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We celebrate the goal, going up one-nothing, and tap gloves as we skate down the bench. Then, we line up for the face-off at centre ice.
Brandon Hummel, the Columbus enforcer, shoulders up next to me.
"Nice moves, Monk," he snickers. "Didn't know you were into home videos. I'm surprised your dick still works. After the game, mind if I take your bunny for a ride? She can bounce on me too."
The puck hasn't even hit the ice before my gloves and stick drop. Hummel is caught by surprise when one fist grabs his jersey at the neck, and the other slams into his jaw. His head snaps back, but he recovers quickly, throwing a punch at me. The linesmen let us go, and we circle each other, fists raised.
"So, I guess that's a no on letting me take the team slut for a spin," he jeers.
"Fuck you!"
My rage boils over as I grab Hummel again. He lands one good punch in my left eye, but that's all he can manage before I break his nose and knock out two of his teeth. Hummel crumples to the ground and has to leave the ice for repairs while I'm sent to the box fuming.
My temper snaps again when the refs assess me a five-minute major for fighting and two minutes for instigating.
"Are you fucking serious?" I yell at the refs. "That little prick started this bullshit. All I did was finish it!"
The refs ignore me, and I feel myself start to unravel.
"You fucking idiots! What does the league pay you for? Do your fucking job. Did you come here from Columbus with these pussies?"
"That's it, Gunner! You're done," one ref yells, indicating a ten-minute misconduct, officially ending my night unless we go to overtime.
I'm sent down the tunnel without a word from Coach or the guys. In the dressing room, I hear the crowd groan.
Columbus scored on the two-minute power play.
There are still five minutes left to play of even-strength hockey, but my absence means our lines are going to be all fucked up. I need the guys to shut it down until the end of the period so we can start fresh in overtime—or score and end it now.
We have a TV in the locker room and I watch as the clock ticks closer to zero and the end of regulation.
The guys are struggling. I lost my temper and now my team is paying for my mistake. We are out of sync. Guys are playing with linemates they aren't used to, and Columbus is putting pressure on them.
Luke collects the puck behind LaRoux while Columbus touches up offside. Pebbles and Bam-Bam start breaking out up ice, and Luke throws a stretch pass that connects with Drake. I stand, eyes locked on the TV. We can end this now. Drake skates in on Bobbington, who is trying to decide whether a shot or pass is coming. It's a pass. The puck floats over to Bam-Bam, who redirects the puck at the wide-open cage.
And then, Bobbington pushes off one post, sliding over to the other, blocker and stick outstretched. It's a move of desperation from a beaten goalie.
The puck should be in the net, but it's not. Somehow, the paddle of the goalie stick gets in the way. The rebound shoots out to the corner and is picked up by the Comets' defender.
In the blink of an eye, the play breaks out in the opposite direction, two-on-one. Luke tries to eliminate one of the options by taking away the passing lane. He goes down, attempting to swipe the puck away with him. Unfortunately, the forward side-steps Luke, toe-drags, and roofs the puck up into the top corner past LaRoux.
FUCK.
The Columbus bench explodes. There are only five-point-three seconds left. There's no way we can come back from this.
We just lost game one, and it's my fault.
20?
Coming Clean
Ryan
The guys file into the room in silence, faces drawn, mouths turned down into grim lines. I avoid looking anyone in the eyes. I know this loss is on me. It's only one game, but it's the first of the series, and we lost it on home ice. We've lost home ice advantage, we're in a hole, and we have to win it back.
Once everyone sits in their stalls, I stand. I'm not going to be a coward. This loss was my fault, and I'm going to own up to it.
"Look, guys," I start, staring down at everyone in the room. "This is on me. I should have kept my mouth shut, and I lost my composure. It won't happen again. I let the team down, but we'll win the next one. We've got this. I've been a part of a lot of different teams in my career, and I've never felt chemistry like we have. We are more than just a team. We're family, and we're going to win. I can feel it."
