Page 117 of Hockey Bois
“You gotta get Lexi off the ice,” Brady added. “He’s pissed, and he’s hurt. Not a good combo.”
Benns sighed and let out a rare curse. “Fuck, this is a mess. Yeah, good idea. Full change. We’ve got three minutes before overtime; let’s make them count. I think we’d all appreciate this one ending quick, and in our favor.”
*
Despite playing their hearts out, they couldn’t get it done. Nick sprinted hard the first thirty seconds he was on the ice only to have a sketchy icing call tire him out before he could do anything productive. He went for the change, thankful that beer-league rules didn’t care about icing as much as the big leagues.
“How’s your leg?” he asked Lexi. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the game, but he could at least play nice.
“Probably bruised. Landed on my stick right between the pads. Short shift out there.Yourlegs okay?”
“I’m shit at sprinting, so no, they’re not great.”
“Too bad, man. Thought you had that icing waved off.”
“Icing’s a joke in this league.”
“Well, save it for OT.”
There was a late puck cover with a buck-ten left, spurring a line change on both sides. Regulation fizzled out with nobody able to do anything meaningful. Even when Mags had a clear shot at the net, his stick broke, and he flubbed the shot well short.
The buzzer sounded, a wet noodle of an ending if there ever was one.
“This fucking ssssucks,” Young Greg sang as he skated in slow circles in front of the bench. “S-U-C-K-S sucks sucks sucks!”
“With that attitude, yes, it does,” Benns said. It was the closest to real anger Nick had seen from their stalwart captain, and like everyone else, he fell silent. “I know this is frustrating. We’ve outplayed them most of the game, and if it weren’t for a cheap play and a bad no-call, we’d be in the handshake line right now about to celebrate in the locker room. I’d even brought some beer for that very occasion, as I’m relatively sure some of you did.”
“Jinx,” Gail said weakly and sighed, her whole body slumped where she rested against her stick.
“No, no jinx. Just delayed,” Benns said. “That beer’s still waiting for us. That handshake line will feel as good with a win now as it would’ve then. Irefuseto let these guys, who have been mediocre all post-season and dicks tonight, take our spot in Toronto. We’ve put in the time, and we’ve got the grit, so let’s do this. Hands in, guys and Gail. Jagr Bombs on three, and then we get this W. One. Two. Three.”
“JAGR BOMBS!”
“Good! Now, let’s win that ridiculously oversized coffee cup and send these guys back home empty-handed!”
Benns, no matter what anyone might say about him, was a damn good captain. It was like he’d flicked a switch, their earlier anger channeled into fierce determination. This championship was theirs to win or lose, and they were going to fuckingwin it.
“Who’s up first?” Gail asked. She’d positioned herself a few feet from the bench, close enough that she could come back if need be but clearly wanting to start out.
“I need another minute,” Lexi said. He stretched his leg and winced. “Only a five-minute period, right? I’ll be good for one or two hard shifts. I just need a bit more time.”
“Five-minute period,” Benns confirmed. “Then a shootout if necessary.”
“What the hell kind of championship is decided by a shootout?” GG mumbled under his breath.
“The Olympics,” Brady said.
“World Championship,” Nick added.
“Juniors—” Lexi started.
“Not the NHL, though,” GG groused. “NHL’s got standards.”
“They also play seven games per round after an eighty-two game season, are professional athletes, and have a giant metal trophy instead of a coffee cup. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re a few notches down from there, bud,” Gail said.
“True, but—”
“You don’t want a shootout, then score,” Benns said. “Any one of you can do it, so do it. If you’re wondering if this is your time to step up, it is.”
