AUTHOR'S NOTES: In the interest of originality, I have replaced the commentators' lines with Kestle and Kathryn watching the game. I also changed the end scene a bit. This is the second to last chapter. / and / represent a foreign language; in this case Icelandic.
A NEW TEAM – CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
Connie put the finishing touches on her long braid and wound and elastic band around the end.
"Why don't you just cut your hair?" Kaley asked, sweeping her shoulder-length blond hair into a short ponytail. "Makes it so much easier for the helmet."
"I guess." Connie readied her helmet. "But I like my long hair. It's-"
"Coach!" Adam bounded into the locker room, looking as happy as a clam.
"Hey, Cake-Eater, don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" Jesse joked.
Adam ignored the jest. He snagged Ken's hockey stick and turned to Coach Bombay. "I woke up…" he rotated the stick. "And the pain was gone."
Coach Bombay looked at Adam pityingly. "I'm sorry, Adam, but we already have a full roster."
Adam's face fell. Russ dejectedly began to take off his jersey, but Charlie stopped him. "He can have my spot."
Coach Bombay raised his eyebrows. "Charlie, are you sure?"
Charlie nodded. "It's what I can do for the team."
Connie smiled. That was totally Charlie-always putting the team before himself.
Coach Bombay handed Charlie the clipboard. "I'll need you on the bench, Charlie. Coaching right along with me."
Kestle blew her nose and reached for the tissue box with her good arm. "Tord ligabets ad and cold…" she lamented.
Kathryn sniffed and reached for the remote. "You're dot alode."
"By shoulder hurts," Kestle complained. The diagnosis on her injury had been torn ligaments. They would take months to heal, and would sideline her from gymnastics for nearly a year.
"Whed did you last take your ibuprofid?" Kathryn asked through sniffles.
Kestle checked her watch. "Three hours ago."
"You gotta wait adother hour."
"Shoot."
"Hey!" Kathryn grabbed the remote. "The hockey gabe's od."
Averman skated nervously to the face-off. Great, it's the same kid who cleaned my clock last time, he thought with an inward groan. He swallowed hard and gave an apprehensive smile. "How's it goin'?"
The Icelander responded with a sneer as the ref dropped the puck. The sneer caused Averman's attention to wander for just enough time to allow the Icelander to knock him down. And it looks like he'll clean my clock again.
"Uh-oh," Goldberg said to himself as an Iceland player skated at him "Uh, OK, left, right, left…which side? Which side?"
The question was answered as the black-clad Viking scored on Goldberg's glove side. "Too slow, big boy," the player taunted.
Goldberg took his gloves off and started at the Icelander. "All right, that's it!"
"Don't listen to him!" Dwayne drawled, grabbing Goldberg's arm.
"He'll kill you!" Ken insisted, taking the goalie's other arm.
"Well, let me go so I can kill him!" Goldberg yelled, trying to squirm out of his teammates' grasp. "Hey! Hey! You want some of this?!" He hollered at his attacker. "Come on, guys, let me at him!"
Rolling his eyes at the spectacle by his team's goal, Gordon turned to Russ. "You ready?" He asked the newest addition.
Russ nodded.
"Line change!" Gordon called. "Go for it, Russ."
Russ wasn't even on the ice for five seconds before Stefansson and Sandersson decked him. "What're you doing?" He asked indignantly. "Come on, guys, get off me!" He shoved the two Icelanders out of his way and called for the puck. "It's knuckle puck time!" He declared as Ken sailed the puck over.
"Aw, man!" Russ nearly whined as Sandersson stole the puck and scored with it. Iceland now led two to nothing.
"We can't make it!" Averman panted from the box. "Iceland's bigger, they're stronger, they're faster, they…they've got more facial hair."
"This certadly is iterestig," Kathryn commented as she blew her nose.
"You thidk Fultod's iterestig," Kestle pointed out, reaching for the Sinex on the nightstand. "You wat sub?"
"Doe way!" Kathryn protested. "You're sick, ad you've bed stickig that up your dose!"
"You're sick, too!" Kestle said.
"That's too buch," Kathryn persisted. "Get by Afrid out of the bedicid cabidet id the bathroob."
