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NHL Rulebook.
Section 2 - Teams.
Rule 5 - Team.
5.3 Goalkeeper.
If, however, the third goalkeeper is dressed and on the bench when the second goalkeeper becomes incapacitated, the third goalkeeper shall enter the game immediately and no warm-up is permitted.
Nico was dazed. Once the game had started, he'd pretty much forgotten why he'd been there in the first place. It was a rare occurrence for emergency goaltenders to get called into a game, but for them to actually play was practically unheard of. He hadn't thought he'd actually have to play - not for a single second.
Coach Hedge sent a questioning look over Nico's shoulder, then nodded. "Will's buying us a little time, but we have to hurry. You've played tonight?"
"Practice, yeah."
"Good, because you're not getting a warm-up." Hedge pointed at the ice. "I'll get my best guys out there defending you, so you should be good. Keep your eyes on the puck, that's all that matters."
Nico was ushered onto the ice before he could respond. The blond guy beside Ahlstrom - the team's medic, apparently - smiled at him as he headed over to the goal, and slowly helped Ahlstrom up with Grace's help.
"Welcome to the big league, kid," Grace told him as they passed, slowly skating Ahlstrom over to the bench.
Nico crossed the ice. It was colder than it had been on the bench, the air clearer and more crisp the further he got away from the bench. The sweat on the back of his neck cooled and sent a shiver up his spine.
He looked around the arena, rolling his shoulders and working his neck in an attempt to warm up his muscles. The place was enormous, but from where he stood near the goal, it seemed even bigger. The rink spread out in front of him, reflecting the lights and the players in the stands.
Aside from the small practice rinks he played his games in, Nico had been to plenty of other rinks in his life. The ones the NHL teams played in were huge, able to seat thousands. Rinks like that were majestic, even from the seats high up in the stands. However, he'd never had the chance to appreciate the sheer majesty at ice level in a rink this large. Rows and rows of people, stacked floor to ceiling, a sea of orange in support of the Furies.
He couldn't screw up. Thousands of people had their eyes on him, needing him to succeed. A team was only as strong as its weakest link, and right now, Nico was it. Keep it together, he told himself. He couldn't let it get to him. Not here, not now. Not when he was about the play the most important game of his life.
Nico settled in the goal and scratched up the goaltender's crease before him with his skates. He'd need the friction if he was going to have control over his movements, and control was exactly what he needed.
The goal was the castle where he was king, the crease his kingdom, the place where he ruled with a quick blocker and an even quicker glove. Here, like every other goal he'd played in, he would be able to shut out any and all thought, focusing on the game and the game alone.
He whacked his stick against the left goalpost, then against the right, a little superstition he'd picked up along the way. Making sure he had his feet set right as he got into position, he hunched over and scooted backwards into the goal.
He didn't quite fill the goalmouth as much as the other NHL goalies did. He wasn't over six feet tall, he didn't weigh over two hundred pounds - not even close, even with his padding on. It was a fact that had been rubbed in his face far too often; it had even cost him a scholarship to Penn State.
Being told he was too small to be of any use, that he'd never make it into the big leagues with his size, had hurt a hell of a lot. In one moment, his dreams of going to college and pursuing a career in hockey had been dashed. But it hadn't taken away from his love for the game, and he was glad for it.
Right here, right now, was his chance to prove everyone wrong. The scouts, the coaches, everyone who had ever doubted him. It was his time to shine, and he was damned if he wasn't going to give it his all.
He stole a last glance at the clock. The one on the jumbotron told him he'd have to keep it together for the next three minutes and twenty seconds of game time. He watched the players get into position for the faceoff, heard the music blaring all around him, the crowd cheering so loudly he could feel it, and then everything went quiet when the puck dropped.
The Furies had taken possession of the puck and had the Gryphons pinned in their zone. Hunching low, he watched, he waited, tuning everything out so he could focus on the puck.
On the other side of the ice, Kit Gardner whiffed a pass, and before he'd realized it, the Gryphons had stolen the puck, storming up the ice and leaving Torque and Beckendorf to race to Nico's defense.
Save it. Prove everyone wrong.
He was ready. Pushing himself out of the goal a little, he met them head on. A pass to the player on his left, who wound up a shot. In a split second, Nico dropped to his knees and into the butterfly position, spreading his legs out to the side. His leg pads closed off the goal at ice level.
Too late, Nico realized that the puck came at him at too high an angle. He lifted his glove, but was powerless to stop it from sailing straight into the goal, right over his shoulder.
