We won Game 2 at home when I was basically invisible. Now I need to step up. I feel their glances, quick and concerned, before they look away. Their captain isn’t delivering, and there's nothing they can do about it.
"You good, Mac?" Tuck asks, already in his gear, knee bouncing with pre-game energy.
"Yeah." I lie. "Just focused."
Coach walks through, tapping shoulders, murmuring individual instructions. When he reaches me, he pauses longer than usual.
"Clear head tonight, Logan. Keep it simple."
I nod, but I’m not even sure if I can do that. My phone buzzes—a text from Reese wishing me luck. I should feel comforted but I don’t. I haven't slept more than four solid hours at a time sincemissing that shot. Every time I close my eyes, I see the puck sliding under my stick, hear eighteen thousand people groan in unison.
The buzzer sounds, calling us to the ice. I stand, legs heavy. Kovy bumps my shoulder as he passes.
"We got this."
I lead them out of the tunnel, stick tapping each teammate's pads as they file past me onto the ice. Another superstition. Another thing I can control when everything else feels like it's slipping through my fingers.
The first shift starts well enough. We win the opening face-off, cycle the puck deep. But when I get pinned against the boards, my pass attempt becomes a turnover. I watch, helpless, as the Avalanche transition up ice. The puck ends up behind our goalie twelve seconds later.
1-0.
"Shake it off," Benny says as we skate back to the bench. But it’s in my head even though I know I have to focus on the next play and not the last one. My legs feel disconnected from my body, my hands are a split-second too slow.
My next shift, I misread a pass from Kovy. The puck deflects off my skate and out of the zone, killing our offensive pressure. Back at the bench, Coach's eyes are hard, assessing.
"Keep it simple, Mac," he says, voice carefully neutral. But I hear what he doesn't say: Step the fuck up.
Second period, we're down 2-0 after another Colorado goal I wasn't on the ice for, small comfort. I jump over the boards for a power play, our first real chance to get back in this. The puck finds me at the point. I see Benny open for a one-timer, telegraph the pass, and watch as their penalty killer intercepts it. He's off to the races, just me to beat. I lunge, desperate, hook his midsection as he blows past.
The ref's arm goes up. Penalty shot.
Our goalie somehow makes the save, but my relief is short-lived. I sit in the box, two minutes for hooking, watching as Colorado works the puck around our zone. They score with eight seconds left in my penalty.
3-0.
Back at the bench, Coach doesn't look at me. "Jonesy, take Mac's spot on the power play."
The message couldn't be clearer. I've been demoted mid-game. I stare at the players on the ice in front of me, my face feels hot.
Then the momentum changes. Kovy scores on a wicked wrister from the left circle. Two minutes later, Benny deflects a point shot past their goalie. The bench erupts, but I feel outside my body like I’m watching from the stands.
I keep my shifts short, afraid of making another mistake. The less I'm on the ice, the better our chances. It's a gut-wrenching realization. My teammates battle back while I watch, a passenger on the team I'm supposed to be leading.
Kovy ties it on a breakaway, his second of the night. And with three minutes left in the third, Jonesy puts us ahead on a rebound no one saw coming. Our goalie makes save after impossible save as the Avalanche press for the equalizer. When the final horn sounds, we've won 4-3.Thank god for a hot goalie.
A comeback victory. On the road. The kind that can turn a series.
The locker room explodes in celebration. Guys shout and laugh, tossing water bottles and slapping each other on the backs. Our goalie gets a shower of Gatorade for his forty-save performance. I sit in my stall, still in most of my gear, trying to find the right expression. I should be relieved, grateful, energized. Instead, I sit there like a statue while they celebrate.
Kovy gets the game puck. Benny gives an impromptu speech about resilience and belief. No one will quite meet my eyes—and they look away quickly when they do. They all know I was a liability tonight.
My phone buzzes with notifications. I make the mistake of looking.
"McCoy Benched in Crucial Moments of Game 4."
"Family Drama Taking Toll on Blades Star?"
"Leadership Questions Emerge as Blades Win in Spite of McCoy."
