Page 123 of Best Man
“Let’s fuckinggo, boys!” Niko yelled at his linemates.
***
The crowd’s roar was deafening when Niko took the ice for the first time tonight, adrenaline pumping in his veins.
Some people scoff at the concept of momentum in sports as if it were some kind of spiritual woo-woo. Not Niko—he knew from firsthand experience how the energy of a rocking building got him all psyched up, and how a dead crowd could lead to uninspired and lazy play. He saw momentum as a powerful force of nature that could turn the tide of a game.
So Niko knew, as the two teams lined up for a defensive zone faceoff, that the Devilsneededto make something happen now, while an ember of hope still smoldered in this arena.
Unfortunately, Philadelphia won the faceoff, which snuffed out a good chunk of that momentum right off the bat. Worse still, the Falcons retained possession of the puck, cycling it and moving it around the Devils’ zone fruitlessly. They weren’t even looking to score, rather only hoping to eat precious minutes off the clock and further demoralize the overworked and exhausted Devils.
Their strategy worked. After a minute spent chasing the puck around their zone, the Devils skaters, already suffering from weak legs, looked like they were skating in molasses. Several thousand fans had tried to remain optimistic through it all, but even their butts soon found their seats again and they grew quiet, too. It was as if you could hear every human in that buildingrealizingthat not even Niko could save them.
With a tired line trapped on the ice, the Falcons smelled blood in the water and started shooting. The Devils were dead, but Vaughn refused to let Philadelphia score another. The goalie made one sparkling save after another, scrambling in his crease to keep the puck out, begging his team for support.
At last, Mikey Vedros put an end to the torture. After another big save by Vaughn, Vedros scooped up the rebound and skated it to safety in the corner. Desperate for a line change, Vedros flipped the puck down the ice. Philadelphia’s defense retreated, looping back into their zone to retrieve the puck, while the exhausted Devils headed to the bench to be replaced by players with fresher legs.
But Niko was the one Devil on the ice who didn’t have tired legs, and that, he knew, could work to their advantage. He took one quick look to see who his closest teammate was—
“DANE! DON’T CHANGE! COME WITH ME!” he yelled, commanding the captain to stay on the ice for the attack.
Niko put his head down and turned on the jets, streaking down the ice with world-class speed. He couldn’t turn his head to see if Dane had actually stayed with him—if he wanted to win this footrace, all his effort and focus were needed to squeeze every ounce of power out of his long, graceful stride. He could only hope Dane had heard him and joined him on the play, or else this effort would be in vain.
Niko blew past the blue line, gaining ground with every stride on the Falcon’s captain, Vladimir Volkov, who was every bit as quick and talented as he was mean and huge.
The Philadelphia bench warned Volkov that Niko was hot on his trail.“MAN ON YOU, VOLKER!”
Volkov took a quick peek over his shoulder, spotted Niko, andohshit!urgently picked up his pace. The crowd anxiously cheered as the two Russians went racing into the corner.
Niko was quicker, but Volkov had a big head start. It was Volkov who got to the puck first, beating Niko by a hair. But just as Volkov reached to collect the puck, Niko lifted the d-man’s stick and snatched the puck away as he sped past.
The crowd roared, jumping to their feet, as they now saw what Niko had seen all along—a dangerous scoring opportunity.
Niko rounded the end boards without slowing, his body leaning at a severe angle, his edges digging deep into the ice, as he carried his speed and momentum behind the net. As he wrapped around and came out the other side of the net, he lifted his head, searching for Dane.
Where are you?!
Then he spotted him—several strides behind the play, the captain skated like a tugboat out there, slow, bent over, huffing for air and clearly out of gas as he struggled to get to the net. But one thing you could say about Dane was that he never gave up, ever. The captain chugged his way to the backdoor, right where Niko wanted him, and with his last gasp of strength, shoved the other Philly defender out of his way. Niko zipped him a quick cross-crease pass, and Dane fell to one knee as he hammered at the puck.
It came off his stick in a hurry and went five-hole—between the goalie’s legs. The Falcon goalie slammed his legs shut as quick as he could, trapping the puck between his pads …
… but the puck had just enough mustard on it to squeak out the other side and trickle over the goal line.
Eighteen thousand fans, seeing the puck in the back of the net, jumped to their feet. The Devils deafening goal horn began to blare, and the crowd began to headbang to their heavy metal goal song.
“Fuck yeah! Nice finish!” Niko said as he helped Dane up to his feet and gave him a hug.
Dane was panting for air. “Great … fucking … hustle …kid!”
The rest of the boys joined the group hug, but the celebration was short, for there was much more work to be done. The group hurried back to the bench for a line change.
“I’m glad you stayed with me,” Niko said, slapping Dane on the ass as they coasted off the ice.
“Dude. I’m glad I did, too,” Dane said, able to breathe a little bit more easily now. “I won’t lie. I almost hopped off anyway—I heard you tell me to stay on, and I was like, ‘Really?Is he serious?’Because Ihad absolutely nothing left in the tank.”
Niko chuckled. “I noticed. Good work, captain.”
“It was all you, bud,” Dane said. “Keep it up.”