The light in the back of the goal lit up, casting a red glow on the ice under Nico's feet, and the crowd roared, an angry wall of sound crashing over Nico, and he knew it was over. When he looked up, he caught the eyes of the player who'd scored; smirking at Nico before his teammates hugged him, blocking him from Nico's view.
He shook his head, digging behind him to grab the puck before getting up and turning away from the celebrating Gryphons to his right. So much for proving he could do it, that he was worth more than the beer leaguer he was.
He put his mask up and grabbed for his water bottle, taking a long drink. It wouldn't do him any good to hold a pity party for himself now, not in the middle of a game. Still, he'd already blown the one shot he'd ever get.
Before his thoughts got the better of him, Grace came to a stop next to the goal, a serious expression on his face.
Grace's icy stare bored into Nico, and he could feel the disappointment. He resisted the urge to whack his stick against the ice in anger, if only because sticks were expensive, and he didn't have the money for a new one.
"Don't beat yourself up, okay? You're amateur, and it's only normal you have trouble at this level. Keep your head in the game. Track the puck, we'll handle the rest."
He clenched his jaw at Grace's words. The last thing he needed right now was a reminder that he wasn't on the same level as the rest of the guys on the ice, least of all from someone who was supposed to be on his side.
A part of him wanted to say "Fuck it", to skate off and get dressed, to have the first taxi he could find drop him off at home, but the team depended on him, and he was damned if he was going to let them down. It didn't matter if the Furies weren't Chuck and Mike and Jimmy. It didn't matter if they got paid millions and played for the Stanley Cup, instead of which team had to cover the bar tab later that night.
He wasn't going down without a fight. It wasn't over yet. Maybe he had let in a goal, maybe one of his old coaches was watching the game thinking I was right to keep di Angelo off my team, but this wasn't where his night ended. It couldn't, and it wouldn't.
Without replying, Nico pulled his mask back over his face and got back into position, watching as Grace tapped his stick on the ice in front of him twice and skated off.
The game was tied at two, and they were still in the first period. If the team kept playing as offensively as they'd done before Nico had entered the game, they could win this.
He'd gotten his first taste of an NHL game, had experienced firsthand how much faster, more agile, and more skilled the players were. He just needed to adjust his game accordingly.
His strength had always been his ability to focus, his ability to track the puck no matter where it went, and his razor-sharp reflexes. Where some goalies were able to keep the puck out of the goal by brute force using their sheer size and bulk, Nico had to be more creative, had to be two steps ahead of any player looking to score on him. There was an advantage to being smaller than the average goalie. With Nico's smaller build came speed and agility, something he used to his benefit.
He was raring to go, refusing to become the laughing stock of the game and the reason for the Furies losing the game. He wanted to make Grace eat his words.
The whistle sounded again, the Gryphons winning the faceoff and storming up the ice again. Nico took a deep breath and let them come. The next time the Gryphons worked around the defense and took a shot at him, he caught the puck in his glove.
Stepping into the locker room was nerve wracking. All the players had gone to their stalls, busy hanging their jerseys on hangers to let them dry.
It was a little awe-inspiring. He was in a room with eighteen NHL players, elites among hockey players. He felt like a bit of a fraud; most of the guys around him had grown up playing hockey, had dedicated themselves to the sport at an early age before reaching the highest level, and right now it was painfully clear he didn't belong.
He sat down in Ahlstrom's stall, already cleared out and empty, and looked around. The rest of the guys were enjoying their downtime, sitting in their stalls and talking loudly in groups. Nico caught bits and pieces of various conversations, but he kept to himself.
When Coach Hedge came in and took up a spot in the middle of the room, everyone went quiet.
"We're tied, but we can take these bastards," Hedge barked out. "I don't want to see anyone in the penalty box in the next forty minutes." He punctuated his statement with a hard look across the room, some of the players smiling sheepishly - Nico couldn't quite put names to their faces but he assumed they were the guys responsible for most of the penalties this season.
"And Yang? Try not to push people into our goalie again. Ahlie got a dislocated shoulder, so he's not coming back." He nodded towards Nico. "Kid there's all we got tonight. Play nice, and you know the drill: anyone with scrapes or bumps or broken limbs, go see Will. See you in ten minutes."
After Hedge left the room, all eyes focused on him. Nico felt awkward under the weight of their combined gazes. He lifted his head and tried for a smile. "Hi."
Most of the guys returned his greeting; some with a smile, some with a neutral look on their faces, and Yang with a sneer.
He was tapped on the knee with a stick by the guy in the stall next to him.
"Di Angelo, huh?" The guy dropped his eyes from the jersey behind Nico to make eye contact. "Sounds Italian. You Italian?"
