Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Mason
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I walk through the familiar halls of UCONN’s hockey arena. How many games had I played here with Westchester? How many grueling losses and epic wins were tied to this building? Deja vu isn’t sufficient to explain the emotions I am feeling. It feels like I am watching my past, as if someone recorded my memories and is playing them back to me. The bus ride on the way here felt equally disconcerting. Gone were the days when Mikey and I would dick around in the back and plot what local bars we were hitting up after the game. I sat in the front with Coach Jameson discussing arrival and check-in times, UCONN’s roster, and whether we should risk using my lineup for this game. Our practices had gone well enough to warrant testing at least some new plays, but I know things don’t always translate from practice to games, and UCONN is one of our biggest threats.
It is early enough in the season that we can recover from a loss on paper, but hockey isn’t just about the game played on the ice. It’s also about the games that you play in your head. This whole season UCONN has been touted as some unbeatable force, with many journalists declaring every other team should pack it up and call it a season. If we lose tonight, college hockey fans will say that we lost to an elite team, nothing to be ashamed of. But I know what it will do to the psyche of my players. I’ve seen too many of my past teammates get in their heads that certain opponents were unbeatable. It didn’t matter whether those teams actually were better. All that mattered was the confidence you had in yourself to not only play the game but to play it better than the person skating against you. And though Coach didn’t explicitly say it on the bus, I know he and I are on the same page. We need this win.
In a blur we check in, go over plays in the locker room, and leave the players to get dressed and prepped for warm-ups. Somewhere in between all the chaos, Coach Jameson announces that we won’t be changing up the lines for tonight’s game. I try to keep my face stoic as my chest deflates. If he can’t trust me to add a few changes to the roster tonight, how will he ever trust me to fully coach the team? I do my best to push down that thought and focus on the task in front of me. I still have a job to do, whether I agree with Coach’s decisions or not.
The ringing buzzer fills the arena, signaling to the players to head back to their respective locker rooms for one final check-in with the staff before the game begins. I lead the meeting, reminding the team of which UCONN players to look out for and how to identify and isolate their weaknesses. Adam and Jake come together to lead a final chant to hype up the team as Coach Jameson and I head out of the locker room.
“It’s weird how things can be so similar and still so different from when I was on the team. ”
Coach rolls his eyes. “How nostalgic, Hayes.”
“Just trying to make conversation here.” Trying to ignore the fact that I’m about to coach my first game and I still feel like I scammed my way into this position.
“Do I need to give you a pep talk too?”
“No.” Yes.
“C’mon, you’ll do fine. Worst case scenario you just shut up and do what I say.”
He leads me down the hall toward the ice and settles in behind our bench. The perfect view to oversee every angle of the rink in front of us. The familiar chill of being this close to the ice hits my bones and settles me. From across the rink, I can see the UCONN players start to skate out and I send our first line out to follow. The next few minutes are spent announcing the refs and players, and watching a dramatic but albeit well put together montage of UCONN’s best plays and hardest hits this season. When I look down from the video to my players, I see them hyper-fixated on the jumbotron, Adam nervously toying with the bottom of his stick. Shit. Of all the players on the team, I need him locked in the most. The second a captain loses his cool everyone else starts panicking too.
As the starting ceremonies end, I watch as Adam and UCONN’s captain, Luke Anderson, skate up to the center line; their respective linesmen taking their positions as well, awaiting puck drop. I can’t hear what’s being said on the ice but from the bench, I can see Adam’s face tighten up as Anderson starts running his mouth. It’s a cheap tactic to start chirping at your opponent before the game even starts. Cheap and effective having done the same a few times myself. Both players lower their sticks, coming close enough that I wonder if they’re going to brawl it out as soon as the play starts. Stay in it, Adam. Stay in it. A second after the puck drops, Adam scoops it over to our side and sends it to Jake who starts heading down our offensive zone. He gets a small opening and sends the puck flying through the air, but the shot goes wide, rebounding off the glass. UCONN’s goalie snatches the loose puck and stops the play, giving his teammates time to regroup.
The next play starts in UCONN’s zone, but we can’t get control of the puck. Anderson sends it flying down center ice to his alternate captain, who comes barreling down the ice for a breakaway attempt that soon turns into a goal as the puck hits the back of our net. 1-0 UCONN. It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of my players as the entire bench looks down in defeat. We’re an absolute disaster after that. Though we’re only down one goal, with most of the game left to play, the boys are acting as though we’re already beat. We get fresh legs on the ice, keeping to Coach’s original lines, but it’s no use. Miscommunications are happening almost every play, and when our players are on the same page, they forget to keep track of their surroundings. This results in them either getting body checked into next week or having the puck stolen from under them.
We end the first period down 3-0 with little hope for a comeback. As the team shuffles into our locker room, I pull Coach aside for a second.
“We need to try something new. UCONN’s not doing anything special out there, the boys are just too rattled to take possession of the game.”
If he’s upset about my demands, he doesn’t show it. “What do you suggest?”
“I think we try the new lines out.”
His face remains expressionless. “You said it yourself the team is already rattled. You think changing the lines up in the middle of a game is a good idea?”
“We need them to get out of their heads and locked back into the game. Maybe this will force them to think about the new plays and less about who we’re playing.” This could also be the final nail in the coffin for this game, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Agreed. Let’s regroup in the locker room.”
Shit. I guess we’re doing this. Coach barrels into the room and starts yelling about getting their heads out of their asses and how they can decide now whether they want to forfeit the game and put us all out of our misery, or if they’re going to try to play hockey. Having been on the receiving end of many of Coach Jameson’s “Get your shit together” speeches, I take a moment to appreciate that for once, it wasn’t being directed at me. Although if my plan fails, I’m sure I will get my own version of this ‘pep talk’ soon after.
