ONE
REN HO
This game is brutal.I try my best not to glance up at the clock as I drop to the bench and Zenia Talmage takes my place on the ice. Minnesota is playing for keeps tonight. With three minutes left, we’re tied 5-5.
My eyes flicker to the board anyway, because I can’t help myself. The shots attempted are ridiculous. Minnesota is at forty-eight, and we’ve attempted nineteen. On the one hand, that means our score vs. attempt ratio is much better. On the other hand, we can’t make a score we don’t even attempt.
I reach for the water bottle in front of me and take a long drink as I watch the puck in our defensive zone. It’s Marion Arivitis in the net tonight. I glance at Felton Badcock, our other goalie. Coach rotates our goalies somewhat regularly. His thought behind it is that both need to be in top form in case one needs to be out for injury or whatever. So both need ice time.
Generally speaking, I don’t disagree. But as a rule, Felton does better against Minnesota, so I think it’s smarter to put him in when we play them. His style of play is just more effective against theirs than Marion’s.
I don’t point this out. The last time someone pointed out something like this, they ended up doing mad hustle at practice. Which might have seemed cruel at the time, but their agility on the ice next game was incredible. I saw several teammates repeating his ‘punishment’ for questioning Coach.
Zenia raises his stick as he skates our way and Willits Hopland trades out. I take another drink and scooch down the bench, wincing when Zenia gets slammed into the boards right outside our box. The crowd roars its displeasure when there’s no penalty called.
“That should have been boarding!”
“Open your eyes, ref!”
“You’re supposed to be watching the game, ref, not drying your nails.”
I snort. Next to me, Denny Willow chuckles. “Seriously. Where do they come up with this shit?” he asks, his eyes tracking the puck.
Most of the time, I don’t even hear the crowd. I’m too focused on the puck. But that one was right behind the bench and for whatever reason, I tuned in just then.
Minnesota shoots and I’m nearly off my seat as Marion practically tackles the puck. His momentum has him sliding and one of Minnesota’s players falls over him. The whistle blows since the goalie has the puck hidden under his body.
Defense doesn’t switch out as the refs move the game back to puck drop, but the offensive does. I tap sticks with Denny as he climbs the half wall and sets skates on the ice. There’s fifty-one seconds left. Denny is a power forward and a super strong puck handler, so we typically try to get him back on the ice toward the end when we’re tied, or the game is close.
“We’re going strong in OT,” Coach Shively says behind us.
I press my lips together. That’s a mistake. All you have to do is look at the shot attempts to see that we need a defenseman to protect the net.
No one argues as we watch the fast back and forth of the puck. In those fifty-one seconds, Minnesota manages two more attempts. Then the end of regulation is called, and our team returns to the bench. Glancing up at the clock, I see five minutes.
“Willow, Ukiah, Jordan,” Coach says. “You’re up.”
The two defensemen and one wingman step into the box as Dasan Ukiah climbs out. Denny meets my eyes and I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.
No one says anything in argument. We all take our seats, catching our breath and hydrating. I glance up at the luxury boxes. Though I can’t actually see anyone from here, I know that the new owner is almost always in attendance when we have home games. I wonder how much he knows about hockey.
Honestly, I love the new colors. The logo is a little… strange—snowy trees and a swooshing puck—but I like the mellow blue. It’s not all that common for a team to get a makeover when they’re staying put. If we’d moved cities, that would be understandable. To date, I haven’t heard an explanation for why he changed the team name.
We have a year under our belt with Edries Franklin owning the team. It’s been interesting since the moment he showed up in our franchise. He immediately changed our name and brand and then his wife filed for divorce soon after. Yep, it’s been wild. I’ve never seen an owner in the headlines as much as Winnipeg’s.
The puck drops and there’s a scuffle trying to get it. At first, Dasan manages to grab it but it catches on his blade and stalls, allowing Minnesota to knock it to their side. There’s a chase and their offense takes it behind the goal and Denny cuts the chaseshort to swing back around in front of their crease, heading toward our end to cut the puck off.
He slings it toward our side and the players on the ice converge. They pick it up and though Jordan is on him, actively pushing for the puck—his stick even connects several times—as they round in front of the goal, Minnesota shoots and fucking gets it in.
The crowd bellows. Since this is a home game, it’s more boos than cheers. I groan and let my head fall back. Fuck.
Zenia sighs as he gets to his feet. “Bullshit,” he mutters as we climb out of the box and head for the locker room.
At least we’re home tonight. I can go home and wallow in my own bedroom.
On my way out, I pause as Felton crosses the ice toward the other team. Dasan stops next to me. More of our teammates slow their progress when they see Felton moving across the ice.
I’m not at all surprised as he gives the scorer a congratulations with a big Felton grin. They talk for a minute and end in a bro hug before Felton turns back toward us. He’s smiling because this man is always smiling.
