It hits the metal goalpost and falls perfectly into the goalie’s glove.
It sucks.
It felt good. It looked good.
We were mere inches from being in a comfortable position to finish out the last ninety seconds of the game.
We pull ourselves together, getting our heads back in the game. Jax and Zeke are down by our net, ready for the Wildcats to make their move.
They’ve done a hell of a job protecting Cam when they’re out on the ice tonight, and I think it’s made a difference. The way Jax and Zeke play together is like no other pairing on the ice.
Honestly, our whole team plays in a way I’m not used to seeing with other teams. I think it helps that I’ve been playing with some of these guys since we were kids.
Number thirty-two on the Wildcats has momentum I haven’t seen from this team all night, though. He’s breezing from their end of the ice to ours. When he gets close to our goal, Jax and Zeke are ready for him. What they aren’t prepared for is for him to pass the puck to the player behind him, ninety-seven, and “stop” himself.
As he does, ice sprays into Cam’s face, but the momentum of the stop has him toppling into Cam and the net as the other player shoots the puck toward the net.
There’s a whistle.
Ninety-seven helps thirty-two out of the net and off Cam. I have no idea where the puck is. I also have no idea if they’ll call goalie interference on the play or if he’ll get off on a technicality.
It wouldn’t be the first time this season that a ref made a bad call against our team.
But as Cam straightens up, a wave of relief rushes over me when I notice the puck sitting comfortably in his glove.
The guys and I skate over to him, helping him up to his feet and tapping him on the helmet.
“That was a hell of a save, Bowman.” Declan voices the one thing we’re all thinking.
There are thirty seconds left on the clock, and we’re using our only time out of the game, allowing Cam a minute to collect himself.
“Bowman,” Coach grabs Cam as we come off the ice, “you’re a hell of a goalie, kid. Even if there was a chance that the goal wasn’t going to count because their player was in your space before the puck was shot, you didn’t take that risk. With all of the obstacles in your way, you found that puck.”
“Thanks, Coach.” Cam’s breathing is ragged, but I bet all of our breathing sounds like that right now.
“We’ve got thirty seconds left in this game. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to go into overtime. I want us to come out on top in regulation. Does that sound like a plan?” There’s a universal nod. “Good. Then let's get out there and play some fucking hockey.”
We’re finishing the season the way we started it. Declan, Brooks, Zeke, Jere, Jax, and Cam are on the ice. As much as it sucks beingon the sidelines, it’s nice to know I’ll have the best seat in the house to watch us take down these Wildcats.
Declan prepares for the faceoff; I can see the determination to get possession of this puck in his stance. He wants this. We all do. And we’re going to make it happen.
The puck drops.
Declan steals it without any hesitation, knocking it backward to Brooks as Declan zips down the ice.
They’re trying to keep the other team on their toes, no one holding onto the puck for long, just long enough to make a clean pass, as the clock ticks down.
I stand as our team reaches their net. My eyes don’t leave the puck; they follow it to Jeremy’s stick.
Five… four… three… two—
Jeremy snaps off a quick shot, but like Declan’s previous goal, it hits the metal goalpost. But it flies back off, giving Jere the perfect opportunity for his own rebound.
Catching their goalie off guard, he slaps the puck right back at the goal as the buzzer sounds.
Theswooshinto the net is undeniable.
The team doesn’t need verification; we’re out on the ice, stacking our bodies on top of Cam’s and the rest of our players.
