Page 67 of Oh, Puck!
And then Coach Pearson tried to give a speech in the locker room.
I saytriedbecause about thirty seconds into the post-game debrief, the door to the locker room banged open and MackRogers stood in the doorway breathing like he'd sprinted from the boardwalk.
"Colin Holden just dropped ahugetab at Breakers," Mack announced to a room full of half-dressed athletes celebrating our first win in months. "We've got an open bar, boys! For the whole team. So I wouldappreciateit if you ladies finished doing your make-up and got your asses over there before he changes his mind!"
The room emptied in roughly eleven seconds.
Which is how I end up here.
Breakers ispacked.
The old garage doors are flung wide open to the beach, the night air pouring in salty and warm, mixing with the smell of grilled burgers and spilled beer. String lights sway overhead like the whole place is breathing, and every single screen behind the bar is looping the game on repeat.
Mack's got the outdoor screen going too, and there are people spilling onto the sand with cold beers sweating in their hands, half of them in Bears jerseys, watching uswinover and over again as ESPN dissects our game.
I keep catching glimpses of myself winning that face-off, of Beck flying down the wing, of Finn's tip-in detonating the building all over again.
But the part that gets me, the thing I can't stop staring at… is thepeople.
Half the town is here. And every other person is wearing Bears blue.
I've never seen anything like it.
I drop into a stool at the bar next to Mack, who's pouring like a man trying to bankrupt his own customer.
"Where," I ask him, taking the beer he slides me, "have all these peoplebeen?"
Mack grunts as he looks up.
"Beats me. Two years ago I had three regulars and a dog." He wipes down the counter with a rag that's seen better decades, then tosses it over his shoulder. "Now I gotta deal withthis."
He gestures at the wall of bodies two-deep at his bar, the women in Bears jerseys doing shots, and the men trying to recreate Finn's goal in slow motion on the top of a table by the restrooms.
"No shit, kid." Mack squints at me, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through his permanent scowl. "This is the busiest night I've had since that hurricane evacuation in '19. And every single one of 'em is here 'cause of what you boys did tonight."
I don't know what to say to that. So I drink.
Coach Pearson appears at the bar on my other side, tie gone, top button open, looking like a man who survived a war. He surveys the bar, then looks at me with a small shake of his head.
"You see this, Morrison?" He gestures at the room with his beer. "We've had crowds my whole career that didn't feel likethis."
"Where were they all season, Coach?"
"Waiting for a reason." He takes a long pull, eyes scanning the sea of blue and gold. "Hell of a thing. You score one goal in a full house and suddenly an entire town decides it loves you." He shakes his head slowly. "We havefans, son. Actual fans. When did that happen?"
"Couple weeks ago, apparently."
"Don't get used to it. They'll turn on you the second you stink it up." He slaps my arm and grins into his beer. "Good game tonight.Realgood. You looked like you actually wanted to be out there."
I did. That's the odd thing.
After months of treating every Gameday like a chore, every pratice like another box to check, something had shifted tonight.
I'd actually felt that old fire, the one I thought I'd left somewhere along the way, along with the version of me who gave a damn.
Coach must read something in my face, because his grin fades into something more serious. He sets his beer down and turns on his stool, elbow propped up on the bar.
"You know what's at stake here, right?" he says, watching me. "We don't make a good go of this season, this franchise is done. Gone. The NHL pulls the plug, sells the assets, and every one of these boys is scattered to whatever team will take them." He nudges my leg under the bar with his foot. "And that means splitting you up from your brothers too."