"What ab I, your slave?" Kestle asked.
"I get dizzy wed I stad up," Kathryn defended herself. "I dote thidk you wat to call dide-wud-wud after I split by head oped."
Kestle stood up. "Oh, fide."
"Banks!" Coach Bombay called. Adam turned around to look at his coach. "You're on. Be careful out there."
Adam nodded and vaulted over the boards. Almost immediately, Sandersson slashed his bad wrist. Pain shot up Adam's arm. Oh, no, not again!
"Ref!" Coach Bombay railed from the box. "Call something, for crying out loud! He almost took his arm off!"
Adam smiled; glad to have the support of his team and his coach.
"That'll be two minutes," the ref reported as he escorted Sandersson to the penalty box.
"Two minutes?" Sandersson asked. "Well worth it."
Coach Bombay beckoned Adam over to the box. "Adam! Your wrist; is it OK?"
Adam nodded. "It's fine, Coach. He just hit the padding." At Coach Bombay's skeptical look he added, "Really."
Fulton and Portman looked at each other. "Let's give them some Bash Brothers treatment," Fulton said, reaching for his bandana.
"Yeah," Portman agreed.
The Bash Brothers hit the ice. Gunnar came at them but went flying into his own goal before he could even know what happened.
"We are Team USA!" Fulton declared to the prone Viking.
"You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!" Portman added.
"Oh, look at them!" Kathryn squealed as she and Kestle watched on the TV. "They're so…manly."
Kestle sniffed and squirted more Sinex up her nose.
"Glove side," Goldberg muttered as an Icelander named Karlsson shot at him. "Ha!" Goldberg exclaimed triumphantly as the puck landed in his glove. "So predictable."
"Kaley, you're up."
Kaley nodded at her dad's order and took to the ice. "Oof!" she cried as she tripped. "How did that…" She stopped her monologue as her question was answered. Gunnar was standing above her, grinning.
Just ignore him, Kaley thought. She was non-confrontational by nature, but that part of her personality seemed to fly out the window when it came to hockey. On the ice, Kaley Bombay was a fireball who threw around insults like Wiffle balls.
"What's the matter, little lady?" Gunnar's Icelandic accent taunted.
Say no more, Kaley decided. She turned around and charged at Gunnar. Even though she was barely five feet tall, she managed to take him down.
Fweet! "Game misconduct, young lady!"
Kaley whirled around. "Do you know what he called me?" She challenged the ref.
"No, and I don't care," the ref said. "Out!"
It's worth it, Kaley decided as she glided back to the box.
"A game misconduct?" Her dad asked. Kaley was glad he seemed more surprised than angry. "Kaley Bombay! You of all people!"
Kaley shrugged. "Nobody calls me a little lady."
"Wahoo!" Ken exulted as he scored. "We're still alive!"
A big Iceland player eyed Ken menacingly. The player was huge to begin with, but he looked even bigger compared to Ken's tiny stature.
"Hey, you want a piece of me?" Ken asked. He remembered the "stick, glove, shirt" routine Russ' brother had taught him and performed it on the Icelander. "Take that!"
"Oh!" Kestle laughed as the Icelander got "shirted" by the tiny Team USA player.
"You know, if you keep using that stuff, it gets less effective," Kathryn informed her friend as Kestle readied the Sinex.
Kestle glared at her teammate. "Why did't you tell be that before?"
Kathryn shrugged. "You didn't ask."
Kestle threw a pillow at the laughing gymnast.
"That'll be two minutes, son," the ref said, taking Ken to the penalty box.
"Two minutes? Well worth it." Ken stole Sandersson's line from earler.
The ref shut the door to the box. As soon as he was gone, Porman and Fulton began banging on the Plexiglas.
"ALL RIGHT LITTLE BASH BROTHER!" Portman roared.
"YOU GO LITTLE MAN!" Fulton confirmed.
"Hey!" Gordon yelled at the scene his players were making at the penalty box. "Come on, guys, let's play hockey!"
But the Bash Brothers wouldn't listen. They left the penalty box and slapped high fives with Team USA, then butted heads with the Icelanders in their box.
