Page 57 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Deal, it’s a date, but only if

you promise not to run off to

interview the opposing team

right after.

Ziggy:No promises!

:See you in

Montreal, Zig.

Make sure to wave.

I’ll be the one stopping

all the pucks.

As the teams warm up for Game Three, I catch up with Elliot just off the rink, his face set in a mask of determination.

"Elliot, after that incredible performance in Game Two, how are you feeling going into tonight's match?" I ask, keeping my tone light but encouraging. He flashes a quick, confident smile, the kind that always hints at the depth of his focus.

"We're feeling strong and ready, Ziggy. The last game gave us a lot of momentum, and we're just looking to build on that," he responds, his eyes scanning the ice as his teammates continue their drills. "The plan is to keep the pressure high and seize every opportunity. We're not underestimating them, but we're here to win." His words aren't just for the fans; they also feel like a personal reassurance.

During the first intermission, I catch up with Coach Wilder. His eyes light with a strategic fire as we discuss the game plan. “We’ve upped the ante on our offensive plays. It’s all about maintaining pressure and not giving them room to breathe,” he explains, his gaze never wavering from the players returning to the ice. I note his intense focus, the way his words mirror the aggressive gameplay we have seen.

Before he makes it to the ice, I manage to snag a few moments with Ford, the captain, his jersey damp with exertion. “The Saints are tough, but we've got the heart. We’ve studied their tactics extensively. We know where we need to be and when. It’s just a matter of execution now,” he says, his confidence infectious as I see the pride he has in his team.

The atmosphere before Game Four feels different. Maybe it's because I’m interviewing the opposing team last. It doesn't feel right to not see the Red Wolves as they skate onto the ice, but unfortunately that is life.

I approach the opposing team's bench, microphone in hand, ready to delve into their mindset after their recent loss. Montreal’s team captain, a veteran with steely determination in his eyes, doesn't hesitate when I ask about their approach for the night.

“We’ve adjusted our lines and strategies," he states confidently. "This isn’t over by a long shot.”

His tone is resolute, the undercurrent of his words carrying the promise of a fierce comeback. As the game unfolds, his prediction comes true. Despite the Red Wolves' aggressive play, the Saints meticulously execute their new game plan, clinching a narrow 2 to 1 victory. Their disciplined defense and adjustments pay off, extending the series and injecting new life into their fight toward the Cup.

After Montreal’s Game Four narrow victory, I catch up with their head coach, his face full of triumph. As we stand rink-side, he is more than eager to share his thoughts on the win.

"Tonight was a testament to our resilience," he begins, his voice firm and proud. "We knew we had to come out strong,make smart adjustments, and that’s exactly what we did. This win is just the beginning."

His confidence seems to swell as he leans closer to the microphone, a gleam in his eye. "We've found our groove now, and we're just getting started. The Red Wolves have had their run, but we're ready to take this series. They won't know what hit them in the next games." His words are bold, painting a picture of a team revitalized and ready to turn the tide of the series.

From my seat on the team plane back to Arizona, I can feel the apprehension in the air. Game Five is looming, and the stakes can't be higher. Coach Wilder paces the aisle, his voice stern and commanding as he addresses the team. I watch him closely as he moves to the front of the plane, eyes sweeping over the team. Clasping his hands behind his back, he clears his throat, signaling the start of an impassioned speech.

"Listen up, everyone," he begins, his voice carrying through the cabin with unwavering resolve. "I know the last couple of games haven’t gone as we planned. We’ve let them slip through our fingers, and for what? Because we got comfortable? Because we thought a couple of wins meant we could coast through the rest?"

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his gaze piercing each player. "We are the Phoenix Red Wolves, damn it! We need to get our heads out of our asses and play like the champions we are. This isn't just about talent—it's about heart, grit, and the fire to win. We've shown we can dominate on the ice, so what’s stopping us now?"

Shifting his weight, he continues, "We're going back home for Game Five, and I want to see a different team out there. I want to see the team that started this season with a promise to each other—that we’d go all the way. Where's that fire? Where's that commitment?"

He walks down the aisle slowly, making eye contact with each player. "We need to tighten our defense, sharpen our offense, and play every second of that game like it’s our last. No more missed opportunities, no more half-hearted plays. We need to be the predators, not the prey. We dictate the game, we set the pace, and we push harder than ever before."

Stopping, he looks back toward the front of the plane. "I believe in each and every one of you. I believe in this team. But belief isn’t enough—we need to act on it. We need to fight for it. Let’s use this flight back to reset, think about what you bring to that ice, and how you’re going to step up."

As he wraps up his speech, his voice softens but keeps its firm edge. "We have a chance to make history here, to bring that Cup home. Let's make sure we leave everything on the ice, so when we look back, regardless of the outcome, we know we gave it our all. Let's show them who the Red Wolves really are."

Nolan Wilder nods, giving a final look over the team. His goal is probably to fill them with encouragement. He seems to take stock in what he has accomplished. "Get some rest, refocus, and let’s bring the fight to them. We are not done yet. Not by a long shot."

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