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I see red.
No one makes a play that dirty against one of our guys and gets away with it. I’m even more incensed when I hear no whistle, as the refs seem willing to let the play continue after a clear as day foul.
Well, if that wasn’t enough to get them to blow a damn whistle, I’ll make it happen.
I build up steam and bodycheck Jake Hartford hard against the dasher boards, throwing a couple punches afterward for good measure.
Arms are all around me pulling me away as the harsh call of the ref’s whistle stops play. Jake isn’t even able to get one hit on me by the time I’m pulled off him; once we’re both restrained, I blow him a kiss just to add insult to injury.
Those two punches that connected clean, which I can already tell are going to leave a mark right underneath his eye, were well worth the Sin Bin time I’m sentenced to.
I start to rethink that sentiment though, once Ohio rallies a power play now that we’re down one man and scores another goal on us, just a minute after I’ve taken my seat.
Suddenly, we’re down three goals. 5-2.
I was concerned at 4-2. Now I’m worried.
The three-point lead must make Ohio feel like they can let up on the pressure, as their defensive play slacks and Hunter scores a goal soon after theirs. Once I rejoin play, we’re back to being down two at 5-3, just like we were when I took my penalty.
I play explosively now that I’ve had a couple minutes to rest, and I sink a goal within three minutes back, taking us to 5-4.
We’re only down by one. But we’ve only got five minutes of play left to work with.
In the last minute, Tristan scores another goal, drawing a pained groan from the hometown crowd. By the skin of our teeth, we’ve come back from being down by three to force this game into overtime.
The intensity of play doesn’t let up in overtime. Both Cole and Ohio’s goalie block shot after shot, both of them in the zone. Overtime ends scoreless, sending us to a shootout.
Both goalies continue their hot streak, blocking every shot of the shootout.
At least, they all have been so far. I have the very last shot of the game. Either I slam this puck into the back of the net and give us a victory on the road, or the game ends in a tie.
I turn my head to the side, scanning the crowd that’s almost entirely hostile—and then I find her.
Zoey. She has a Ridley U hoodie on amongst a sea of orange Ohio apparel. When our eyes meet across the distance, a rush surges through me.
I start off skating slowly, swooshing the puck back and forth over the ice with my stick, tracking the goalie’s eyes. Time stands still as I glide forward, drowning out the boos of the Ohio crowd.
Until, just when I sense the goalie is least prepared for it, I fire off a lightning-fast strike to the puck.
It slips right between his legs and finds the back of the net.
In a flash, my teammates are all around me, jostling into me, slapping my helmet, shaking my shoulders, celebrating the victory.
In the middle of their celebration, I turn my head back to the side of the rink, up to the stands, where I see Zoey celebrating in a crowd of otherwise gloomy, grumbling Ohio fans.
Seeing her jumping up and down in excitement, her eyes glued to me, feels even better than scoring that goal.
* * *
When we getto our hotel room, Hunter falls on his bed and passes out immediately. He’s snoring before he’s even kicked his shoes off, his knees dangling off the edge of the bed and his head lying flat on the mattress, a good two feet away from the pillows.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” I clack my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I lift Hunter’s head up and slide a pillow under it. Can’t have one of our star players dealing with a sore neck, after all.
I change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but when I lay down on the bed, I find that I have to get back up a minute later. I’m still buzzing with too much excitement. I haven’t totally come down from the high of winning the shootout.
Plus, my stomach is growling. I pick up my wallet and the keycard to the room and head out into the hallway to take a trip to the vending machines.
I pad down the long, empty, carpeted hotel hallway to a tiny alcove holding the vending machines and ice machine. Man, I could go for a Snickers right now. Maybe some peanut M&Ms, too. Maybe putting myself into a junk food coma will make it easier to get some sleep.
