Fending off a slippery L.A. counterattack, James shocked the league and the 18,000+ fans in attendance by scoring a goalie goal, a full-ice shot that soared past L.A.’s scrambling defense and past the glove of goaltender Kaspar Andersson to tie up the game.
“I saw the opening and figured, why the hell not,” James said postgame, still visibly in disbelief. “Not like I practice those. Except… okay. I maybe practice those.”
The goal, scored with 0:47 left in the second period, lit up the arena—literally and figuratively—as teammates mobbed the young goaltender while the building shook with cheers. It was the first goalie goal in Colorado Cougars history, and only the twenty-first ever recorded in NHL play.
“Kid’s got ice in his veins,” said Coach Clay Powers. “And apparently, a cannon for a stick.”
James’s Cinderella moment was made possible by Walcott’s temporary exit after a crease scramble. After concussion protocol testing during the second intermission, the Cougars cleared Walcott to return, and he took the net again to start the third.
Walcott made eight saves in the third, including a critical blocker stop on a shorthanded 2-on-1 that kept the Cougars in control. Defenseman Hudson Newgate added a late goal at 14:27 of the third, sealing the game and sending the hometown crowd into another round of celebratory chaos.
The win gives Colorado another shot at sewing up the conference title tomorrow night.
Meanwhile, all eyes remain on Becker James, whose post-game locker stall was surrounded by cameras, teammates, and a reporter who handed him a Sharpie and asked, “Can you sign my stat sheet?”
Sources say that reporter might have been me.
When I asked James for his takeaway from last night’s wild ride, he hesitated. Then he said, “Nobody expected this tonight. Didn’t know I’d be playing. Didn’t know I was about to become the answer to a pub trivia question. That’s so extra. I just wanted to stop some pucks and impress my favorite bartender.”
Sources say it probably worked.
— End Copy —
Epilogue: The Shining
Beck
Six Months Later
Practice is over, and my body is loose and tired in a good way. I tie my shoes and then check the time. One thirty. Plenty of time to meet Forest for my two o’clock appointment. The place is only a fifteen-minute drive from the Cougars’ Boulder headquarters, where I’ve been spending a lot of time this season.
Since August—when Zack Walcott took a trade to a team who wants to make him their starter—I’ve more or less become a Cougar. I have a new one-way contract, which makes my status as Coach Powers’s number-two goalie less precarious.
Tending goal for another of our winning playoffs games in the fourth round didn’t hurt either. We didn’t win the Cup, but we got damn close. I feel good about our chances this season, too.
I pull on my coat against the winter chill and grab my wet towel off the bench. Before I walk out, I take a quick glance around the room in a moment of silent appreciation. This is my life now. It’s demanding as hell, but I feel a lot of gratitude for all the new people in my life. Working hard for them is worth it.
“Want to grab lunch?” Volkov asks me as we both toss our towels into the laundry bin by the exit. “Still thinking about that sandwich place you found. The menu is super weird, but I can’t argue with that pastrami.”
“Isn’t it great?” He’s not wrong about the menu—all the sandwiches are named after horror films. The Shining, for example, is rare roast beef, camembert, and pickled onions. Plus horseradish, with a creeping heat that sneaks up on you while you eat it. Just like the film. “I could really go for a Soylent Green right now, if I had the time. But I’m meeting my boyfriend first.”
He frowns. “What’s in the Soylent Green?”
“Grilled zucchini, goat cheese, and pesto.”
“Where you off to?” Stoney asks, gripping my shoulder.
“Going to look at an apartment. But Volkov wants a lunch date.”
“Ooh! Looking at anywhere good? Lotta guys live at Red Rocks. You know that development? Nice place. Plenty of room. Plus, there’s usually good leftovers in Newgate’s fridge.”
“You mooch,” Newgate grumbles. “Last night I went home and found this dude sitting at my place at the table. He thinks he can just show up with a good bottle of red and invite himself to dinner.”
“Works every time.” Stoney shrugs. “His husband thinks I’m funny.”
“Funny looking,” whispers another player, and there’s laughter in the corridor as we trudge toward the parking lot.
“I’m not ready for Red Rocks, sadly,” I point out. “That’s way too much house for me.” Translation: too much money and commitment. My position on the team isn’t secure enough for me to sign a lease on a three-bedroom rowhouse. I need at least a solid year of NHL play under my belt before that would start to make sense.
