Page 73 of Goaltender Interference

Pretty damn cool.

“Fuck, this is unreal,” Tanner shouted in his ear now. He’d had a great pre-season too and was officially on the NHL roster. He was practically vibrating with excitement at playing his first NHL game and, as they stood in the tunnel waiting to be announced, Jesse could understand why.

He could hear the shouts of fans, feel the reverberation of the thumping speakers in his bones.

The music, the noise, it always gave him such a rush of energy. It made him feel like he was invincible.

“And from Toronto, Ontario, number thirty-three, Jesseeee Webberrrrr!” the announcer boomed.

Jesse shot out onto the ice, waving at the crowd, grinning madly at the cheers rising around him. For a moment, it was like he was back in Toronto, with tens of thousands of people chanting“Web-by, Web-by” like they had after one of his highlight-worthy saves during the playoffs.

Now, he blew a few kisses, then skated into position in the bright circle at the center of the ice around the Harriers logo, the ice bathed in red and yellow lights.

Next to him, Crawford tapped his shin pads and shot him a grin.

Jesse grinned back. He wasn’t in Toronto anymore but he was sure it wouldn’t be long before the crowd here loved him too.

His entire body buzzed while the rest of his teammates skated out and joined him in the circle. The mounting excitement of the crowd was palpable as the announcer went through the roster, the cheers getting louder with every name announced.

The noise rose to a fever-pitch when they reached the final player. “From right here in Boston, Massachusetts, number ninety-one, your captain, Connorrr O’Sheaaa!”

The crowd went wild, screaming and clapping and whistling. Jesse whistled too when Connor passed by him. His stick flashed out, smacking Jesse’s pads.

Jesse laughed, surprised Connor was flirting with him in front of a crowd like this. Then again, most people would chalk it up to teammates horsing around.

But either way, Jesse liked it. He liked the way Connor looked in his black uniform with the red, orange, and yellow accents, the hawk proudly displayed on his chest, the letter ‘C’ for captain sewn over his heart.

During the singing of the national anthem, he watched Connor pull his chain out of his jersey, pressing his lips to the shiny silver cross for good luck.

No, Jesse definitely wasn’t in Toronto anymore, but Boston was finally beginning to feel like home.

Connor’s blood pounded in his ears as he skated past New York’s defensemen, still in control of the puck. He could see a slight break in their defense and he faked like he was going to shoot the puck to Crawford, but fired it toward the net instead. It slid straight through the slot but it was blocked by New York’s goaltender, Joseph Walters, bouncing off his blocker, then into the netting above the boards.

Connor cursed as he skated to the bench and Graham hopped over to take the next faceoff.

They were only about five minutes into the first period but Walters had been playing great and despite all of the solid scoring chances Boston had gotten, the score was still 0-0.

Less than a minute later, Connor watched intently from the bench when Leif Rasmussen—New York Vandals’ forward and son of their associate coach Aksel—tore down the ice on a breakaway, heading for Jesse’s net.

“C’mon, c’mon, get on him!” Connor shouted and Tanner dug in with his skates, wheeling around the net to get in the New York Vandals’ player’s way. He was too late to do anything, but Jesse effortlessly swatted the puck away.

Boston fans roared their approval and Connor grinned at the way Jesse puffed up, squaring his shoulders, clearly pleased with himself.

Jesse was a total showboat and they were gonnalovehim.

Play resumed and New York picked up the pace, peppering Jesse with shots that he confidently swatted out the way or captured and held. Nothing was getting by him.

Pleased, Connor took the ice again.

He won the next faceoff and sent the puck flying toward Tanner. Tanner shot it over to Anker Henriksen, Connor’s left winger, who fired it at New York’s net where it pinged off the goalposts.

The next few minutes went back and forth, Jesse making another solid glove save on a great chance by New York.

Boston was getting outshot now though and Connor frowned as he watched the play move to Boston’s defensive zone. On his next shift, with six minutes left in the first period, he pushed harder, managing a wide-angle shot that Walters blocked.

Swearing, Connor spotted a chance for a rebound and poked at the puck, nearly getting it in before Walters covered it with his body, stopping the play.

“Fucking hell,” Connor muttered. He skated away, jostling one of New York’s defenseman in his irritation.

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