Page 152

Deking around a Canadiens defenceman and circling the Montréal net, Gilmour pulled Georgie and the entire crowd onto their feet in breathless anticipation. The Habs goaltender slid across the crease, jamming his skate and pad against the post, thwarting 93’s wraparound attempt and igniting a booming collective groan.

“Shi—!” Georgie’s swear stalled on her tongue as Wendel Clark pounced on the rebound and snapped his wrist, propelling the puck under the goalie’s arm, tying the score 4-4.

“YESSS!” She shrieked as the Gardens descended into mayhem and the five Leafs on the ice swarmed Clark. Jumping up and down with Michael, popcorn flying, drinks spilling, she screamed with joyful relief and high-fived all her friends and several strangers.

“Get one more, oh please god, ONE MORE!” Knees shaking, Georgie grasped Michael’s arm and fought back tears. She’d dreamt of being this close to winning the Cup for years, but nothing in her imagination prepared for the frantic, breathless reality. The frazzled nerves, the queasy dizziness, the flop sweats…and with less than ninety seconds left in the third period, anything could happen: a Leafs win, a Habs victory, or dreaded overtime.

Clutching his program, Ezio made his preference known amid the shouts and cheers rising around him. “My heart can’t handle another OT!”

“Especially if they shut concessions like last time,” grumbled Terry. “Selling only ice cream b⁠—”

Paul Morris’s announcement cut off his complaint. “Toronto goal, scored by number seventeen Wendel Clark—unassisted. Time 18:38.”

“Wendel, we LOVE you!” Georgie bellowed with Leesa. Laughing, she clapped and bounced, gazing downward, spying Oliver taking their photo.

Bless him. Georgie waved. He’s the only one NOT freaking out.

The teams reconvened at centre ice for the faceoff, but everyone remained on their feet chanting a rafter-shaking, “GO LEAFS GO!” on repeat.

The Leafs faceoff specialist, Peter Zezel, lost the draw, and Montréal surged forward in full flight, their clever passes hogtying the Leafs and keeping them hemmed in their own end for what felt like an eternity. Goalie Felix Potvin kicked and batted away an onslaught, each foiled scoring attempt commended with oohs and ahhs from the fans. Bob Rouse and Jamie Macoun joined in, blocking shots like a squad possessed, doing everything to hold on to the precarious tie and force overtime.

“Last minute of play in this period,” announced Paul Morris, his delivery characteristically unemotional despite the frenzied battle on the ice.

Georgie’s heart raced. “Hold on, hold ON!” She worried her bottom lip. We’re so close!

“SHIT!” shouted Randall. “Habs are gonna score, I just know it!” Planting his hands on his head, he closed his eyes, unable to watch.

Chest pounding, Georgie couldn’t look away.

Soccer skills on display, Peter Zezel booted the puck between the skates of one of the Habs, where Mark Osborne waited, breaking out of their zone with four Canadiens in pursuit and only one man back. He passed to Bill Berg, catching up on his left, who banked the puck off the glass and past the lone Montréal defenceman.

“Freeze the puck!” Georgie glanced at the dwindling time—twelve seconds—on the clock as the Leafs checking line stormed the blue line. “Get a faceoff!”

“And fresh legs,” added Michael.

Gunning for the boards, Zezel was bodychecked hard but pushed through, coming up with the puck. The Habs grabbed and hooked him from behind, but Zezel shook two of them off. He faked a pass to Osborne out in front and took a shot from ten yards out. The collective breath of the Gardens hitched as the puck soared up, over the goalie’s blocker, and into the back of the net with no time to spare.

Heart thrashing, eyes bulging, Georgie reeled forward, exhaling on a high-pitched shriek. “WE DID IT!” She foisted her hands in the air and jumped up and down, screaming “OH MY GOD” alongside Michael’s “WE FUCKIN’ WON!”, barely believing what was unfolding: Leafs players pouring off the bench and piling on top of Zezel, Michael in joyful tears crumpling back down into his seat, her hockey family screaming and frantically hugging or high-fiving anyone within reach…

But it was happening—for real. Stanley was coming home to Toronto. Finally.

Every section—golds through grey—was a leaping, ear-splitting mass of jubilation, twenty-six years in the making. Georgie embraced Leesa and Randall behind her, squealed and mirrored Kaitlin’s ‘number one’ gesture back at her, then shouted “I love you!” down to Oliver as he beamed and waved from behind her camera. Paul Morris announced the winning goal and she broke into a happy dance. Michael, swiping away tears, joined her, their giddy laughter punctuated with shouts of “I can’t believe it!” and “Stanley Cup, Stanley Cup!”

Lurching in front of Michael, Georgie smacked hands with Ezio and Terry, and her triumphant gaze snagged on the grey seat behind her best friend, seat 12 where her dad used to cheer by her side. Recalling his silly gameday superstitions, weakness for popcorn, and how he’d soothe her little kid nerves whenever the team was losing—“Always be-Leaf, Georgie, always be-Leaf”—her chin quivered and she burst into tears.

“Aw, Gi.” Michael gathered her in as she shook with sobs of both joy and loss, thinking of her dad and how she so desperately wished he could’ve been there.

FORTY-SEVEN

OLIVER

The pandemonium inside the sweaty, standing-room-only Gardens exploded to a fever pitch as the league’s president handed Leafs captain Wendel Clark the sparkling Stanley Cup. He hoisted it above his head, holding it proudly for all of Toronto, and the rapturous roar raised goosebumps on Oliver’s neck. Holy shit…

Pausing behind Georgie’s camera, he half-laughed at his body’s reaction and snapped more photos—strangers embracing strangers, the players taking turns parading the Cup around the rink, ushers wiping their eyes with their sleeves—capturing the pure exultation of hoping for something for so damn long and then finally getting it.

Like a loving father. Or a perfect girlfriend. Heart full, Oliver’s eyes began to sting.

Lowering the camera, he turned and glanced up at Georgie. Smiling through tears, she laughed and hugged her friends, soaking up every single moment.