Cap stood and paced in the middle of the locker room, gearing himself up to talk.
“We did not come all this way to back down. We did not bust our asses all season so we could take our foot off the gas now. They wanted to wear us down, but it’s game 7. We wore them down too. There are no guarantees in hockey, and right now, they’re probably feeling like they’ve got us cornered. And if you keep going like we’re going, they do have us cornered.
“But I know, that each and every one of you has more in you. I know every person in this room loves this game. I know every single person in this room would do fucking anything for anyone else in this room. This is the strongest team I’ve ever played on and do you know why that is? We put our shit aside and broughtthe joy back to our game. We started having fun again. We are going to win this game, and do you know why?”
“Why?” Sorrento shouted.
“Because this is our game to win, this is our game to play, and we’re going to do it with a smile on our faces. Hell yeah?”
“Hell yeah!” we responded.
“Fuck yeah?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“Fuckin’ right?”
“Fuckin’ right!”
“Now gear up and let’s go win this thing.”
Cap’s speech had its intended effect. Leroy won the faceoff to open the third period, dropped back, and moved it into L.A.’s zone. Sorrento followed every move, in line with Leroy. When Leroy blasted it across the ice to Sorrento, he was ready with an absolute beauty of a one-timer.
3 to 2. We were clawing back.
But I must have relaxed too much. L.A. won the next faceoff and essentially copied what Leroy and Sorrento had done. Except this one went into the five-hole between my legs.
Fuck.
I’d let them score four fucking goals. I was falling apart. Should I ask to sub with Cordero? The man had three Cup titles under his belt. He, clearly, had what it takes to handle the pressure. I was afraid I didn’t.
I stood and squirted water over my hair and my face. I scrubbed my hand over my eyes and when my vision cleared, I saw Emma behind the glass. She patted the glass, then tapped her temple.
Clear your head.
What needs to happen next?
I needed to get my ass back between the posts and win this fucking game, to give my city a cup, to take what we hadrightfully earned with every drop of sweat, every bruise, every moment that I felt too tired to go on.
I needed to win so I had options, so I had more offers, had a viable chance to make the life I wanted in Ohio.
I winked at Emma before tossing my hair and putting my helmet back on.
I deserved to be here. It was time to play like I did.
Then, I was witness to a miracle.
We caught up.
First, Lindberg and Garner teamed up for one. Then, with an absolutely sickening dangle, Owen got one in tight to Oberbeck’s crease.
We were tied 4-4 with three minutes to go.
Play was tight, a delicate balance of forecheck and not drawing penalties that could result in a power play. Both teams cracked shot after shot, trying to wear Oberbeck and me down.
With about forty-five seconds to go, the miracle happened.
Dylan Sorrento, beautiful man he was, stood in front of the net and deflected a poorly-angled shot by Leroy. Sorrento toppled backward and Leroy crouched down to hug him on the ground.