Oh, forget it, Gordon decided. "Connie, you're up."
"Connie, be careful," Charlie warned as Connie left the bench. "They're gunning for you."
"Don't worry; I'll be fine!" Connie said, annoyed. Chivalry is dead, she thought disparagingly, getting out of the box. I'm not a little woman. I can handle myself. I-
"Hey!" Connie cried as Gunnar shoved her. She was quite glad she hadn't voiced her thoughts. You won't get rid of me that easily, she thought, hauling herself up and calling for the puck. Her effort was thwarted again, this time by Sandersson.
Dwayne was shocked at what Gunnar and Sandersson were doing. Don't they know how to treat a lady? He thought. Fortunately, I keep my rope around for just such an emergency. He reached under the bench and grabbed his rope. "Yee-haw!" He cheered, jumping off the bench and over the boards. "I'm comin' Connie!"
Much to the apparent shock of everyone, Dwayne cleanly roped Sandersson around the shoulders. With one swift tug, the towering Icelander was a heap of black on the ice.
"Where I come from we treat a lady with respect!" Dwayne spat at the prone form.
"Thank you, Dwayne, but I'm no lady," Connie said politely, then turned to Sandersson. "I'm a Duck!" She delivered a swift kick to his shoulder and stormed off.
Charlie and Coach Bombay both shook their heads as the period finished. "This isn't a hockey game; it's a circus," Coach Bombay muttered. Charlie nodded his agreement.
"Well, eved if they dote wid, this sure is eterdaidig," Kestle said as the TV cut to commercials.
"Did you all enjoy that?" Gordon asked, striding into the locker room where Team USA was taking off their helmets to cool down before the next period.
"Yeah!" Was the enthusiastic response.
"Well, good," Gordon said tersely. "So did they. Because they're three points up, and we're one period away from defeat."
The mood sobered a bit. "But we can't beat them," Jesse pointed out. "We might as well keep our pride."
Gordon shook his head. "That's not pride, Jesse," he corrected gently. "Sure, when Dwayne roped that big oaf part of me cheered." He went on quickly, seeing the blush that crept into Dwayne's face. "But guys, I've been there. I wanted to cream that jerk who busted my knee in the minors. And I really, really wanted to go after Stansson for that cheap shot. But my knee will heal." Probably not completely, but that's beside the point. "But if I become something I'm not; if I sink to their level…then I've lost more than my knee."
None of the team interrupted, so Gordon went on. "We're not goons, we're not bullies, and no matter what we do, we'll still be ourselves."
The team seemed to mull that over for a moment. "You," Gordon said after a moment, pointing at Portman. "Who are you?"
"Dean Portman," Portman answered obediently.
"From where?" Gordon asked.
"Chicago, Illinois."
Gordon nodded his approval and turned his gaze to Guy. "Who are you?"
"Guy Germaine," Guy responded.
"Where are you from?" Gordon prompted.
"St. Paul, Minnesota."
Gordon looked at Jesse. "You."
"Jesse Hall from Minneapolis, Minnesota," Jesse replied with a grin.
"You," Gordon told Julie.
"Julie Gaffney from Bangor, Maine," Julie said.
Gordon turned to Luis. "You."
"Luis Mendoza from Miami, Florida," Luis answered.
Goldberg leapt up, not needing any prompting. "Greg Goldberg, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
"Kaley Bombay from Baltimore, Maryland," Kaley stated proudly.
"Lester Averman, Brooklyn Park, Minnesota," Averman said.
"Fulton Reed, Stillwater, Minnesota," Fulton announced.
"Russ Tyler, South-Central Los Angeles," Russ proclaimed.
"Charlie Conway, Minneapolis, Minnesota," Charlie chimed in.
Ken stood up. "Ken Wu, San Francisco, California."
"Connie Moreau, Minneapolis, Minnesota," Connie declared.
Miss MacKay shrugged. "Michele MacKay, Duluth, Minnesota,"
Gordon gave a satisfied smile. "And I'm Gordon Bombay, from Minneapolis, Minnesota."