While he takes some time to cool down, I announce that we’re going to try out the new line arrangements in the second period. I expect to receive tons of pushback and disgruntled quips, but all 20 pairs of eyes are locked on me, ready to listen. I guess being down three goals will make you desperate enough to try anything. Good. That’s where I need them. Desperate, disappointed, and angry enough to turn this game around. We spend the last ten minutes of the break ensuring everyone is on the same page before making our descent down the hallway and back toward the benches.
Adam takes the lead, and this time instead of his usual linesmen flanking him, Dylan and Tristan follow him on the ice. I see UCONN’s coaches debating for a moment who to send out in response, clearly thrown off. The ref signals them to skate out soon or they’ll risk a delay of game penalty. UCONN’s captain and the rest of the first line trail out. Dylan and Tristian are our strongest, and frankly cockiest, freshmen on the team this year — both rocking matching smirks to back it up. They add a layer of energy and unpredictability to Adam’s game. Importantly, I knew those two would be chomping at the bit to prove themselves and show they deserved more ice time.
UCONN wins the first puck drop of the second period, but the energy and response from my players feel completely different from the first period. Our defense is immediately on top of them, blocking a few goal attempts before sending the puck to Adam. He sets up for a shot that hits the goal post, but Dylan’s right in front of the net and ready for the rebound which he slides between the goalie’s legs. The players on the ice go wild. Dylan’s first goal since he joined the team. Adam grabs the puck from the net and brings it back to the bench for Dylan. A moment he won’t forget, I’m sure.
“Attaboy Dylan, that's the exact type of focus we need out there.” I pat him on the back as he files back onto the bench and a different line of players get ready to head out. Before Jake can fully hop onto the ice, I offer a few words to light a fire under his ass. “You gonna let the rookies have all the fun tonight, Keeley? Looks like I made the right decision bringing Dylan up.”
Jake brushes me off and instead takes his anger out on some of UCONN’s largest defensemen. In a matter of minutes, he shoulder-checks someone on center ice, steals the puck, and hits a few other players as he rushes up to the goal. He can’t get a good enough angle to take a shot, so he passes it over to his linesman, who aims for the top right corner of the net, but the goalie has it spotted. It’s not until the last five minutes of the second period that Jake’s antics finally start to pay off. In a fit of rage, UCONN’s captain slashes Jake right in front of the ref, sending him into the sin bin. We head for a power play.
We lose the first face-off, costing us a solid 30 seconds of the power play – UCONN icing the puck to kill time. It’s a brutal moment watching my players struggle to get control again, but once they do, I can see their focus is unwavering. Unfortunately, the same can be said for every member of the opposing team. I watch as we pass the puck back and forth on the ice hoping to find one small opening with no luck. I let out a small groan of frustration as the timer reaches zero. UCONN’s players are so focused on adding another player back onto the ice that they don’t see Jake has slowly edged himself to the left of the net and slid the puck through. This brings us up to two goals before the end of the second period.
Coach takes the lead as the team huddles together in the locker room.
“I want you boys to listen. Two goals. That’s it. That’s all that separates us from winning. You just scored two in the last period. All we need to do is keep that same momentum going for another twenty minutes. That’s it, that’s all.”
There’s not much more that needs to be said so we leave the locker room and let the boys spend the last few minutes strategizing among themselves.
While our players have done a near 180 from the first period, it seems UCONN’s have as well. Their coach has always had a notorious reputation for dealing out the worst punishments after a loss. It’s clear he gave them a talk to inspire fear, but UCONN is slowly falling apart at the seams. They’re giving up way too many passes and missing too many goals for a team whose leading their division right now. Good. We’re in their heads. I watch as Adam intercepts a pass and starts skating down the ice like a madman. No one’s able to catch up with him and I hold my breath as he lifts his stick and sends the puck soaring in the air. Their goalie dives, and for a moment, I’m convinced the goal’s been blocked until the goalie comes up and reveals an empty glove.
A chorus of loud boos fills the arena as we tie the game, followed by a wave of silence so heavy you can feel the despair from the crowd. From across the ice, UCONN’s coach signals to the ref for a time-out, giving my players a few seconds to cool off. Scanning the bench, everyone looks like they’re on their last legs. Playing against this team was always going to be a battle, and forcing a comeback wasn’t easy.
“Just one more goal boys. One more. Let’s wrap it up here in the third, we don’t need this game going into overtime.”
The ref skates by our bench to let us know we can get back on the ice. No one ever warned me I’d feel more nervous as a coach than as a player. It takes everything in me not to cover my eyes these last five minutes, only peeking through my fingers like that will somehow calm the tension. UCONN drives the puck up the ice toward our zone. In a desperate attempt to cling to their lead, UCONN pulls their goalie out of the game to add an additional man on the ice. My stomach is in knots as I watch them take shot after shot at our goal.
Through sheer force of luck — or maybe I willed it— one of UCONN’s players breaks his stick in half during a pass attempt. Dylan is right there to pick it up as he dashes down the ice, his linemates right behind him for backup. With a few seconds left in the period, Adam screams at him to shoot the puck. With no goalie to stop it, the puck soars right in the center of the net. Our bench erupts into absolute pandemonium. I took a moment to appreciate the scene in front of me, the utter joy on my players’ faces, and the rush of emotions filling me. The feelings of exuberance, pride, and adrenaline that I only thought I could experience as a player, I now felt ten-fold.
It’s only me and Coach Jameson left standing near the stalls as he claps a hand on my shoulder. “Now that …”, he points to Dylan as he celebrates with his teammates on the ice, “…was some pretty solid coaching, Mason.”