Page 126 of Best Man
“Let’s take a look at the replay while Nikolaev receives some medical treatment,”the announcer said.
The hospital room grew tense and quiet as the family watched the slow motion replay.
The replay started with Volkov stealing the Devils’ pass. As soon as Volkov intercepted the puck, Sasha descended on him in a hurry to prevent Volkov from shooting at the empty net. Volkov quickly flipped the puck down the ice, then braced for impact, just as Sasha threw his weight into him and crunched him against the glass. After the hit, Sasha started to skate away. So far, the play didn’t make sense—how did Sasha end up getting hurt from a hithethrew?!
Then she saw it.
In a fit of anger—maybe because of the hit, maybe because he missed his shot—Volkov sneaked up behind Sasha and retaliated, swinging his stick between Sasha’s legs and clobbering himrightin the groin. Sasha dropped his stick and gloves and began rolling on the ice, his hands between his legs.
The announcers, having seen the replay, began to chuckle. The fans at the game let out a breath of relief, too.
“I believe they call that move the cup check,”the color analyst said, holding back a laugh.
“Not to take anything away from the pain Nikolaev is going through right now, folks,”the play-by-play guy said.“But right now, the fans here in Dallas are thanking their lucky stars this wasn’t a serious injury. Give him a minute or two and he should be good to go again.”
“Interesting to note, Volkov and Nikolaev are not only fellow countrymen, they’re friends, too,”the color guy said.“Last summer, both players represented Team Russia in the World Championship, where they won gold.”
“They might not be friends anymore after that!”the play-by-play guy joked.
With the trainer’s help, Sasha managed to slowly climb to his skates. He glided back to the bench, hunched over.
“ThankGod,” Paulina said, kissing Yana on the cheek, which was as soft as a peach. “Daddy’s going to be fine.”
“And Volkov is going to the box for slashing!”the announcer said suddenly. The camera cut again, showing the referees escorting Volkov to the penalty box. Volkov, furious, yelled and smashed his stick on the ice.“Volkov doesn’t like it, he’s saying Nikolaev flopped—”
“A flop? C’mon! He nailed Niko right between the legs!”
“—yes he did, and that’s why he won’t be able to change the referee’s mind! And the Devils will have a two-minute powerplay to end the game!”
The crowd got up on their feet, swinging towels above their heads.
“One thing you can say for sure,” Piper said, “this is going to be an exciting end to the game.”
Thoughstressfulmight have been a better word.
Philadelphia was on life support, completely helpless as the Devils moved the puck around their zone and took shots from all over the ice. The tying goal felt inevitable now, and yet—
Ping!
CLANG!
Clunk!
Paulina had never seen one team hit the postsomany times in a row. Sasha, Dane, Hathaway, Reavo—theyallrang shots off the post and crossbar in those final two minutes. The anxiety was building—in her hospital room, in the arena, on the disbelieving Devils faces after every narrow miss.
All those posts hit in the first minute came back to haunt them—the Devils started to look gun-shy. Instead of shooting, they seemed to pass one too many times, looking for theperfectplay rather than makinganyplay.
Thirty seconds remained. Paulina still believed in her heart that the Devils would win this, but Philadelphia was starting to look like a team who believed they could hold on to their lead.
“Come on, come on!” Piper pleaded.
Twenty seconds left. The crowd was getting antsy …
Ten seconds left. Time was running out.
“DO SOMETHING!” Piper screamed.
Five seconds left. Sasha got the puck. The crowd screamed with anxiety as Sasha danced in the corner, trying to shake a defender off his tail—did Sasha not know he had no time left?!
