Then I got curious about men from my past, whom I'd find through email addresses or in public records listings. My first curiosity was Ethan, one of Jamie’s former teammates, who was now playing in Chicago. I’d seen him on the cover of one of the Chicago tabloids, recognizing him because of his checkerboarded leather equipment. The goalie looked like he belonged on a Harley-Davidson, shirtless, with his thick shoulders and big hands. We talked once, at a party at a teammate’s house, and he fascinated me, maybe just because he was such an offbeat guy, or maybe it was because he drove a Jeep like mine, except his was silver.

He looked like a linebacker, not a goalie. As Jamie once told me, he played like one, too. Jamie always complained about Ethan, about his lack of work ethic and...

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