ACES WIN STANLEY CUP IN GAME 7 THRILLER
VEGAS — For the second time in franchise history, the Vegas Aces are Stanley Cup champions.
The Aces defeated the Raleigh Icehawks 3-2 in a Game 7 that came down to the final minute, with goaltender Tyler Haskell making 41 saves to earn the Conn Smythe Trophy as playoff MVP.
Red Piper assisted on the game-winning goal, a second-period tally by Mika Korhonen that proved to be the difference. Piper finished the playoffs with 11 goals and 19 assists.
Captain Andre Villishinko lifted the Cup first, then passed it to Piper.
"He earned it," Villishinko said. "Everything he went through this year. The hand. His dad. He never stopped."
Piper's skate with the trophy was brief. He raised it overhead, circled the ice once, and handed it off.
"This is what you dream about," Piper said afterward, champagne dripping from his hair. "This is everything."
But teammates noted that Piper's celebration seemed muted compared to the rest of the locker room.
"Red's always been more reserved," said Murphy. "But tonight felt different. Like he was somewhere else."
When asked about it later, Piper shrugged.
"I'm just tired," he said. "It's been a long year."
June 18, 11:47 PM
Joel: Congratulations.
June 19, 12:34 AM
Red: Thanks.
JUNE
The storm had been building since afternoon.
By nine, the sky over Colorado Springs was a bruise. Purple-black clouds piled against the mountains, lightning forking through them in silence before the thunder caught up. The windows rattled in their frames. The power flickered twice, held, and flickered again.
I sat in the dark with a glass of wine I wasn't drinking and watched Red lift the Stanley Cup for the forty-seventh time.
The footage was everywhere, had been for two days. Red in his white jersey, soaked in champagne, hoisting thirty-five pounds of silver over his head while confetti rained down and twenty thousand people screamed his name. I couldn't stop watching.
On screen, Red's face split into a grin. The Cup caught the arena lights and blazed. Someone grabbed him from behind, andRed laughed, his whole body loose with joy in a way I'd never seen from him. Not with me.
I paused the video and studied the way his eyes crinkled, the gap between his front teeth that only showed when he smiled for real.
Wonton jumped onto the couch and pushed his head against my thigh. His purr was a low rumble, almost lost under the thunder.
"I know," I said. "I'm disgusting."
He didn't argue, just curled into a ball against my leg and closed his eyes.
I'd been training six hours a day since I left New Mexico. My body was a weapon I kept sharpening because I didn't know what else to do with my hands.
On screen, Red was frozen mid-lift. I hit play and watched him win again.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A second buzz. A third.
I picked it up because I had no self-control. Because seven months of silence had taught me nothing except how to miss someone while hating myself for it.
