my fan, sock-puppet accounts.

Then I found Bwat. Once again. Like a bad penny that kept showing up just when things were looking good.

The orc had created an Instagram account and posted an inane commentary about the lack of shoe availability in orc-sizes with a photo of his scuffed and clearly worse-for-the-wear sneakers. It was a strange choice for an opening post, but strange seemed to be this orc’s middle name. I sighed, ignored the post, and staggered home to my bed to grab a few hours’ sleep before doing it all over again.

By the time I blearily checked the social media accounts the next evening, I was exhausted. Probably not as exhausted as the team who’d endured a long bus ride and were playing a game in a few hours, but still exhausted. Hitting up the team account on Instagram, I noticed Bwat had replied to a few of the comments. Thankfully nothing set off my alarms, but I checked the sock-puppet accounts, then my own and saw that he’d followed my professional account as well as my personal one.

Good Lord. If this guy spent as much time learning hockey as he did social media, he’d be unstoppable.

I knew an intervention was needed when I saw his posts and his replies to the comments. The guy was two seconds away from crypto-transferring his entire checking account balance to some scammer. I messaged him with critiques about his posts, growing increasingly blunt and animated with each reply.

Then I saw a post that tagged both Bwat’s account and the team’s one. It was Dylan Emmet, the Blackhawk’s player who’d been concussed by a collision with Bwat’s arm at last night’s game. He had a short video of himself at his home showing off a very eclectic flower and hot sauce bottle arrangement.

I’ve been nearly knocked unconscious by lots of hockey players, but none of them have stopped mid-game to help me to my feet and apologize. And none of them have sent this interesting get-well gift to my house. The Tusks might have a lot to learn about playing hockey, but they’re good guys. Just don’t let one hit you in the head with his arm.

Holy shit. Bwat had somehow found the guy’s home address and sent him an apology gift along with a get-well card.

Maybe I needed to change my focus here. My choices had been circus side-show, or scrappy up-and-coming hockey team. But this…this was different. Bwat was different. Maybe the nuance that would make this whole team go viral wasn’t about hockey, but about them as individuals. I know I’d spun that pitch to the owner, but I’d been thinking of the players’ community activities, not so much about their kind and generous personalities.

Bwat fit that definition, but did the others? Ozar, maybe according to what I’d seen and what Jordan said, but the others? Eng? That spoiled, arrogant, selfish twat? Ugwyll who cared only about winning and scoring? The others who alternated between wanting to find a bride and getting the hell out of here, and throwing darts at walls?

This was something I needed to consider, even if Bwat was the only member of the Tusks who showed this sort of appeal.

I went through other social media platforms, not finding Bwat or anything significant in terms of content about the team. Then I hit TikTok.

The platform was a downright shit-show of snake-oil medical advice, weird beauty tips, and rants while driving. Imagine my surprise when I found that Bwat not only had an account, but had a rather decent following.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

There was a video of Bwat introducing himself and proclaiming that he was here in search of a bride. The whole thing nearly gave me a heart attack. Then there was that agonizingly long video of teammates throwing knives at the wall in the locker room. Then a very strange tour of his bland hotel room only made interesting by his mostly naked roommate snoring on one of the beds. None of the others were any better. Well, except for the one of Grung eating the steak with apparent gusto.

There seemed to be a theme here. Bwat was the sort that did random slice-of-life videos. And while most of that tended to be boring content, occasionally there was a brilliant gem. He had a sort of innocent enthusiasm to his posts that often worked on TikTok. But he needed help. Desperately needed help. And he needed a different strategy for Instagram.

No other orc on the team seemed at all interested in this sort of thing. I’d need to push them into the limelight and get them to post on their own accounts as well as tagging the team one, but of all the orcs, Bwat had the lead when it came to social media. It wasn’t a huge lead, but comparatively it was a lead. And I needed to take advantage of his enthusiasm as well as the public’s overall positive response to his posts – bots and spam accounts aside.