Chapter Thirty-One #3
Halifax entered intermission ahead 2-0.
The media workroom transformed into restrained chaos. Reporters updated stories, made calls and attempted not to discuss what two more periods might produce.
Rick stood near Tessa’s desk.
“You have the Joona story ready?”
“As ready as it can be after one period.”
“He might win the playoff MVP tonight.”
The second period became Seattle’s.
Halifax stopped attacking with the same confidence. Players cleared pucks rather than carrying them and changed whenever the opportunity appeared. The caution allowed Seattle to return repeatedly.
Matvei stopped the first nine shots.
Seattle’s tenth entered.
The puck moved from the point toward the left circle, then through the seam before Halifax’s defense could close it. Matvei pushed across and reached the shot.
He did not control the rebound.
Seattle’s forward arrived near the post and lifted it over him.
The lead became 2-1.
The sound left Atlantic Centre so quickly that Tessa heard the Seattle bench celebrating from the press level.
Matvei remained on his knees.
He looked toward the puck, then rose.
One circle around the crease.
Next.
Seattle nearly tied the game four minutes later.
A shot from above the circle changed direction off a Halifax stick. Matvei moved the wrong way, reached back and caught the puck against his side before it crossed the line.
The official signaled no goal immediately.
Seattle requested a review.
The replay appeared on the video board.
Tessa watched the puck disappear beneath Matvei’s arm before the goal line.
No goal.
The building exhaled.
Halifax survived the rest of the period.
The lead remained one.
Twenty minutes separated them from the Cup.
Tessa deleted the thought immediately.
The third period moved slowly and all at once.
Every stoppage became an opportunity for the crowd to stand. Every faceoff carried the potential to change the season. Halifax generated only three shots through the first ten minutes, none dangerous enough to relieve pressure.
Seattle attacked.
Matvei stopped everything.
A shot through a screen with fifteen minutes remaining.
A rebound near the post with twelve.
A one-timer from the circle with eight.
The Convoy blocked others. McCrae threw himself in front of one and limped toward the bench after clearing the zone. Viktor absorbed a hit to move the puck beyond the blue line. Joona chased every loose puck with the same speed he had shown on the first shift.
Five minutes remained.
Halifax led 2-1.
Tessa’s hands had begun to shake.
She typed anyway.
Seattle’s goaltender started glancing toward the bench with two minutes left.
At one-forty-eight, he left.
Six attackers entered the Halifax zone.
The crowd stood.
Tessa stood too, not from fandom but because everyone in the press box had risen to see beyond the people near the glass.
Seattle moved the puck around the perimeter.
Matvei tracked it from his crease.
A point shot struck a body and moved into the corner.
Halifax failed to clear.
One minute remained.
The puck returned to the point.
A shot came through traffic.
Matvei stopped it with his pad.
The rebound moved toward the boards.
Viktor reached it first and sent it down the ice.
The puck missed the empty net.
Icing.
Thirty-seven seconds.
McDonough used the timeout.
Players gathered near the bench.
Matvei skated halfway toward them but remained outside the group, one hand resting on the top of his stick while Pat spoke through the opening in the glass.
Tessa could not hear anything.
Matvei nodded.
The teams returned to the faceoff circle.
Seattle won the draw.
The puck moved behind the net.
A pass emerged toward the slot. A Halifax stick changed its path before the shot came.
The puck left the zone.
Seattle regrouped.
Twenty seconds.
The crowd began counting before the puck crossed center ice.
Nineteen.
Eighteen.
Seattle entered on the left side.
A shot struck Matvei’s chest.
He held it.
The whistle came with six and a half seconds remaining.
Atlantic Centre shook.
Six and a half seconds.
Tessa stared at the clock.
The faceoff would come to Matvei’s right.
Seattle sent six players onto the ice.
Halifax kept Viktor, Carver, McCrae and two defensemen.
Matvei lowered into his stance.
The official held the puck above the dot.
Tessa forgot the laptop.
The puck dropped.
Seattle won the draw cleanly toward the point.
The defenseman shot immediately.
McCrae stepped into the lane.
The puck struck his shin pad and changed direction into the slot.
Matvei dropped toward the first shot.
The deflection moved away from him.
It reached a Seattle defenseman waiting near the opposite circle.
The net opened.
Tessa saw it.
Everyone did.
Matvei was down near the right side of the crease. The puck sat to his left, beyond the distance any controlled push could cover before the shot arrived.
The Seattle player released.
Matvei threw himself across the crease.
Not pushed.
Not slid.
Dove.
His body left the ice, right arm extended behind him and blocker reaching toward the open side as the puck rose.
The shot struck him.
Tessa did not see where.
Matvei landed on his stomach near the opposite post. The puck disappeared beneath him or behind him or inside the net. The goal light remained dark.
The horn sounded.
For one suspended second, nobody moved.
Matvei turned his head toward the goal line.
The official stood behind the net with both arms extended.
No goal.
Then Atlantic Centre exploded.
Tessa saw the Halifax bench empty.
Gloves and sticks flew across the ice. Cole reached Matvei first, diving onto him near the post. Viktor arrived from the faceoff circle. Joona crossed the distance with both arms raised before disappearing into the pile.
The clock showed zero.
Halifax had won the Stanley Cup.
Tessa remained standing.
Her hands covered her mouth before she realized they had moved.
The press box around her broke into motion. Reporters shouted questions toward one another, called editors and reached for laptops. Camera operators pushed closer to the glass.
Tessa sat.
The words waited.
She placed both hands above the keyboard.
For several seconds, nothing came.
Below her, Matvei emerged from the pile.
His mask was gone. His hair stuck damply across his forehead. Cole held the back of his neck. Viktor shouted something into his face.
Matvei looked toward the net.
Then upward.
Toward the press box.
Tessa could not know whether he found her through the glass, lights and movement.
She looked at him anyway.
The teams formed the handshake line. Halifax players embraced Seattle’s one by one, each exchange carrying the exhaustion of a series that had required all seven games.
The immediate celebration continued beneath her, but the formal ceremony had not begun. League employees rolled carpet onto the ice. Photographers gathered near center. The Stanley Cup waited somewhere beyond the tunnel.
Tessa finished her game-story lead and opened the Joona feature.
He had scored twice in Game 7.
He had scored the overtime winner in Game 5.
He led the postseason in goals.
He had assisted on Viktor’s series winner against Boston and carried Halifax’s offense through stretches when more established players could not produce.
In September, Joona had only been trying to make the team.
Now he stood near center ice wearing a championship cap, eyes moving repeatedly toward the tunnel as though he could not believe what was about to appear from it.
The public-address announcer asked the crowd to direct its attention toward the presentation area.
The noise softened without disappearing.
A league official stepped onto the carpet carrying the playoff MVP trophy.
Joona looked toward Viktor.
Viktor smiled before the announcement began.
Tessa stopped typing.
“For his exceptional performance throughout the Stanley Cup playoffs, the recipient of the playoff most valuable player award is Halifax Convoy forward Joona Salonen.”
The arena erupted again.
Joona did not move.
Carver shoved him forward.
Joona looked once toward Matvei.
Matvei nodded.
The rookie skated toward the trophy.
Tessa stared down at the opening of her feature.
The player who had not been guaranteed a stall in September now owned the postseason.
She placed her fingers on the keyboard.
Below her, Joona reached the presentation area.
Beyond him, the tunnel opened.
The Stanley Cup was coming.