39. Zach
ZACH
Jack Anderson’s side is everyone else.
Barrett called me into his office yesterday. Just the two of us with the door closed and his whiteboard covered in defensive plays.
“Yes, Coach.”
I sat awkwardly waiting for him to either tell me to leave or continue his expectations but instead he said, “Mackinnon flew to Miami?”
He was looking at his whiteboard his face exactly the same as always.
“Yes sir,” I said. “She did.”
Finally his mouth jerked up in a smile and he shook his head slightly. “Good, at least she got your head straight.” Then he motioned at the door. “Go and hope to God Jack doesn’t find out about it.”
Game 5 we’re back on home ice. The building is loud in a way that only happens when a team is doing something impossible, we’ve given them hope and now they’re leaning into it.
I play. I stop pucks. I communicate with my defense and my defense communicates back.
Rodriguez scores in the first. Brody scores in the second on a redirect he practices constantly in warmups and never hits and tonight it goes in and the building loses its mind.
They get one back in the third and the last eight minutes are a war.
I make saves I don’t remember making—the kind where the replay shows something impossible and I’ll think that was me?
We win 4-2 and now the series is 2-3 going into Game 6.
The locker room after is louder than it’s been since the playoffs started. Music blasting from someone’s speaker, Rodriguez dancing in a towel. It sounds normal. Except Jack undresses, showers, and leaves without speaking to anyone.
Nobody mentions it but everybody sees it.
Game 6 is back in Miami. The plane is different, the team is coming back to life.
I’m in my window seat with Mackie’s playlist on.
She made it three months ago—‘zach’s pre-game brain reset’—and every third song is by the same band.
Save Divinity. Indie pop punk, which I didn’t know was a genre until Mackie made it my entire pregame routine.
I’ve been listening to this playlist for three months but I still can’t tell their songs apart.
Rodriguez falls into the seat next to me and pulls one of my earbuds out.
“What are we listening to?”
“Mackie’s playlist.”
He puts it in his own ear and his face changes immediately. “Is this Save Divinity?”
“It’s always Save Divinity. Half this playlist is Save Divinity.”
“Your girl has incredible taste.” He’s nodding along now. “Did she tell you we saw them last year? At a little dive bar with maybe a hundred people. They played for two hours and the lead singer broke a mic stand. I’m getting their logo tattooed after the season. Already picked the spot.”
“You’re getting a tattoo of a band logo.”
“It’s not just a band. It’s a lifestyle.”
“It’s pop punk.”
“It’s a LIFESTYLE. Your girlfriend gets it. Why don’t you get it?”
“I don’t know what there is to get. They all sound the same.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
He falls asleep next to me, Save Divinity playing into one ear. I put my head back and close my eyes.
We win Game 6. 3-2. I’m standing in my crease with my arms at my sides and my legs shaking and the horn fills the silence of all the Florida fans who just watched a team down 0-3 tie the series.
Rodriguez skates the full length of the ice, bypassing the entire celebration, and comes straight for me. He grabs my helmet with both hands and puts his forehead against mine.
“Game 7, baby.” His voice is raw. “Game fucking 7.”
Barrett comes into the locker room after. He stands in the middle and looks at every single person, one by one.
“One game,” he says. “Everything you’ve done this season—every practice, every film session, every rep—it all comes down to one game on our ice.
I’m not going to give you a speech about legacy or history or what this means.
You already know. You’ve been playing like you know.
” He pauses. “Enjoy tonight. Sleep tomorrow. Be ready the day after.”
He leaves and I sit there with my phone in my hand that has nine texts from Mackie that came in during the third period.
Mackie
SAVE
ANOTHER SAVE
I’M GOING TO THROW UP
rodriguez has the puck rodriguez has the puck
RODRIGUEZ
I JUST SCREAMED SO LOUD MY MOM CAME DOWNSTAIRS
GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7
I’m shaking
I’m literally sitting on the floor shaking
Me
47 saves
Mackie
I COUNTED
Me
we’re coming home
One more game. The only game that matters and I don’t know what happens after it.
I don’t know what next season looks like.
Whether Jack will ever talk to me again or the locker room goes back to normal.
Will I go back to being the backup goalie after I’ve played the best hockey of my life in the middle of the worst month of my life?
None of it will matter if we lose Game 7 and the story ends there.
The flight lands and I drive home faster than I ever have.
I can hear the shower running as I walk into my apartment and I’ve barely put the keys on the counter when the bathroom door flies open and Mackie comes at me at full speed, hair dripping, wearing one of my t-shirts that is now completely see-through, and hits me like a small, damp freight train.
She’s got her arms around my neck and she’s getting water everywhere.
“You made forty-seven saves,” she says into my neck.
“I did. You’re soaking wet.”
“I was in the shower and I heard your keys.”
“You could have finished your shower.”
“Absolutely not.” She pulls back. Her eyes are red and bright at the same time and my entire shirt is drenched. She puts her hands on my face. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Good. Me too. You know what’s crazy? Two days from now this is over. One way or the other. The whole season, the whole series, everything—it’s just over. And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the scariest part.” She drops her hands to my shoulders. “Not the game. The after.”
I nod. Because she’s right. The game I know how to do. Stop the puck, communicate, be loud, play. The game is the game. It’s everything else I can’t see yet.