Team spirit surged in me. Purple, black, and white ran through my veins.
Gauthier held his index finger up, and we quietened once more. “We've got one shot. Every goal, every win to this point is history. They all got us here, but we’re not done yet. Tonight, right now, is all that matters.Us, thisfamily, is what matters.”
He gestured to the entire team gathered around and directed, “We play for one another.” As he spoke, his voice rose with each word until he was shouting. “We play hard. We play with heart. Wewin.”
We hollered, standing up and crowding him, all of us embracing. I bumped my bucket against Rune’s cage and fist-bumped Hux, then Minns.
Gauthier roared, a deafening call that set fire to those banked embers smoldering low in my belly, “We hoist that Cup.”
The responding shouts and whistles in the locker room were more deafening than the ones in the stands during a must-win game.
I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, focusing my mind on the goal.
On the Cup.
The trip through the tunnel passed in a blur. We burst onto the pristine ice like men possessed. The crowd went wild, but it was white noise in my brain. I was manifesting the win, the game unfolding in my mind’s eye. We had this.
The red center line divided the two halves. On one side, the Boomtown started filing out, moving into their stretches and some skating slow laps to warm up. The crowd roared louder, the vibrations from their cheers shaking the barn.
I sized Colorado up. I knew a few guys on the team. They were good.
We were better.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, breathing deep. The ozone scent of the ice machines, the smell of popcorn and hotdogs, the cutting of blades, the bright lights, and the taste of dreams that were right there within our grasp filled me.
We had this.
We were ready.Iwas ready. I dropped down and stretched, shaking out the last of my tight muscles. I looked to the stands. Keeley, Hannah, Spencer, Keeley's mom Jen, Spencer's parents, Brian and Lorraine, my mom, brother, Noah, and even my dad were all in the crowd—the most important people in my life were here supporting me. It was the same for my teammates—their loved ones were here or watching on television and showering us with their encouragement and support.
My gaze caught on the Boomtown’s team mascot, Dusty Kaboom, a caricature of an old-time miner. He was hamming it up with the Black, orange, and yellow clad fans in the stands and somehow managed to do a backflip down the stairs and land on his feet. Colorado fans loved their mascot, but like him, they’d all be disappointed tonight.
It was time to give our fans what they’d come to see—San Diego making history. The Seals winning the Cup.
***
The final buzzer sounded. I dropped my stick, tossed off my gloves, and raised my fists in the air. I bellowed and skated toward my teammates converging on the spot where Rune had just won us the game, deflecting a shot on goal that would have evened the score and sent us into overtime.
We’d done it.
We’d won the Stanley Cup.
Jubilation filled me, my heart beating hard and excitement pulsing through my veins. Pride washed over me. We’d actually done it. Every decision I’d made, every argument I’d had, was worth it. I was vindicated. I’d just proven to myself and my family that I was never meant to be a football player. No matter how much my parents wanted that for my future, it was their dream, not mine. I’d reached the peak of my sport. I’d summited it and was now standing at the top, victorious. My brothers were here with me. My family was watching.
The Boomtown were an established team with decades of experience. They hadn’t seen a Stanley Cup Final for over twenty years. But they’d come close. We were the underdogs. We’d been the new team on the block who’d come out fighting from that very first game. I hadn’t been here from the start, but that didn’t matter to these boys. We were a family, and just like Gauthier had said in his speech, I would remember this moment and the faces I shared it with until the day I died. The Seals may not have had a long tradition or decades-long experience, but our scrappy team had just pulled off a coup.
“Y’all did it,” I shouted to Rune and jumped on him, wrapping myself around him like a koala. I kissed his cage and laughed as he spun me around and then playfully shoved me off him. We lost the buckets, and he squeezed my nape.
“That was fuckin’ magic,” he praised. “Your offense was incredible.”
“Same to you, brother.” I wrapped him in a hug again and tapped his pads. “You just won us the Cup.”
He shook his head and blushed. “Nah, we all won it.”
He was modest, but without that save, we’d still be battling it out. Who knew which way it could have gone? The Boom’s center was lethal—focused and sharp. His teammates orbited around him, following his lead.
“Hell yeah, we won!” Gauthier shouted, joining us in a group hug.
Triumph ran through our veins. Our adrenaline had peaked, replaced with the warm glow of success.