Before he could shake his head, the guy powered through, pointing his thumb at his chest. "Cecil Markowitz, but they call me Marky around here. Bad luck on that goal, man. But hey, two more periods to go, right? Gotta look at the bright side of things."
Nico knew Markowitz. As the Pegasi's rivals, Nico was more familiar with the Furies roster than he was with the rosters of pretty much all the other teams. The guy was a pure goal scorer, and routinely got under the Pegasi's skin. Like Nico, he was on the smaller side but made up for it with speed and agility.
It was weird sitting here and having a conversation with him. Nico had cursed him many times over from the comfort of his couch, especially when he scored, but he was a pretty decent guy in person, even if he talked as fast as he skated.
He'd been introduced to a few more players by the time Anderson came to get them for the second period. He stood up, pulled his jersey back on and followed the players out of the locker room.
In the tunnel, he found Grace and Zhang, leaning on their sticks and talking strategy.
"Hey kid," Grace said, waving him over. "C'mere for a sec."
Nico walked over, clutching his mask underneath his arm. As intimidating as it had been to be in the locker room, standing in front of Grace and Zhang was even more so. The both of them were huge, well over six feet and then some. Zhang probably had a whole foot on him.
They were good, too. The two of them had been amazing together from the start. It was probably in a large part due to Zhang taking Grace under his wing that Grace was now considered one of the best young defensemen in the league. Nico felt insignificant, being surrounded by this much talent.
Grace smiled. "You ready to get out there and win us a game?"
Nico resisted the urge to talk himself down. The last thing he needed was to get inside his own head right now. On the ice, he had no greater enemy than himself. If he lost his focus, he might as well get off the ice and leave the net wide open.
It was hard not to, especially in the company he was currently keeping.
"Hey," Grace said, clapping a gloved hand on his shoulder. "It might be different from what you're used to, but it's just another game."
"Sorry," Nico said, smiling sheepishly. "Kinda lost my head there."
Grace's earlier words were still buzzing around in his skull, but he was right. It was just another game. He needed to stop letting himself be intimidated by the NHL, and do what he did best.
He put his mask on the top of his head, took a deep breath and nodded.
"I'm ready."
The Gryphons hit the ground running in the second period, leaving the Furies to try and catch up with them. For the first ten minutes, it felt like the Gryphons had an extra player on the ice; they were fast and calculating, passing to each other so quickly it was hard for Nico to track the puck.
Nico came close to giving up another goal, and another, and another, but he managed to save every shot fired at him so far. He was sure he'd pay the price for it after a game, as he could already feel his arms bruising up where his padding was thinnest. The guys in the NHL had a much harder shot than the guys in his league.
It was exhilarating, though, playing his heart out and being able to truly give it his all, being tested the way he seldomly was in his amateur games. His muscles burned with the strain every time he shot out of his goal to make a save, only to curl right back up and try to cover the puck to buy himself precious seconds of rest before another face-off.
His true test came when twelve minutes into the second period Michael Yew was sent to the penalty box after hooking Damien White to the ice with his stick. It had felt like they were down a man for much of the second period, and now it was going to be a fact. The defense was barely keeping up as things were, and now they were going to go on the penalty kill for two minutes.
As soon as the puck dropped, open season was declared on the Furies goal. A Gryphon defenseman one-timed the puck at him, and he caught it in the middle of the chest, right on the stylized 'F' that made up the Furies logo. It hurt like all hell, and it took all he had not to recoil backwards and accidentally take the puck into the goal with him.
The puck ricocheted off him, and he was too late to cover it up. He whipped his head from side to side, trying to see where it went. From the corner of his eye, he spotted it, on the stick of Damien White, coming up from behind the goal on his other side. He pushed off and slid to the other side of the goal, slamming his skate up against the goalpost and preventing White from scoring on a wrap-around. He couldn't resist flashing White a grin after making the save.
The penalty kill seemed to last forever, an endless barrage of shots to catch and deflect, but after two long minutes of play, Yew came out of the box just as Zhang cleared the puck. With all the Gryphons near the Furies' goal, Yew was able to skate up to the Gryphon goal and take his time for a wristshot, sending it cleanly past their goalie.
The stadium erupted into cheers, and with the Furies up by a goal, Nico could breathe a little easier.
The rest of the period flew by, the Furies having gained a second offensive wind by Yew's goal, coming close to scoring on two other attempts, but when the horn sounded to signal the end of the second period, the score was still 3-2.
Nico was drained as he made his way over to the bench. His lungs were burning, and he was sweaty in places he didn't even know could sweat.
When he got to the dressing room, he hung his jersey back on the hanger in his stall, hoping it'd dry out some before the next period started, and sat down. He loosened his chest protector a little and moved his arms, trying to work some of the soreness out of his muscles.
