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Lynx has the puck, looking for someone open not wanting to risk losing it. He passes it backwards to Raiden, who passes it to Hudson. Baylor tries to stop him, but he passes the puck through a guy's legs, meeting it on the other side and taking a shot. It’s stopped by the goalie. That motherfucker.
A whistle blows and the play stops. My nails are going to be bitten off by the end of this.
The first period comes and goes. Remaining scoreless for both teams. Every time we are in each other's zones, the crowd is at the edge of their seats. All this stress cannot be good for our hearts.
The other team is good. Like really good. Fuck. But we are better. Without a doubt. I have seen these guys in practice. The team work, the chemistry and the skill. We have it all. We are a goddamn triple threat.
A whistle blowing catches my attention, Raiden has a guy by the collar of his jersey. We cannot afford to take a penalty, this game is too important.
Standing up, I shout, “Don’t you do it!” My vision is laser focused and I honestly think he hears me because he raises hishands and skates backwards away from the other guy. I sit down, but it's too late. Raiden gets a two-minute penalty for roughing. Motherfucker.
Special teams are now on the ice, and it’s four on five. We are a guy down and the puck is still in our zone at the faceoff. The other team is skating circles around us. They win the faceoff, and now they are trying to tire my guys out. This is not ok.
I go to stand again, but a soft hand touches mine. I turn my head to find a kind eyed older lady looking at me. “Sweetie, they will throw you out if you do it too often. Space it out, perhaps?”
She has a point. I thank her and sit back in my seat. My legs bounce uncontrollably. The other team takes a couple shots on our net, without success.
The puck bounces off Barlowe's pads and Hudson takes possession. My eyes light up with excitement. Hudson is cruising down the ice. Other than the goalie, no one is there protecting Baylor’s zone.
“Go Hudson, fucking go!” I shout amongst the loud cheers surrounding me. Come on, Hudson. You got this, baby. Please.
The same lady holds my hand, we both squeeze at the same time Hudson takes the shot. My heart drops and I am pretty sure I stop breathing.
We stand up to get a better view, the goalie sticks his leg out further to the left in an effort to block the shot. It doesn’t work. The puck flies right though his five hole and we fucking score.
We join in cheering and celebrating. I even hug my new friend. Tears of happiness and pride fill my eyes. He did it.
The team joins him in celebration. Embracing Hudson at the other end, rubbing his helmet and congratulating him. As he skates to the bench, the loud speakers vibrate as the goal is announced. Cheers erupt in the rink again. I can see a smile on Hudson’s face through his face shield. His eyes are on me and he gives a slight nod.
I smile back, wiping a tear. He winks and I know he is laughing at me for my over-the-top emotions. But this is a big deal.
Sitting down, I let go of my new friend's hand. “You keep him. He looked for you after he scored the biggest goal of his life. You keep him. And make sure he knows how to keep you,” she tells me.
“Thank you.” I can’t say much more than that, not wanting to draw anymore attention to this.
The score remains one to nothing as the second period wraps up and we head into the third.
The other team has been in our zone way too many times and for way too fucking long for my liking this period. I’m about ready to go out there myself and tell them to leave us alone.
I know my nostrils are flaring and I look like a crazed person, but any fucks I had about that are long gone.
Landon and Raiden have been on the ice for too long, there's been a line change already, but they can’t go. Baylor is causing too much havoc around our goalie for them to switch off.
They are tired, their legs aren’t moving as fast. They need a break.
Then out of nowhere, because I wasn’t paying attention to the other team, Landon slides his body across the ice in front of Barlowe. He’s blocking the shot.
He is using his body to block the freaking shot.
The puck is flying at a speed I can’t even imagine. It connects directly with his face shield on his helmet. It’s made of metal wiring and a clear half face visor, but it was not made to block shots like this.
His head jerks back, and the puck slides away. Landon immediately grabs onto his helmet, his knees curling into him. The crowd gasps, then it goes completely silent as we all watchhim. Please get up. Please be ok. His loud yell echoes through the arena.
No. He’s hurt. But how bad?
The nice old lady next to me holds my hand again, “He will be ok, dear. If he is hurt, you need to be strong for him. He will need it.”
I look at her quickly in disbelief, “How?”
