Page 125 of The Last Guy On Earth
The arena’s lights glint off the Cup as it’s passed around. When it reaches me, I clutch it with both hands. It’s heavier than I remember. And it hits me that this moment—this perfect, glorious moment—might be my last act as a professional hockey player.
A few years back, one of my teammates goaded me into bungee jumping with him in British Columbia. I teetered there on the platform, unsure if I was going to do it until the moment I actually jumped.
That’s me right now. Half of me wants to stay here on the platform. The other half feels the ache in my ankle and the weariness in my bones and the rightness of going out on top.
I take one last look around the arena, trying to commit every detail to memory. Then I lift the Cup high above my head and let the roar of the crowd wash over me one last time.
FIFTY-SIX
Clay
I’ve never had somany hours of joy in one night. Every smile lifts me higher. Every back pat. Every shout of victory.
Even the champagne shower I’m treated to in the dressing room is a blessing.
The place is packed with players, families, and media. Every ten seconds I’m hit with another cry of “Hey, Coach!” and then I’m shaking someone else’s hand, and trying to give intelligible soundbites to people who’ll be covering our victory.
“Clayzy!” my sister manages to shout at one point. “Over here!”
I swim through another clot of people to find my sister, her baby bump, and Raul. They’re beaming at me. Then I happen to glance at the couple beside them. My parents.
I blink. “You came?”
My mother laughs. “Congratulations, Clay. This is really something. Your sister said we shouldn’t miss it.”
I’m startled again as my father pulls me into a hug. “The youngest coach in the league gets it done in game six!” he says proudly. “I guess we won’t be needing that hotel room in Raleigh tomorrow night.”
“No you won’t,” I say, recovering. “Didn’t know you’d become a hockey fan, though.”
He shrugs. “I’m not. But I’m a fan of yours, Clay. I’m sorry if I wasn’t always so understanding of your career. Middle age has a way of showing you all the things you’ve missed, though.”
“Thanks?” I try to wrap my head around this development. “Sorry I’m tied up here for a while. It would be great to visit with you guys.”
“Tomorrow,” my mother says, reaching out to pat my arm. “We know it’s a big night. How about brunch?”
“Brunch sounds great,” I say. “I’ll be there.”
My mother kisses my cheek. As I wander back into the chaos, I’m still a little dazed.
Two hours later, I reek of champagne and cigar smoke. Players’ families and the press have cleared out. The players are finishing up long-delayed showers and taking selfies with the Cup, before they head off to party at a nearby club.
I’ve never stayed so late at the arena or gotten tipsy in the locker room. I find myself wondering how much an eventual Uber to Boulder is going to set me back, before remembering that money doesn’t matter. Not tonight anyway.
The only thing that matters is this team. This moment. This victory. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle. “Guys? Can I have your attention?”
Wet heads turn in my direction. Everyone looks jubilant. “I’ve given you a lot of speeches this year. But you’re going to have to forgive me one more. Because I can’t leave here tonight without telling you how proud I am. How humbled I am by youreffort and your sacrifice. The only way we arrived here tonight was by all of you giving a hundred percent, and then some.”
I glance at each man in turn, and they’re all smiling. Naturally, my gaze rests for an extra beat on Jethro. He’s got his feet kicked up onto an exercise ball, like a guy in a lounge chair. His arms are crossed as he gives me a lazy grin.
God, I love that man, and I don’t have the first idea what to do about it.
“I know you didn’t do it for me,” I say. “But thank you for making me the proudest man in hockey. My gratitude for you runs deep, and I can’t believe I have the best job in the world. Can’t wait until our championship rings show up. I’ve been saving space right here.” I lift my hand in the air, and everyone laughs. “So thank you and good night.”
There’s loud applause. Kapski jumps up and waves his hands. “I just want to echo everything that Coach said. I have so much faith in all of you, and it’s an honor to be your captain. Does anyone else have anything they need to say before we head out to party until dawn?”
More applause, and then a hand goes up. Jethro’s.
My heart stumbles a little as he kicks his feet off their perch and stands up. “Team, look, I appreciate your patience with me this season. Took me a while to become the goalie you needed.”
