Page 16 of Playoff
"What happened?" The whole league had been curious. The Blaze had gone to game six of the Stanley Cup Finals, losing in overtime. They kept most of the team intact, so expectations were high. To say the team didn't meet them was an understatement. They had the same skills, the same players, and couldn't find a win with a map and GPS. But they had been playing better the last month or so, even after they lost their top scorer. Last night had been their fourth win in a row.
They didn’t win pretty, but they did win.
"You saw the game last season, right?"
No need to ask which game. I nodded. Of course I'd watched.
"It spooked us. We talked to people after, sports psychologists, but we couldn't get past it till we'd played Minnesota again, Mitch in net. That did it."
"Ballsy move, putting the backup in after what happened."
Cooper smirked. "We're hockey players." Hockey was not a sport for the timid. “We were feeling good till Ducky was injured. I hope you can fill that hole. If we get to the playoffs this year, it’s going to be different.”
He sounded determined. Confident. If anyone could drag his team through, it was this guy. But there was a lot of hockey to be played over the next few months, and no guarantees. “I’ll do the best I can.”
Cooper pulled into the parking area of an arena. The building was black, with red and yellow trim, team colors. I’d played hockey in Toronto before, but always as a visitor. I’d never been to this practice facility, only the one they used for games. As I stepped out of the car, shivering as the cold hit, I gave it a close inspection. I’d spend a lot of time here, unless I was traded again. From the outside, it looked new and roomy. Probably a lot nicer inside than the one in LA.
I followed Cooper to the building. He led the way through a door with a sensor, telling me I'd get a card for both facilities—parking and building access. I'd need a vehicle. My Lambo was still in California, but Toronto in January was not the place for it. Till then, I'd be cabbing.
Inside, the hallways were clean and spacious, and well labeled. It wouldn't take long to find my way around. Cooper stopped at a small conference room where the coach and assistant coach were making notes on a whiteboard. I recognized them from playing against the Blaze in the past. They had a good reputation around the league, so there was that.
“Denny’s here,” Cooper said. The two men looked up, giving Cooper a warm smile and me a polite one.
“Alek Denbrowski, I’m Coach Osgood, and this is Coach Howell. Welcome to the Blaze.”
I held out my hand to shake Osgood’s. “Happy to be here," I lied.
"Have a seat."
I kept my smile and sat in the seat they offered. Cooper waved and left me with the two men.
"We're glad to have you on the team. You’ve heard that Ducky is out for the season. Without him, we’re hurting for offense. None of the new guys have been able to fill that void, and we need points.”
I nodded politely. None of this was news.
“The team had a rough start but we’re still mostly the same team that made it to the finals last season. We make the playoffs, and anything can happen. We’ve brought you in to score goals. We’ll eventually put you on the line with Oppy and Deek, and with your skill set, that should plug the gap."
I nodded again. I’d hoped to be playing on the first line, so I just had to prove myself. As for Oppy and Deek, I’d played against them, knew how they worked. I could adapt, and it would be exciting to be in the playoffs with a team that had a chance.
"I'll be blunt, Denny. You have a reputation. You're a good goal scorer, but a liability on defense. And off the ice, a loose cannon. We’ve heard the stories—the parties, the skydiving, drag racing… We want you to work on your defensive skills. It would make things easier as well if you didn't cause too much drama off the ice."
My back was stiff and my smile rigid. I was sick of being shit on for how I played and lived my life. I hadn’t done those stupid things for years, but the stories lingered. "Teaching an old dog new tricks?"
Coach Howell grinned. "Hoping the old dog will play nice with the other animals on the team."
I almost laughed. Calling the team animals hinted at a sense of humor I hadn't expected. "I'll do my best, sir." It was the only answer possible.
This was the last year of a three-year contract for me. Whatever the Blaze wanted, I had to do. The other option was to retire, but I was pretty sure I’d rather play no matter what they asked me.
"Well, let's get on the ice. Today's skate is optional but a lot of the guys are here. After last season, they're determined to go all the way."
If they played the way they could, and didn't rack up a lot of injuries, they could still make the playoffs and go somewhere. It had been a long time since I'd been on a team with that kind of potential. Maybe this would work. Maybe I'd still be here after the trade deadline, and share the playoff run.
The coaches led me down to the locker room. The facility was new enough that the odor of sweat and dirty feet hadn't completely filled the room. The stalls, even for a practice facility, were roomy and finished in black, with red and yellow trim. In the middle of the floor was the Blaze logo. I knew better than to step on it.
There were at least fifteen guys there, maybe twenty, which was more than ever showed up for our—I meant, LA's—optional skates. The goalies were at the far end of the room, the defense on one side of the U and the forwards on the other.
Conversation petered out as the men caught sight of their coaches and me.
