That could be said about the sport of hockey itself. Hockey always finds balance, returning to equilibrium. Officials are the peacekeepers, calling the penalties and holding the players accountable. But if they fail, then the players will do it for themselves.
Regardless, the balance finds a way.
Just like it is now.
Another Hawks player slams into Bates, which brings another one of the Sinners over. In seconds, everyone on the ice but the goalies are tied up with another player. But no one drops gloves.
This was a warning to the Hawks, a message to tell them to back off, and if they don’t, then they’ll get to see Bates at his full potential.
It takes a minute, but eventually, they wrangle the penalized players into their penalty boxes, assessing the time they’ll need to serve.
Four of the five players on each team are given two minutes for roughing, but Bates is given a double minor for roughing, given that he started it all.
To be fair, if the officials had seen the original cross-check, none of this would be happening in the first place.
The double minor puts the Hawks on a two-man advantage power play for the next two minutes. Thankfully, our penalty kill is successful, holding them from scoring again during the five-on-four.
The next fourteen minutes do nothing to the score, butthe Hawks seem to pull back on tormenting Ramirez, focusing their effort on trying to win.
It gets a bit chippy when our guys crash the net, jabbing their sticks to try to move the puck, but their goalie successfully covers it.
One minute left.
One of the linesmen grabs the puck and readies the face-off in the zone. We win the draw, Kol beating the other player to the puck.
He passes it back between his legs, straight to Bates, who takes it up top to reset. But Casper swings around to the other wing, wide open.
Without hesitation, Bates dishes the puck—a flawless pass—straight toward Casper. He swings his stick back, and right when the puck glides into place, he follows through. But he doesn’t shoot toward the net; he flings it across the slot to Kol.
The goalie doesn’t expect it, and neither do I. I fall for their play just as hard.
This time, Kol doesn’t pass it; he swings hard, driving his stick into the ice. The puck flies toward the net, straight into the massive gap between their goaltender and the post, created by the quick passing.
The lamp lights, glowing red behind the glass, and the arena explodes. Deafening cheers, applause, and shouts ring out all around us as we stand from our feet in celebration with the rest of the audience.
Bates, Casper, and the rest of the guys barrel around Kol before he leads them to the bench, bumping gloves with the rest of their teammates.
There’s only forty-two seconds left on the clock as theyset up at center ice for the next puck drop. Everyone nervously settles into their seat, practically tasting the win.
But anything can happen in the blink of an eye, and we’re only up one. They could still possibly tie it up.
The Hawks win the draw, maintaining possession as they gain zone entrance with ease, our players hyper-focused on defense. They pass it all around, desperate to find an opening.
Twenty seconds left.
One of the passes goes astray, hitting the board and taking a weird bounce. It ricochets, traveling only a few inches before one of their players gets ahold of it.
I suck in a gasp. Emil picks his pocket, stealing the puck and dishing it over to Bates. Bates controls it, skating it toward the neutral zone as the final seconds count down.
The horn blares, signaling the end of the period and the end of the game.
“Yes! Woo!” Kerrigan shouts next to me, standing to her feet with me and the rest of the crowd as we cry out in victory.
I didn’t realize she was such a hockey fan. I might have to bring her to some more games.
At center ice, Bates flicks the puck up into the hands of the official with the tip of his blade. His smile takes over his face, eyes bright with excitement and pride as he glides over to the bench, closer to me.
The high of the win flickers for a second, reminding me that I’m still mad at him for what he did. But when Bates looks up at me, his gaze locking on to mine, my anger dissipates for a second.
