Page 51 of Coach's Temptation

The ref skates past, dismissive. "I called play on. That's the call."

"Bullshit! Twenty-seven left his feet!"

My blood's boiling as Vancouver takes possession. The game flies by and nothing I change is working. We're down by one in the third, and these zebras are letting them get away with murder.

"SHORT SHIFTS!" I bark, pacing behind the bench. "HIGH PRESSURE! DON'T GIVE THEM AN INCH!"

Natalie appears at my side, her voice low and steady. "Logan's ribs are bruised but intact. He can play through it."

I nod, eyes locked on the ice where Blake's fighting for position. Vancouver's defense is starting to crack, their movements getting sloppy with fatigue.

The Nest is behind us all the way, and finally, their screaming pays off.

Blake intercepts a lazy pass at center ice. He's got speed, burning past their defenseman like he's standing still. The Vancouver D-man reaches, desperate, but Blake's already gone.

He dekes left, pulls right, and the goalie bites hard.

Blake shoots.

The puck hits twine.

The arena explodes.

My fist slams the boards as the goal horn blares. Tie game and we're heading to overtime to decide this one.

Blake circles the arena, blows kisses to his girl up in the corporate box and slaps our hands as he skates past the box.

I'm stone-cold at the bench, every muscle locked. No more yelling. No more pacing. Just pure focus as overtime begins.

The crowd's deafening, but I filter it out.

One mistake. One shot. That's all it takes in overtime.

My mind catalogs every detail. Vancouver's defense is gassed, their passes getting sloppy. But they're still dangerous - maybe more so now that they're desperate.

Blake takes a hit along the boards but maintains possession. Logan, still favoring his ribs, positions himself perfectly to clear the zone. The pieces are moving exactly where they need to be.

Vancouver's getting cocky. Their D-man pinches too hard at our blue line, trying to keep the puck in. Fatal mistake.

Ryder sees it. He's already moving before the puck squirts free. Kid's got wheels - he blazes up the wing like he's been shot from a cannon.

Vancouver's scrambling to recover, but they're too late. Ryder's got a clear lane, and Blake's streaking up the middle.

"Yes! Go!" I shout, heart pounding.

The pass is perfect - tape to tape.

Blake catches it in stride. He's one-on-one with their goalie now.

Goalie bites again. To his left. Just like before.

Blake's all over him, he's in his head and he pulls it right.

The puck leaves his stick, hitting top shelf.

Game over.

The Nest erupts. My players pour over the boards, mobbing Blake at center ice. The sound is physical now, a wave of pure joy and relief washing over everything.

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