For the first round of the Division 1 playoff tournament, we were going up against the Cactus Blossoms who we had not seen since our piss-poor performance in Vegas back in November. Luckily for us, we were faring a whole lot better this time, and a lot of it had to do with the Blossoms’ number one goaltender, Scott Buchanan, getting injured ten minutes into game one. He ended up having to be carried off the ice on a stretcher and was unlikely to return.

Without Buchanan’s playing, we were able to pretty much wipe up the floor with the Blossoms during the first three games of the series. Now all we had to do was win one more and we would advance to the next round, but the Blossoms were hanging on tooth and nail. They seemed hell-bent on not making this an easy clean sweep.

At the end of the disastrous second period, we headed back to the changing rooms for final intermission feeling shaken and spent. We were all reeling from our three-point deficit and it didn’t look as though we could possibly come back from this one.

“At least we still have three more chances,” Onti said, trying to keep our spirits up.

Before anyone had the chance to agree with him, McAvoy slipped his head into the room. He was frowning and his frown only deepened upon seeing our dejected faces.

“You guys don’t look like a playoff worthy team,” he said, stepping fully into the room. “You look like a bunch of sad sacks.” He locked eyes briefly with each one of us. “Jose is right. You do have three more chances after this game, but what you all seem to be forgetting is that you still have a chance right now. The game isn’t over. Far from it. You’ve still got twenty minutes of ice time. I’ve seen you all rally before. You can do it again. Remember what Hawthorne told you. Fight every game like it’s do or die. It’s only gonna get harder from here. You can either go out there and nip this series in the bud right now, or you can hold off for next time when they have home ice advantage and a renewed sense of hope. It’s up to you, kiddos. You’ve got five more minutes left to decide.”

McAvoy left and we all stared after him in disbelief. Our cheery assistant coach had just laid down a slice of reality on us. McAvoy was one of the most upbeat people I knew. If he believed we could still win this, I didn’t want to be the one to let him down.

We went out onto the ice for the third period with renewed vigor. We were all fighting to be the first one to make it onto the board. We knew from experience that one goal was all it would take to break the spell and open up the floodgates. It was actually Phony who ended up making it happen. He slammed one in from center at four minutes shocking everyone, including himself. The crowd was chanting “Holden” at the top of their lungs.

Ten minutes later, we came into another stroke of good luck. Markov, the same guy who’d scored two of the Blossoms’ three goals, got stuck in the box for boarding. This was going to be our first power play opportunity of the game.

I was out with Shawser, Sal, Fish, and Mills and we were in full-blown attack mode. We were passing the puck around with deadly accuracy, refusing to give the defending Blossoms even an inch of wiggle room. Sal made the first shot on goal and it bounced off of the goaltender’s blocker. I made the next one, but he snatched it out of thin air, initiating a faceoff. The third was made by Shawser with thirty-three seconds left on the man advantage. It bounced off of the crossbar and went in topside. The goal horn sounded and an angry Markov came storming back onto the ice. We made quick work of our cellphones, and switched out for fresh troops. The game was within one point now. We were so close we could taste it.

As the clock wound down on the third period, my heart started beating faster and faster. I knew that we needed to get one in, but there were guys all over me. We needed some kind of advantage on these hungry Cactus Blossoms in order to edge them out.

That advantage came in the form of a sixth attacker when Monster left the ice with just one minute and seventeen seconds remaining on the clock. Phony came out and joined me and my linemates as well as Matty and Spence at center ice. Together we were just able to push forward into the Blossoms’ zone without leaving the empty net behind us exposed. I had the puck on my stick and was being chased into the boards by a Blossoms’ defenseman. I needed to pass the puck before I was pinned, otherwise my teammates would leave their marks to help bail me out, and if they left their marks to help me out and we still ended up losing the puck, that was four guys who could potentially take the puck down to our empty net unopposed.

I faked left toward Phony and sent it even farther up ice toward Spence instead. Then I lost sight of everything as my body was smashed into the boards.

I got to my feet slowly. There was ringing in my ears, but my head didn’t hurt and all of my limbs were still functioning. As I was scanning the ice for my dropped stick I heard gasps and then a booming collective cheer from the audience.

When I turned around to see what had happened, Sal was standing in front of the lit-up goal with his arms raised and a brilliant smile on his face. I tore my gaze away from him and looked up at the game clock. There were only forty-five seconds left and Sal had just tied things up. Or so we thought.

Only a few seconds into our celebrating, one of the linesmen skated out onto center ice and cleared his throat.

“The play is under review for goaltender interference.”

I frowned. I hadn’t seen the goal, so I had no idea whether it was a fair claim or not. That hardly mattered though. Every hockey fan knew that the rules went completely out the window when it came to goaltender interference calls. It was basically just whatever the refs were feeling at the moment.

All of the skaters on the ice retreated to their respective benches and waited for the officials to deliberate.             

“What do you think Coach?” Sal asked, chewing his lip.

Hawthorne put down his clipboard and shrugged.

“It looked like a good goal to me.”

Several minutes passed and we started to get anxious. All of the resting was making us feel tired. It was easy to ignore the strain in your muscles when you were constantly moving and/or paying attention to the game. Now? Not so much.

