Page 85 of Hot Damn
We’re in the final minute of game one in the regular season and the excitement in the room is palpable.
I’m up in the visiting owner’s suite of the Miami Steam’s arena, while Nat and Oakley are downstairs waiting to join the team after the end of game horn sounds.
I’ve been taking video all night from the suite while Deb has roamed the arena doing the same. Even Whitney has taken some footage while watching her dad play like the star he is.
Beckett Higgison might be in the older bracket of professional hockey players but he’s no less skilled, no slower or less aggressive than the younger men on the ice.
He’s been instrumental in getting the Rogues the five-two score illuminated on the Jumbotron hanging from the middle of Miami’s arena.
As the seconds tick down, a hush falls over the room and nobody moves. I’m sure no one breathes. I certainly don’t.
My eyes are glued to the ice, waiting with bated breath for that horn to signal the end of the game.
From the corner of my eye, I see Whitney move up against the glass, her head moving back and forth as she follows the puck andthe men chasing it, and for some reason I lift my phone and hit record.
We’re down to a couple of seconds when her hand comes up and covers her mouth and I watch the anticipation and joy explode on her face as the crowd in the arena and the room around me goes wild.
A split second before the end of game horn blasts, the goal buzzer goes off.
Phone still aimed at Whitney, I turn my head to see what all the excitement is about.
As if to prove my thoughts about him true, Beckett has scored another goal.
His third of the game.
Hats fly over the glass onto the ice and I move my phone to take in the scene below.
It doesn’t matter that this isn’t our home ice, our home crowd, hockey fans the country over know how to celebrate a hat trick.
It’s crazy, the pandemonium that follows the end of the first game of the season. Win or lose, it’s the beginning of every team’s run for the Cup.
And the Rogues have kept their undefeated status of pre-season and marched into their first NHL regular season with their heads held high.
I might not have been instrumental in putting the team together, might not be involved in everyday management or training, but a swell of pride rises in my chest anyway and has my eyes watering.
“They did it!” Dad claps a hand on my back and I almost drop my phone.
Juggling it, I hit stop on the video and turn to throw my arms around him. “They did!”
“If this isn’t a poked tongue at the league, I don’t know what is,” Pa says, his voice loud enough to carry over the cheering. “I’mtaking Micky down to the locker room. Anyone else want to head down with us?”
Whitney comes to a bouncing stop beside us. “Me! Yes! Me!” She turns to go but quickly spins back, her eyes meeting mine. “Do you think it would be okay if I videoed everyone waiting for the team?”
“Sure, just make sure they know you’re doing it and okay with being recorded.”
“It’ll only be the players’ families and Rogue staff down there. Oakley said Nat vetoed the press or anyone else,” Pa adds.
“She can do that at another team’s arena?” Whitney asks. “Wow. That’s some serious power.”
“That woman has never let anyone stop her getting what she wants,” Dad says, one arm still around my shoulder. “I’d love to see her as president. She’d kick ass.”
Laughing, I bump his hip with mine. “Don’t give her any ideas.”
“Nat isn’t going anywhere. She finally has what she’s always wanted.” Pa’s words seem innocuous enough but there’s a smile on his face and an underlying hint of something I can’t quite put my finger on. Turning, he hooks his arm through Whitney’s. “See you down there or back at the hotel. I’ll take care of this one until her dad comes out.”
Nodding, I watch them go, collecting others on their way to the door. By the time Pa leaves, he’s got a trail of kids and adults following him.
“Jimmy is in his element here. I haven’t seen him this happy since before Nora died.”
