Page 40 of The Trade Deadline
Q:What do you think your father would think of you being a forward?
Lars Nilsson:He would look at my stats and be proud. Can’t argue with results.
Q:Why do you wear #14?
LN:Because I’m twice as good as Anders.
Q:Do you enjoy playing against your brother?
LN:Yes. I like reminding him I’m better. I do my best work against Anders.
Q:Do you think your brother’s a skilled defenseman?
LN:Sure. It wouldn’t be fun scoring against him if he weren’t.
LARS VS ANDERS: BY THE NUMBERS
The brothers have earned a combined three Stanley Cups, one gold medal, three silver medals, and one bronze medal. They’ve each won the Calder Trophy (best rookie) and the Conn Smythe Trophy (playoff MVP, which Lars has won twice). Anders has won the Norris Trophy twice (best defenseman); Lars has won the Rocket Richard Trophy twice (most goals) and the Art Ross Trophy (most points).
The brothers have faced each other 12 times since Lars’s NHL debut. In those 12 matchups, they have a combined 48 PIM (Penalty Infraction Minutes), 6 goals, 9 assists, 12 blocked shots, 18 hits, and 4 fights. The games themselves? An even 50:50 split.
Tomorrow’s matchup will be lucky game 13 for the Nilssons. Now that Lars is in the Eastern Conference, we get to enjoy the two brothers facing each other at least three times a season. It’s anyone’s guess how that’ll go for either brother or either team, but one thing’s for sure: it’ll be an exciting game to watch.
Chapter13
Ryan
If Ryan had thoughta night’s sleep might rescue Lars from Anders’s orbit, he was sorely mistaken. Lars didn’t even make eye contact with anyone as they boarded the bus to the arena, earbuds in and the music loud enough for the rest of them to hear. It wasn’t his usual pregame music, songs with a beat that would be good to dance or sing along to; it sounded like angry screaming put over some semblance of music.
Ryan didn’t like it. His discomfort lay uneasily in his belly as he watched Lars set himself up not for a game but a war. Worse, Ryan didn’t think it was his place to try and bring Lars back, to tell him whatever beef he had with his brother wasn’t as important as playing. He wasn’t sure he could even get through. The few times their eyes met, Lars barely acknowledged him if at all.
They skated onto the ice for warm-ups, Ryan doing his customary laps while he got a feel for the stadium. The place was electric, the air thick with the type of excitement Ryan hadn’t felt since the last time he was in the playoffs a few years ago with British Columbia. Despite Baltimore and Ohio not being rivals, the stands were already full and the glass was crowded with fans eager to get a look at their Otters and heckle the Crabs. There wasn’t much red and blue even on their side of the ice except?—
“Där är ni ju!” Lars shouted in excitement, his usual self emerging unexpectedly from his gloom. He said more, the sounds not quite forming words in Ryan’s head, and it took a moment for him to realize it must be Swedish. He stopped stick handling and stared as Lars skated over to two children with a sign pushed against the glass. It read in crooked letters: FARBROR WE MISSED YOU SCORE A GOAL FOR US ?? and underneath in more even writing “Don’t hurt Pappa.”
Lars, his earlier moodiness completely gone, yelled in Swedish to the two children. A girl maybe twelve years old and a boy a few years younger, both with blonde hair more white than Lars’s honey locks but with the same blue eyes and smile, pounded on the glass in delight. The girl wore a blue Team Sweden jersey with Lars’s number, the boy a Blue Crabs one. A woman stood with them, her jersey the Otter’s yellow and orange, a C visible beneath the long braid slung over one shoulder. She gave Lars an open fingered wave and then pointed at the “Don’t hurt Pappa” part of the sign sternly.
“You tell him not to hurt Uncle,” Lars shouted back.
The woman shrugged, both hands up as she exaggerated the pose, and Ryan could just barely read her lips. “I tried.”
Lars laughed. He waved to the children, fist bumping them through the glass, then yelled, “Go find your seats! I’ll score for you!”
Ryan’s heart swelled.Thiswas the man he’d accidentally started falling for, not the angry ball of rage. He smiled to himself, content to go back to his warm-up, but he didn’t look away quick enough; Lars turned away from his family and spotted Ryan. More proof he was out of his funk: he immediately skated over.
“Did you see my niece and nephew?” He was beaming and his accent was thicker than usual. “Cute, right?”
“I liked their jerseys,” Ryan joked. He hesitated before adding, “And their sign. Farbror is you, right?”
He nodded. “Father’s brother. They’re good kids. They cheer for me because I buy them ice cream if I win, and they think it’s funny to make their dad upset.” Lars chuckled, as if it were all innocent fun and not a game played on knives where he fully intended to pound their dad into the ice in front of them at the first opportunity.
“That was their mom?” Ryan asked, because what else was he supposed to say?
“Amanda? Yeah, she’s awesome. Too good for Anders, for sure.” An errant puck came their way and Lars swatted it out of the air with his stick. He barely even looked at it as he started stick handling. “But that means she’s also willing to put up with me as a brother-in-law, and she takes care of Mormor.”
“Mormor?” Ryan repeated. He’d never found not knowing Swedish to be an issue before.
“Mother’s mother. My grandma. She lives with them.” His expression turned sour. “She couldn’t come today because she’s sick, but she’ll be watching.”