"Good period, kid. Keep that up."
Nico looked up, but Coach Hedge had already turned his back to him and was addressing the rest of the team. "Yew, you saved the whole team a bag skate by scoring after getting out of the box. I said no more penalties and I meant it. The next one of you chuckleheads to get a penalty will earn you all two extra hours of practice tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"
A few of the players started to groan, and Hedge held up his hand. "Make that three hours. No penalties, remember it. We have a chance to win this, and I expect you to take it with both hands. There is no excuse." He stuck around until the players had nodded their assent, then left the room.
Nico closed his eyes, taking deep and steady breaths in order to try and maintain his focus. Intermission was a huge distraction, with all the chatter going on in the locker room.
He needed the downtime; he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to last if he had to play a full sixty minutes without getting the chance to take a breather, but it broke his momentum. Intermission was a necessary evil, which was why he chose to mostly keep to himself in the locker room - if he managed to keep it together, it would benefit his game, and by extension, the whole team.
When he opened his eyes again, Grace was sitting in Markowitz' stall, a cool look on his face.
"We're going to win this game," he said to no one in particular. He wasn't even looking at Nico.
Nico would have thought Grace was being cocky, if there had been any bravado in the way Grace had spoken. No, he was calm and collected, and Nico could tell he truly believed they were going to win.
Grace's cool confidence was awe-inspiring. Nico had no trouble believing that it was a major reason why Grace had been named captain. Just sitting there, looking at Grace and the utter lack of tension in his frame, the way he seemed cool headed and in charge, the way not even Grace's eyes betrayed him, made Nico believe it too. If anything, it made him want to follow Grace into battle and give it his all to make sure they'd win.
He wondered how Grace kept it together, though. The Furies were one of the worst teams in the league, their losses outnumbering their wins easily.
Nico understood losing. Losing games wasn't easy, even in the beer leagues, where games were played for the honor of winning, and a case of beer. In the NHL, the stakes were much higher. Every player wanted the storied Stanley Cup, the highest prize in professional hockey.
For the Furies, their chances of winning a cup, or even making it to the playoffs had been thrown out the window early in the season, after racking up too many losses for it to become feasible. It had to be rough, playing fifty more games, knowing your ultimate goal is already unreachable.
With just that simple phrase, Nico's respect for Grace had grown immensely. He turned to face Grace, and smiled. "We're gonna win it."
Grace nodded and flashed Nico a small smile of his own. "Yeah," he said, getting up and heading out of the locker room.
The third period was more of the same, the big difference being that Nico was struggling to keep up. He loved the speed of the game, and the way it took everything he had and still wanted more, but jumping in at this level was maybe a little more than he could chew.
He refused to give up, though. He'd already given up one goal in the first period, and he wasn't going to be the reason for a loss. He'd fade from public memory soon enough, but he didn't want to be the guy who lost his first and only NHL game.
As the clock ticked on, it was getting harder to stay focused, the physical and mental exhaustion taking its toll. He started fumbling the puck instead of keeping it contained, the puck rebounding off him and back into play more often than it should, only creating more and more opportunities for the Gryphons to score.
Midway through the third, the play was whistled dead and a TV-timeout was called. After dumping his bottle of water on his face, he skated to the bench to have it refilled.
Grace was waiting for him, his face red with exertion. "Tired, huh?"
"Yeah. Kinda dead on my feet right now." Nico pulled his mask off and took the towel Grace handed to him, drying his face and hair. When he hung the towel over the boarding and looked back up, Grace cracked something in his hand and waved it under Nico's nose.
The smell hit him like a fist to the face. Instantly, he recoiled, his head jerking back to get away from it. His nose felt like it was burning.
"What the fuck?!"
Grace laughed, and Nico could hear more laughter coming from the bench. It took every bit of restraint not to punch Grace in the stomach. "Smelling salts?!"
"Smelling salts," Grace said calmly, holding up a small cracked tube. "Wakes you right up, doesn't it?"
Nico's eyes were watering, and he quickly looked up and blinked it away, taking deep breaths to clear his nose of that awful smell. "Fuck, that almost hurts." He shook his head and leveled Grace with his best I'm going to kill you stare. "I hate you."
He'd never tried smelling salts before - he'd never needed to, always making sure to show up well-rested on game days. One of his teammates in the amateur league had brought a box to practice one day, but after seeing the faces of everyone who'd tried, Nico had decided he wasn't going near them.
"But it helped, right?" Grace almost looked smug. The bastard was enjoying this.
