Page 89 of Snowballed

Hunts hears me and nods. He passes on the same message to his D partner, Murph.

Meysy and I skate out for a face-off in our own zone.

“You go net front. I’ll cover 24,” I say. He’s their go-to winger with a deadly release. When the Huskies win a face-off, they send the puck straight back to him. It’s a set play, but it’s not happening this time.

Wags loses the face-off, and sure enough the puck is heading towards 24, but I intercept it. There are two options now: Scovy streaking down the far boards or Vonne behind me. I take the safe play and make a no-look pass back. Vonne takes off with Wags. I follow and position myself on the point. Vonne is driving towards the goal, but with two Huskies defensemen there, he takes the puck behind the net. Once Vonne gets double-teamed, he throws the puck back to me. I’ve got time and space, so I unleash a slapshot that heads towards the bodies jostling in front of the net. Wags tips the shot over the shoulder of the Huskies goalie.

Goal!

We rush over to embrace Wags. As we skate to the bench for fist bumps, he says to me, “We’ve got a psychic connection, roomie.”

“Jesus. I want no connection to your fucked-up brain.” But we’re both grinning.

Coach Keller smacks us on the backs. “Good goal, boys.”

The goal energizes us. Our shifts are high energy, and we’re trapping Northeastern in their zone. After they ice the puck, Coach puts out Roser’s line. Roser wins the draw and sends the puck to J.D. who one-times it. Their goalie saves it, but there’s a rebound and a scramble in front of the net with four guys battling. The puck bounces off the Huskies defenseman and goes in.

Tie game.

We leap up in celebration, but part of me is empathetic. Every defenseman has done something like that in his career, and it feels like shit.

Northeastern is reeling now, and we keep attacking. When Scovy draws a crosschecking penalty from the same poor bastard who scored the own goal, it feels like our moment.

As I sail out with the first power play, Scovy smirks on his way back and says, “Go get ’em, boys.” I know beyond a doubt that he goaded that d-man into the penalty, probably taunting him about the own-goal. That’s why you have to keep your cool. Guys will say shit about your family, your girlfriend, your play, all to make you mad. I often hear how much I suck compared to my dad.

Sure enough, as we’re getting in position for the faceoff, some asshole tells me he fucked my girlfriend last night. Since my girlfriend is both in Massachusetts and not my girlfriend anymore, I’m not offended. I’m not even going to think about Zoe because it will only distract me.

Wags wins the puck, and we start passing it around the perimeter, looking for gaps. I play with the puck and feint moving in, drawing a Huskies forward to me. Then I pass the puck to Vonne, who sends it through the crease. J.D. is right there and makes no mistake.

3—2.

J.D. slides on his knees in an ecstatic goal celly, and we pile on him. But only for a moment, because we’ve still got two minutes to play.

Northeastern calls a time-out, and Coach Keller comes down the defense end of the bench.

“Hunts, Goody. I’m putting you guys out there as a shut-down pair.”

We nod. We’ve hardly played together all season because we’re similar defensive players and we’re both good. Coach usually keeps the D pairings balanced.

We skate out. I go back to our zone and tap Briggs on the pads. “Got the A Team out here for you. Let’s shut the door on these guys.”

Briggs nods. He hasn’t had a ton of action in this period, so hopefully he’s still sharp.

Northeastern wins the face-off, and as soon as they’re deep in our zone, their goalie comes off for an extra attacker. Then we’re trapped. They’re pouring it on, taking shot after shot. We’re blocking shots, and Briggs is making saves until J.D. finally gets the puck and skates it out of our zone, he aims for the empty net, but a Huskies player gets there first. Our forwards change, but Hunts and I are stuck out there. I’m too busy to even look up at the clock, so I’m grateful when someone calls out, “Ten seconds left.”

I’m battling a forward in front of the net when a shot whizzes by me. It’s headed straight for the top corner, but my stick is tied up and I can’t deflect it. I watch the puck go by me in slow motion towards the net. And just as slowly, I see Brigg’s glove come out and snag it.

There’s the blessed sound of the buzzer. The home crowd goes crazy for our comeback win, and the team pours onto the ice to congratulate Briggs.

I’m exhausted, and I’ve got new bruises all over my body, but I feel great. We’re on a high as we make our way to the room. While winning always feels good, winning as a team—when everyone contributes—is the absolute high.

My high lasts until I go to bed. In the darkness, I stare at the nondescript ceiling and think about how hockey alone isn’t enough anymore.

31

Zoe

I confide everything to Rocky on our road trip. Of course I wait until we’re alone in our hotel room, because I don’t want anyone else to hear.

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