Chapter Thirty
Ottawa hated Halifax before the puck dropped.
Matvei could feel it during warmups.
The hatred had accumulated over years of divisional games, playoff eliminations, disputed hits and enough fights to fill the promotional videos both teams played whenever the other arrived.
It did not matter that several players responsible for the oldest incidents had retired.
Rivalries survived the people who created them.
New players inherited the anger as easily as jersey numbers.
Halifax fans hated Ottawa because Ottawa had ended two promising Convoy seasons.
Ottawa hated Halifax because Viktor as a rookie had once scored in overtime to eliminate them and celebrated directly in front of their bench after an Ottawa player slashed him behind the play.
Viktor insisted the location had been accidental.
Nobody believed him.
The Eastern Conference final gave both cities permission to remember everything at once.
Game 1 began with three hits before either team recorded a shot.
McCrae finished the first one along the boards. Ottawa answered near the Halifax bench. Joona took the third and immediately turned to complain to the official despite remaining upright.
Matvei watched from his crease while the officials gathered near center ice and warned both benches.
The warning changed nothing.
Ottawa attacked through contact. Halifax answered with speed. Every puck near the boards became an excuse for someone to arrive harder than necessary. Players shoved after whistles and remained close enough to continue conversations officials repeatedly tried to end.
The crowd inside Atlantic Centre stood through most of the opening ten minutes.
Matvei preferred the noise.
It narrowed everything.
He did not think about the conference final, the Cup or how many wins remained.
He did not think about his hip, though the joint still required treatment after games and felt tighter in the mornings than he admitted publicly.
He did not think about Tessa sitting above him with her laptop open and a notebook beside it.
He saw the puck.
Ottawa scored first.
A shot from the point struck a body in front and fell behind the traffic. Matvei found it too late, moving left while the puck traveled right.
The Ottawa forward near the post lifted both arms.
The arena became quiet for one second before responding with anger.
Matvei took the puck from the net and sent it toward the official.
Next.
Halifax tied the game before intermission. Joona drew two defenders toward the right circle and passed through them toward Viktor near the far post. Viktor could have shot. Instead, he touched the puck back toward Carver in the middle.
Carver scored.
The celebration ended with Ottawa pushing Joona into the glass after the whistle. McCrae arrived immediately. Gloves struck chests. Officials separated everyone before the confrontation became more.
The second period remained scoreless.
Matvei stopped a breakaway halfway through it, holding his ground while Ottawa’s winger tried to wait him into opening space. The shot struck the outside of his pad and moved toward the corner.
At the other end, Halifax hit the post twice.
The third period brought another Ottawa goal, this one on a power play after McCrae received a penalty for cross-checking. McDonough screamed from the bench until the official threatened another penalty.
Halifax tied it with less than four minutes left.
Viktor won an offensive-zone faceoff. The puck moved toward the point, then through traffic. Joona changed its direction beneath the goaltender’s blocker.
The game entered overtime.
Matvei stopped six shots.
Halifax generated three.
The fourth ended it.
Carver forced a turnover near the Ottawa blue line and moved the puck toward Joona. Ottawa expected the shot. Joona passed across the slot instead.
Viktor arrived late.
The captain released before the goaltender reached the opposite post.
The puck entered high beneath the crossbar.
Atlantic Centre erupted.
Viktor did not celebrate in front of Ottawa’s bench this time.
He turned toward the glass and raised both arms while teammates reached him. Joona jumped against his back. Carver disappeared beneath the group.
Matvei skated toward them from the opposite end.
One win.
He allowed himself to think the number only after reaching the pile.
The series consumed everything quickly.
Tessa waited inside the dressing room after Game 1, recorder in hand, asking questions with the calm focus Matvei had learned to recognize as work rather than distance.
She spoke to Viktor first.
Everyone did.
The winning goal, the history with Ottawa and the symbolism of the captain returning from injury to score in consecutive elimination games created an obvious story. Matvei watched her listen while Viktor described the play.
Tessa’s hair had started falling loose near one ear. She pushed it back while writing.
She looked tired.
Matvei knew he did too.
They had seen each other only briefly after the Boston series. One night at his house, most of it spent asleep. The schedule had permitted no elaborate dinners, movies or quiet hours in the kitchen. Hockey expanded until everything else fit into the small spaces around it.
Tessa reached him after most of the group had moved away.
