Page 110 of Goalie Interference

Ander

Pressure. I love pressure. I thrive under pressure. And proving people wrong. Tonight, against the Edmonton Drillers, I’ve been experiencing both all night.

Both teams need a win tonight if we want to make it to the playoffs. If I’d have been playing better earlier in the season, in the days before Nikolai, we wouldn’t be in this position. Our playoff berth would have been secured ages ago like the Mules.

But it’s fine. I’m not the only member of the Blizzards who excels under adversity. Hell, the first time we won the cup two years ago we started the playoffs in the same position. We can do it again. Assuming we win tonight, which it looks like we will. The score is currently two to one. Connor has been on fire tonight. He scored both of our goals.

“Keep holding on,” he says to me as he skates by to set up for the next faceoff.

Edmonton is getting desperate. There’s only two minutes left. But one is all it takes to fuck up everything.

And of course, as soon as that puck drops, the Drillers pull their goalie. In my peripheral vision I see him skating as hard as he can towards Edmonton’s bench and as soon as he’s over the boards, their extra attacker hits the ice. Six on five. Here we go.

I steady myself and take a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the puck as it gets flung around. Tracking it is always hard, but I have good eyes that see everything and a brain that allows me to slow the game down when I solely focus on the puck and where it goes.

Edmonton’s veteran defenseman, an angry fucker named Noah Garland, claps the puck towards me from the blue line. Quick as lightning, I flash my glove and catch it out of thin air.

The ref blows his whistle to signal stop of play.

“I gotta ask,” Noah says as he circles my net, “what’s in the water in Buffalo?”

Gavin, who’s nearby catching his breath, rises to his full height and skates over. He pushes Noah. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Easy,” Connor says, coming over and getting between them. “Let’s just get through this game.”

Gavin glares at Noah. “You got lucky.”

“You used to be fun,” Noah says to Gavin. He then turns his attention to Connor and smirks at him. “You really fucked the bite out of him, huh?”

“Hey!” I protest at the exact moment Connor drops his gloves and takes a swing at him. He clocks Noah right on the chin.

Noah is caught off guard and stumbles backward.

All of the refs start blowing their whistles as they come over and push all of us away from each other before a full-on brawl breaks out.

One of the refs is checking on Noah. He pushes him away. “I’m fine,” he says. “Kennedy may as well have hit me with a pillow.”

“Yeah, that fat fucking lip says otherwise, asshole,” Connor says, as he’s led even farther away by one of the refs.

“I should be giving you both game misconducts,” another ref says.

“Fuck that!” we all protest. “Let us play!”

“Fine!” the last ref says. He points at Noah. “But only because you were instigating.” He turns his attention to all of us on the ice. “If any of you pulls any more shit, everyone involved is getting tossed. Got it?”

“They’ve got it,” Gavin says, before he goes and retrieves Connor from the ref who’s keeping him off to the side. When he reaches him, I hear him tell Connor, “Nice shot.”

“Thanks,” Connor says. “But my hand is killing me. How do you do this every night?”

Gavin lets out a laugh that is full of affection. “I’ve been punching things harder than Garland’s face my whole life. Give yourself a few more years and you won’t feel it anymore either.”

Connor pats Gavin on the shoulder. “I think I’ll leave that to you, big guy.”

“Smart move,” I say to him. “Now go win this faceoff so we can rest up for the playoffs.”

“No problem,” Connor says, then does exactly that.

With control of the puck, Connor dekes around Edmonton’s defenders. He passes the puck to Tavish, and Gavin clears a lane for him so he’s free to skate towards the other end. Tavish taps it into the empty net. Final score three to one, Blizzards win.