Page 63 of Zero Pucks Given
“All we can do is give it our best effort.”
“One game at a time.”
“Need to focus on creating opportunities for my teammates on the ice.”
“We may be the underdogs, but I think we match up well against the Oilers.”
When the media circus was over, I went back to the hotel room to take a nap. I even managed to catch an hour of sleep, although I still didn’t feel particularly rested afterward.
Everything was a blur after that. Putting on my suit. Boarding the team bus outside the hotel, even though the arena was only three blocks away. Walking from the bus to the visiting locker room and changing into my practice gear.
The routine was calming, though I still didn’t quite feel like myself.
Then the lights dimmed, and the arena thundered with jeers and boos. I stood just outside the spotlight, waiting for my name to be called. It was loud—relentlessly so—as thousands of Oilers fans unleashed a wall of noise meant to rattle us.
“Number eleven,” the announcer boomed, “playing Center, Grayson Steele.”
My skates crunched softly on the entry mat, drowned out by the roar of boos from the hometown crowd. Even though my heart felt like it was trying to pound its way through all the layers of gear I was wearing, I held my chin up and kept my face blank. The noise washed over me. It was hostile, sure—but it was electric.
This was playoff hockey, and there was nowhere else I would rather be.
This was what Ilivedfor.
We stood in a line on the ice as the American National Anthem was played, followed by the Canadian one. As soon as it ended, I skated around the rink, warming my legs up.
That’s when I spotted her.
Josie was sitting in the front row behind our team bench, wearing the same number eleven Surge jersey from our private ice skating date. I’d managed to forget about her during the pre-game routine, but now she was front-and-center in my mind.
She gave me a small smile.
A strange feeling came over me as I skated to center ice for the puck drop. It was like my body had been filled with helium, making me feel lighter. And stronger. I seized on that feeling, grateful for the energy that came with it as I lined up against the captain of the Oilers.
“Let’s have a good, clean game,” the referee holding the puck told us.
The Oilers player nodded politely at me, but I was already putting my game face on.
And it wasn’t an act.
The moment the puck hit the ice, I slashed out with my stick, passing it backwards to a teammate. I juked the opposing player, cut across the ice diagonally, exposing a weakness I’d noticed while reviewing game footage. I was wide open for a few precious seconds, and that’s all I needed. I received a pass from Tyler on the wing and immediately fired it at the goal, glancing it off the Oilers goaltender and into the net.
The arena filled with groans from the Edmonton fans, and cheers from the Surge fans that had made the trip here. I pumped my fist and celebrated as my teammates surrounded me, bombarding me with praise.
“Let’s fuckinggo!”
“Atta boy, Captain.”
“You hear that crowd? They shut up real fast!”
As soon as the celebration ended, I looked to Josie behind the bench. She was clapping and grinning like we’d won the Stanley Cup.
It filled me with more energy than a full night of sleep ever could.
I was in the zone from that point forward. It was like the game slowed down around me. I could see plays developing, recognizing what the Oilers were going to do before it happened. Every time they got the puck, we smothered them with our defense.
Later in the first period, I saw one such play developing. I skated over to their Center, lingering in his blind spot. Waiting for my moment.
He received the puck from a teammate, then turned and began to sprint—