Finally one of our equipment managers came over and handed Coach Hawthorne his phone. On it was the school’s website which was live streaming the game. He had the stream backed up to the exact moment of Sal’s goal. We all crowded around to see.

The camera panned away from me on the ground and settled on Spence as he took the puck, skated in behind the net, and then sent it off the boards to Sal who was stationed a few feet in front of the net. A big Blossoms’ D-man was positioned directly front of him, blocking his path, but Sal didn’t retreat. Instead, he faked like he was going to shoot the puck back toward Matty and then used his small frame to slide under the Blossoms’ defender and into the net.

Coach was right. It looked pretty clean. Yes, Sal had made bodily contact with the goaltender, but only once the puck and his stick had already crossed the goal line. If there was any justice in the world, the refs would give us this one. I honestly wasn’t too sure what was taking them so long.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of waiting, the heftiest linesman ditched his headphones and came out onto the ice.

“The ruling on the ice is confirmed. We have a good goal.”

The crowd erupted. There were whoops and cheers and the beginnings of a chant that was basically telling the Cactus Blossoms’ goaltender to fuck off. As one, we looked over at Coach Hawthorne to see who he wanted out on the ice for the last forty-five seconds. He ended up going with Farmer’s line. Vinny got the puck off the faceoff and sent it back to Stole who skated up ice and held onto it until the time ran out.

Now we were going to overtime. The rules for overtime in collegiate hockey were kind of all over the place depending on who you were playing and when, but today we would be allowed five minutes of five-on-five overtime and if neither team scored within that allotted time, the winner of the game would be determined by shootout.

Hawthorne gathered us around and busted out the whiteboard while we were waiting for the crew to finish cleaning and flushing the ice. He drew out a couple of plays and reminded us of the importance of winning faceoffs and staying on the offensive. Before we knew it, it was time for play to resume.

We started out with our first line up against theirs. We managed to keep the puck for the first two minutes, but there was such good coverage in front of the Blossoms’ net that we didn’t really have anywhere to go. We switched places with Onti’s line and they didn’t fare much better. There was one tiny slip up by Ranger that allowed the Blossoms to get a shot on goal, but Monster blocked it and sent it back onto Sandman’s stick no problem.

When the opportunity for another change came, Coach put me, Sal, and Shawser back out and let the two defensemen stay on. In the last minute, I tried my damnedest to get something going in the offensive zone, but it didn’t work and we ended overtime still tied. I glanced over at Monster. He was guzzling water from his squeeze bottle, seemingly unconcerned.

The first person up for the shootout was Markov for the Blossoms. I held my breath as he skated in on Monster’s crease. He stopped and shot when he was still about two feet away. Monster sprawled out and dove for the puck, but despite his best efforts it still ended up in the back of the net. Next up it was Sal’s turn. He played it real cool, lazily carrying the puck up ice and then batting it in with the blade of his stick. His shot made it in as well.

The Blossoms’ second shooter was a guy named Hamilton who had scored their first goal of the game. He ended up fanning on his shot and missing the net entirely. Then Shawser came out with laser-focus and shot an absolute rocket into the top shelf glove side.

Larkin, the Blossoms’ third shooter, made it in on his shot, but that hardly mattered. If I made mine, it would be best of three and we would take the win. I took my time at center ice, staring down the nervous Blossoms’ goaltender. I had never bothered to learn the guy’s name, and I kind of felt bad about that now. If he stuck around long enough for the customary high fives after we won, maybe I’d ask him.

I sucked in a huge breath, visualized my path up the ice, and then started skating with all of my might. I could actually see the goaltender’s eyes widen as I came at him with ungodly speed. He was so surprised that he opened up his five hole just a smidge. I took full advantage of that momentary lapse and sent the puck between his legs and into the back of the net.

The buzzer sounded and the announcer proudly proclaimed our win. The crowd was screaming and on their feet. I barely even had time to register what was happening before my teammates were rushing onto the ice and piling me into a group hug. I laughed and smiled, returning their enthusiastic pats with ones of my own. The Blossoms ended up leaving the ice without congratulating us, which was understandable with how close the game was. I’d be mad too if I was in their position.

I could hear the crowd chanting my name, which I thought was kind of unfair considering I hadn’t actually won us the game, just scored the game winner. I know it sounds like the same thing, but it totally wasn’t. This win was a group effort. One hundred and ten percent.

That didn’t stop the guys from banding together to lift me over their heads.

“Hey, watch my blades!” I shouted down at them, worried that someone would accidentally hurt themselves, but they were too busy laughing and cheering me on.

From my elevated perch, I had a really great view of the stands. I could see just about every face in this almost-packed house. That was the benefit of playing in an arena that was more ice than seating. Way up in the back row I could even see Steve and Shannon. It was a surprise since neither of them had told me they were coming, but I still smiled up at them and waved. Then I saw who was standing next to them and my heart dropped out of my chest.

Mark was staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest and his usually kind eyes narrowed in betrayal. We locked eyes for a moment and it was like the world stopped spinning. I wanted to mouth something at him, an apology or an explanation, but Mark didn’t give me the chance. Before my eyes, my boyfriend and the absolute love of my life shook his head and turned away, following the tide of students exiting the building.