“On the overtime penalty kill, Ottawa created two chances from below the goal line,” she said. “What allowed you to stay connected to the post when they tried to move the puck through the crease?”
Matvei explained.
She asked a follow-up.
He answered.
Nothing in the conversation acknowledged the fact that he wanted to reach forward, touch the loose piece of hair near her cheek and ask when she had last eaten.
She clicked off the recorder.
“Thank you.”
Matvei nodded.
Her eyes held his one second longer than necessary.
Then she moved away.
His phone vibrated after he reached home.
Tessa: You were good.
Matvei sat at the kitchen island with a recovery drink and an ice pack against his hip.
Matvei: We win.
Tessa: Both things can be true.
He looked toward the empty stool where she usually worked.
Matvei: You finish?
Tessa: Not yet. Viktor feature.
Matvei: Eat.
The answer arrived several minutes later.
Tessa: I did.
He did not believe her.
He had no way to prove it.
Game 2 came less than forty-eight hours later.
Ottawa played more carefully.
The restraint lasted nine minutes.
A hit from behind sent one of Halifax’s defensemen into the boards. The officials assessed a major penalty after review. Ottawa killed all five minutes, blocking six shots and allowing nothing through the middle.
The successful penalty kill changed the game.
Ottawa scored shortly afterward.
Halifax tied it in the second.
The teams exchanged goals in the third.
Another overtime waited.
The rivalry became less physical as fatigue replaced anger. Players reached with sticks rather than finishing every check. Shifts shortened. Benches shouted changes before the puck crossed center ice.
Matvei stopped a shot through traffic.
The rebound moved toward the left circle.
Viktor cleared it. Halifax transitioned.
Joona carried the puck into Ottawa’s zone with Carver driving toward the net. The defense followed Carver. Joona kept the puck and moved behind the goal line.
The goaltender turned to track him.
Joona banked the puck off the back of his pad.
It crossed the line.
For a second, nobody reacted because the angle looked impossible.
Then Joona raised both arms.
Halifax led the series 2-0.
In the dressing room, Joona explained the goal six different ways, each version making it sound more deliberate.
Matvei listened from his stall.
Viktor eventually told the reporters Joona had been trying to pass.
Joona objected loudly.
Tessa laughed.
The sound reached Matvei through the room.
He looked up.
Her attention remained on Joona, but the laugh softened something inside him anyway.
That night, his message arrived before hers.
Matvei: Lucky.
Tessa: You are never going to give him anything, are you?
Matvei: No.
Tessa: Six wins.
Matvei stared at the number.
Six remained.
Matvei: Too many.
Tessa: Fewer than before.
Ottawa became louder when the series moved west.
Not louder than Atlanta.
Angrier.
Fans arrived holding signs about Viktor, Matvei and several disputed plays from games that had taken place years earlier. One showed Viktor’s face beside the word DUMB-BERG.
Joona took a photograph.
Viktor told him not to encourage anyone.
Game 3 began with Ottawa playing as if a 2-0 deficit could be erased in the opening period.
The first shot came twelve seconds after the faceoff.
Matvei stopped it with his chest.
The second struck his blocker.
The third became a goal.
Ottawa created the chance through speed, moving the puck across the offensive zone faster than Halifax’s defenders could rotate. Matvei pushed toward the right post and reached it, but the shot found space above his shoulder.
The building shook.
Ottawa scored again seven minutes later.
Halifax appeared overwhelmed.
McDonough used his timeout before the first period reached its midpoint. He spoke to the team without shouting. That frightened players more than anger.
The Convoy settled after that.
Matvei stopped the next eleven shots.
Carver scored late in the period, cutting the deficit in half.
Viktor tied the game in the second on a rebound near the crease.
The third period passed without a goal until less than two minutes remained.
Ottawa turned the puck over in the neutral zone. McCrae collected it and moved it toward Joona. The winger crossed the blue line, cut toward the middle and shot through a defenseman’s legs.
The puck struck the post.
Carver reached the rebound.
Halifax led 3-2.
Ottawa pulled its goaltender.
Matvei stopped two final shots.
The horn sounded beneath a chorus of boos.
Halifax led the series 3-0.
The result looked dominant.
None of the games had been.
Three victories, each decided by one goal. Two required overtime. Game 3 had required Halifax to survive a first period that nearly ended the night before it began.