Page 111 of From Ice to Home
“He’s right,” EJ says. “That kid’s overcommitting. One clean pass and we’ve got a shot.”
Lindgren yanks out his mouthguard and leans forward, shouting down the bench to let Callahan know. It’s a tiny detail, a little shift in strategy. But maybe it’s the opening we need.
I might not be on the ice, but I’m still a part of this.
For a long, agonizing minute, every second drags until my line goes onto the ice. I watch them fight to get into the zone. With an unbelievable interception from EJ, the line moves theother way and like a bolt of lightning the play unfolds. Lindgren picks up the pass with a burst of speed. He darts across the ice, the gap widening behind him. A defender scrambles…but he’s too late. Lindgren sends a clean, crisp pass across to Callahan who’s waiting in the weak side. The puck falls perfectly into the open space. Holding my breath, I watch as Callahan receives the puck, having nothing but open ice in front of him. He lifts the puck onto his stick and fires.
It rips through the air, past the goalie’s glove, and slams into the net.
The arena erupt in a tidal wave of cheers. The horn blares and the song kicks in. We’re ahead and the timing is immaculate.
On the jumbotron the score flips: 4-3.
There are two minutes left.
Every doubt and every ache seems to fade into the background. Even though I’m not out there skating the play, I feel like I’ve scored right along with them.
Coach’s eyes meet mine, his nod is a silent acknowledgement that I still matter. I glance over at the VIP lounge where Hannah is standing, a small, bright smile playing on her lips. My dad’s there too, standing next to her. The expression on his face is mixed with relief and pride. I hope that’s enough to have him come back to watch me play again next season.
For the remaining two minutes, the team plays hard. The Canucks are desperate to score in the last minute, desperate to push into overtime, to get another chance to win. But the Rangers’s defense is rock solid, every player’s will to win a solid wall against which the pressure bounces off.
In the final minute the Vancouver goalie bolts to the bench. The sixth attacker jumps over the boards and barrels toward our zone. Six on five, and the crowd is roaring like a beast. Their cheers are deafening, their towels spinning through the air like tiny white flames.
The Canucks give it everything they have. But no matter how hard they try, how many times they shoot the puck on net, each one of their shots are blocked.
Each and every one of them.
By skates, by sticks, by shins, and the rest? Blocked by Nikolai’s razor sharp reflexes.
The finals seconds bleed off the clock. Three. Two. One.
Then, the final buzzer sounds.
And the world erupts.
The bench empties, helmets and gloves are being tossed in the air. Wild and unrestrained yells fill the air as my teammates rushes past me toward Niko and the pile-on in the crease begins.
We’ve done it.
We’ve won the Stanley Cup.
The lights flash and confetti rains over us like snow. The roar of Madison Square Garden isn’t just loud, it’s thunderous. And even if I wasn’t on the ice for the last shift, the victory of my team is deep inside my bones.
I watch as everyone on the Rangers team embraces each…coaches, staffers, players. I close my eyes for a brief second, letting all the cheers, the pounding adrenaline and the weight of the moment settle over me.
Thank you, Heavenly Father.
EJ rushes toward me, his ice blue eyes lit with excitement.
“Come on, man!” he yells, pulling me off the bench and onto the ice. “You can’t miss this!”
One by one, my teammates pull me into tight hugs, clapping me on the back. Some of them are grinning with joy, others blink back emotions they won’t put into words. Each of them offers something…words of thanks, quiet congratulations, or sincere concern about my injury. I feel it in every handshake, every squeeze to my shoulder. I matter to them. I’m not just another guy in the locker room.
I’m part of something bigger.
They’re my family, my brothers.
Nikolai skates over holding the Cup. The sweat is still dripping from his long hair and confetti is clinging to his gear. His expression is calm…almost too calm for someone who’s just won the Stanley Cup.
