A shorthanded goal is guaranteed to rejuvenate a team. Our fans went nuts and their roars never stopped thundering through the arena after that.
It was that energy that had us scoring another goal—this time a pass from Kane to Jim for a quick wrist shot—only thirteen seconds into the next active play.
And just like that… in a matter of seconds, we tied the game and put us back on an even playing field.
The last three minutes of the game was a furious back and forth with as many shots being landed on goal in those last moments as the entire seventeen minutes that had previously been played. When there were less than forty seconds left in the game, Bishop once again managed a wicked steal on a sloppy pass. He didn’t sprint down the ice on his own this time. It was him and Dax, taking on a Cold Fury defenseman who valiantly tried to cut off any angles to the goal.
It did no good and Dax flipped the biscuit in right over the goalie’s left shoulder.
In all the Cup playoff games held in this arena, I don’t ever remember the crowd erupting so loudly as with that last goal. It was historic to come back from a two-nothing deficit and win a game in the last four minutes.
Granted, it’s not the way Coach wanted us to win and while we got some praise in the locker room after, we got our asses chewed as he went over the shortcomings that led us to needing to come from behind.
But what really made tonight monumental, and truly gave us that extra drive in the end to pull out a win, is that Baden was here in the arena. Since regaining feeling in his legs and making strides in learning how to walk again, he’s become more confident in himself. Dominik invited him tonight and he accepted a spot in the owner’s box, preferring to not make a big deal out of it and wanting to keep away from fans’ eyes for now. Knowing he was up there watching made it more personal to play our best and, while it took us a while to get going, we pulled it out for him in the end.
It’s a monumental night all the way around and you can’t take away the crackle of energy coursing through all of us, despite having just played one of the most grueling games ever.
Shower complete and my duffle nearly packed, I trade memories with my linemates of the amazing plays made during those last minutes. We’re all about ready to leave, yet no one wants to stop talking about how amazing that comeback was.
“Alright,” Bain says, cutting into the game chatter. “Let’s head over to The Sneaky Saguaro and continue this over some beers and fajitas.”
Riggs stands from the bench, having just finished lacing his shoe, and swings his duffle over his shoulder. “I’m out of here. See you at practice tomorrow.”
That’s Riggs’ way of saying he’s still not interested in hanging out with us after a game. It’s typical. No one holds it against him, and we all bid him goodbye.
Bain looks to Jim. “What do you say, old man? Night on the town with the youngsters?”
Bain snickers like a twelve-year-old, but Jim takes it all in stride. He is one of our older players, but with that comes maturity and a sharp wit honed by years of dealing with smartass teammates. “Think I’ll pass. I have a gorgeous wife waiting at home for me, while you only have your hand, Bain.”
All the guys acknowledge the burn and Bain takes it with good nature. He looks to Kane, but Kane merely shakes his head. “Sorry. Mollie’s not feeling good and I’m going to go home to take care of my girl.”
“You mean discuss wedding flowers,” Bain snarks back at him. “You’re a regular old Martha Stewart these days.”
More laughter, because it’s true, and we love giving him shit over how much he enjoys planning their wedding.
And I’m all that’s left. Bain turns to me, confidence in his expression. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
I give an apologetic grimace. “Looks like it’s just you.”
“No fucking way,” Bain drawls in disappointment. “You cannot bail on me too. You’re my last single ride or die, man.”
“Not tonight,” I reply as I zip up my duffle, ready to head out. I’ve got other plans that don’t involve beers, The Sneaky Saguaro and my buddy Bain.
“Seriously, Jett. What the hell? We always go out after home game wins. And after that stupendous win, how can you say no?”
My mind blanks. I can’t tell him the truth, because Emory wants this uncomplicated and that includes keeping this thing between us.
The guys only know I’ve been trying to score with her, and to their knowledge, I’ve repeatedly failed. I’m sure they saw me playing games with Emory, Jenna, and Felicity at the Fan Day carnival, but that told of nothing other than a friendly get together.