Nico sighed and put his mask on his head, glaring up at Grace from underneath the neck guard resting on his forehead. "Yes," he grumbled. It had been a shock to his system, and while it'd been awful, he felt like someone had hit the reset button on his exhaustion.
"Good," Grace said, his obnoxious grin disappearing. "Now hang in there. Just ten more minutes on the clock."
Nine minutes and thirteen seconds left. Five hundred and fifty-three seconds until the game would be decided.
The game only got more intense as the clock winded down. The Gryphons were in it to win it, but the frustration in their game was evident. Their passing got more and more sloppy, the body-checks more vicious, and the shots fired at Nico a little harder.
Nico had them right where he wanted them. Frustrated players made for lousy shots; they were less accurate in their shooting, and the finesse that helped score goals was dwindling by the second. It didn't make things easier for Nico; even though the shots were less accurate, it didn't make them hurt any less when he had to stop them with his body.
He was thankful for Grace and Zhang, providing excellent cover and blocking shots with their bodies. As the game entered the final stretch, the both of them seemed a permanent fixture on the ice in front of Nico.
Victory was so close they could taste it, but one split second could still change the game. One wrong move and they could find themselves on the penalty kill again. One missed pass and the Gryphons would be in front of Nico before he could blink. One goal was all the Gryphons needed to tie the game back up and take the game to overtime.
Nico's heart lifted when, with three minutes to spare, Markowitz broke away from the Gryphons, Fletcher in his wake and no defensemen in front of them. Markowitz passed to Fletcher, who didn't wait to accept the puck before shooting it, his one-timer bouncing off the post and back into play.
The crowd's loud cheering in anticipation of a goal quickly died down, and with it, Nico's excitement.
The worst was yet to come, and with two minutes and five seconds to go, the Gryphons pulled their goaltender, leaving their goal wide open in favour of an extra skater on the ice. They were going on the attack, six against five. Nico braced himself. Whatever happened, he had to keep the Gryphons off the scoreboard.
The Furies did everything they could to help him. They seemed to have found an extra gear, throwing themselves in front of shots to block them with their bodies, and checking players off the puck. Anything to keep the puck from getting too close to the goal.
Nico saved the few shots that did make it through, turning them away, though his arms felt like lead. He could barely see in front of him with two Gryphons trying to block his view, and had to trust the rest of the team to make sure he wouldn't have to do the impossible.
It was all rewarded when, with forty-five seconds to spare, Damien White saw a clean opening and took a shot at him. Nico saw him take the shot, and raised his glove, the shot grazing against his arm and bouncing back into play. It hurt like hell, but Zhang got the puck away from him and passed it to center ice.
Ellis Wakefield had been waiting, checking the Gryphon defenseman off to the side and breaking away with the puck. The Gryphons had gambled wrong when they'd pulled their goaltender. Wakefield lined up a shot and sent the puck sliding cleanly into the empty net.
The crowd erupted, the goal horn blaring three times, the sound surging through Nico's bones. He lifted his stick to the crowd and screamed, "Yes!".
As the goal song played, Nico couldn't keep the grin off his face. Thirty-nine seconds left on the clock. It'd take a miracle for the Gryphons to win the game, and by the dejected looks on the players' faces, they knew it.
The goal, the thrill of having victory in close reach sent adrenalin coursing through Nico's body. He couldn't stop smiling, even when the puck dropped again for the last time. All the fight had gone out of the Gryphons, and though they made a valiant last push, they didn't even come close to scoring on Nico.
Nico looked up at the jumbotron, seeing the final seconds tick away.
Three...Two...One...
He'd done it. No, they'd done it.
The crowd was on their feet, cheering louder than Nico had heard them cheer all night. The goal horn blasted a few more times to declare a victory, and before he knew it, he was almost barreled into by the Furies.
They swarmed him with grins on their faces, whooping noisily. He was soon joined by the players who'd been on the bench until the game had ended. One by one, they clapped his shoulder and bumped their helmets against Nico's mask.
"Thanks, man. You really came through for us," Markowitz said, pulling Nico into a one-armed hug before skating off.
When he looked up, there was one player left. Nico tried not to be embarrassed by how far Grace had to lean down to bump helmets with him.
"I told you we'd win," Grace said as he drew back. He was grinning like an idiot, and Nico couldn't help but grin back, sliding his mask up his head. He'd won an NHL game, he was allowed to be proud of himself.
He'd never thought he'd get the call to be the Furies' emergency goaltender. He'd never thought he'd actually play in the game, and he sure as hell had never thought he'd end up winning a game.
As they skated to the bench, Grace raised his stick to the crowd, and Nico did the same. The cheers only got louder. Nico drank it all in. This was one night he was never going to forget.
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