Page 108 of Hot Puck
Boston has put us through the wringer to get here. They might not have won as many games as us, but they haven’t let us walk away with the wins either.
We’ve fought with everything we have to get those games to go our way. And tonight, we stand to win double if we can keep ahead of Boston.
The game and the Cup.
The coaches have been doing their best to keep us grounded. To keep us from, as Oakley says, counting our goals before they’re scored.
Win or lose, we can hold our heads up high. We came into the league determined to prove we belong, and we didn’t just show them. We slapped them in the face with it.
The locker room is buzzing even though no one is really talking. It’s hushed words and pre-game rituals. Equipment prep and lucky sock wearing. It’s Zen music and hard rock and complete silence.
Each of us has a different routine to get our heads in the game. Ways we either repeat over and over every game or try and push aside when we feel they aren’t working.
I’ve never really had a ritual. I prep my gear, lay it out on the floor in front of me, then put each piece on. I guess that’s a kind of ritual.
“All right, guys!” Coach Alcott shouts to get our attention. “The GM wants to have a quick word.”
My gaze darts up. I hadn’t expected to see Gem before the game. She usually waits until after to speak to the team. When she steps into the room she’s dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks and a Rogues jersey. I’d love to see my name on the back of it—my number.
But that’s a pipe dream for later. I’ll slot it alongside our Vegas encounter.
“Let me start with this. Thank you.” Her gaze moves around the room, making eye contact with each man before moving to the next. “If it wasn’t for all of you, we wouldn’t be here. I can stand here and pretend it’s because I brought all of you to Baton Rouge, but we all know that’s just the vehicle that got you to the ice. It’s what you all did when you got on the ice that matters most.”
Her gaze moves around continuously, and the expression on her face is one of genuine affection, appreciation.
“You go out there tonight and hold your heads high because you deserve to. You made this happen. For yourselves, each other, the Rogues’ org, and the fans. You, not this puppet master with her strings. And when we’re done, when the last puck has been sent over the goal line, no matter what the score reads, you come back to this room with those heads just as high.”
Her watch beeps and she lifts her arm, but her eyes are still on the room, not the device on her wrist.
“That’s my cue. And yours. Time to show the world this season is not a fluke. Get out there and give a lesson in game winning hockey!”
The room erupts in hooting and hollering and clapping and stomping feet. And with a smile on her face and a wave of her hand, Gem leaves us to finish our game prep.
I can see her words have resonated with all of us. She’s right. It doesn’t matter who got us here, it’s what we did when we arrived that made us the team we are.
Concentrating on getting dressed, I play a game in my head, roll through the moves I’ll need to make, possible places the puck can come at me, ways to stop it. Always stopping it.
“Okay, this is it!” Coach Alcott calls out. “Last minute. Get your shit together, boys, we’re about to make history.”
He turns to Coach Watts, and they open the door wide, hold it that way ready for us to head out. I see some of the guys do their last second rituals. Mikel Vinter kisses his stick, Cutter Jepson crosses his chest and says a prayer, and Gannon Byrd removes the necklace from around his neck, presses the ring it holds against his lips then his chest before placing it in his locker.
Me? I put on my helmet and lower the mask. I won’t take it off until the end of the game. It’s the final act that puts my head into game mode.
As I walk down the tunnel, I can hear the crowd, feel the vibrations of the cheers and stamping feet. This is it.
Getting to play in the NHL was the dream.
Playing for the Cup? The ultimate fantasy.
Waiting in line, I close my eyes and whisper, “This one’s for you, Mom and Dad.”
Everything is a blur after that. Warm up, player announcements, the first puck drop. It’s as though I enter a trance, like some Tibetan monk; I’m here but not.
We dominate in the first period. Enter the locker room with a score of two zip. When we hit the ice after the break, we seem to get better. Maybe it’s the fact we know the Cup can be ours tonight. Or maybe it’s that we’re just playing better.
Four to nothing entering the third period seems ridiculous for a Cup final but that’s what we are. The crowd is going wild but we’re keeping our heads, not letting any of the hype affect our game.
We’ve played fantastic all season. From the first game to the last one. But tonight? We’re on a different level.