The team gave a raucous cheer. "We're Team USA," Gordon stated. "Gathered from all parts of the country. And we're gonna stick together. You know why?"
"Because we are Ducks," came the gentle Scandinavian voice from the doorway. "And Ducks fly together."
Gordon turned around to face his friend. "That's right, Jan." He turned back to his team. "And just when you think they're about to break apart?"
"DUCKS FLY TOGETHER!" The team chanted.
"And when the wind blows hard and the sky is black?" Michele asked.
"DUCKS FLY TOGETHER!"
"And when the roosters are crowin' and the cows are spinnin' circles in the pasture?" Dwayne drawled.
The team looked at each other, confused.
"OK…" Gordon motioned for the kids to respond.
"DUCKS FLY TOGETHER!"
"And when everybody says it can't be done," Gordon said softly, "Ducks fly together."
Jan stepped forward. "Now new Ducks and old Ducks must unite under one banner." He held up a white-and-green jersey with two crossed hockey sticks behind a hockey mask shaped like a Duck's bill. "And I thought perhaps, something like this."
"Here it comes," Kathryn handed Kestle another tissue.
Kestle blew her nose. "I wish you'd told be about that whole Sidex thig before I took all of it."
"Hey!" Kathryn sat bolt upright on the bed. "What's this?"
"What?" Kestle struggled to sit up and began to cough.
"Don't cough on me," Kathryn said, moving away.
"What harb will it do?" Kestle asked. "You're sick, too!"
"Look!" Kathryn pointed at the screen. There was a new team on the ice, wearing green, white, and purple uniforms.
"What team is this?" The announcer was asking no one in particular. "It's not Team USA…oh, wait. Yes it is! They're wearing the logo of the Ducks!"
"Why are they doing that?" Kathryn asked.
"I've just gotten word that there is no rule against changing uniforms," the commentator said. "Well, Gordon Bombay's old team was called the Ducks, so I'd say we've got USA Ducks on the ice right now."
The USA Ducks gathered in their box and put their hands in the middle. But instead of their "USA all the way" chant, they did a chant specially designed for their new uniforms.
"Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK GOOOOO DUCKS!"
The words WE WILL QUACK YOU flashed across the scoreboard, and the crowd began singing "We will, we will quack you!" if adrenaline could have won the game, USA would have come out on top.
"Averman! You've got the face-off," Coach Bombay ordered.
Averman took to the ice and lowered his face shield. I'm gonna get this big oaf, he decided, meeting Sandersson at center ice.
"We meet again," Sandersson mocked.
"Mm-hm." Averman nodded slowly.
The ref dropped the puck. As soon as it clacked to the ice, Averman decked Sandersson and took the puck. In his peripheral vision, Averman spotted Connie calling for the puck and he passed it to her.
"Yes!" Connie exulted as she scored. Her joy quickly turned to dismay as Gunnar took the puck and scored. She looked up at the scoreboard. USA now trailed five to two.
"Charlie, what are you doing?" Averman asked as Charlie assembled the team in the box. "This isn't the NBA!"
"But it's the perfect teamwork play!" Charlie insisted, showing the Ducks the diagram he'd drawn.
Kaley took the puck from Jesse and shot it through the Iceland goalie's legs. Five to four. We're still in this, she thought. The Ducks were catching up.
"Russ!" Coach Bombay said. "We have two minutes left. Can you get yours in?"
"I don't know," Russ answered truthfully.
"Try," Coach Bombay commanded.
Russ nodded apprehensively and took to the ice. Iceland had apparently tightened their offensive a bit, because he was knocked down four times. He never even got near the puck.
"Time out!" Gordon yelled, signaling. The ref nodded. "USA! Let's bring it in!" he called. "OK, kids, now here's what I want you to do." He explained his strategy to the Ducks.
"Wudder what they're doig," Kestle asked, blowing her nose.
Guy skated in circles, trying to look busy as he awaited Coach Bombay's signal. I hope this works, this better work…
"Come on, Guy, now!" Coach Bombay's voice cut through the air like a knife.
Guy called for the puck, and Dwayne passed it to him. Guy shot the puck towards the Ducks' goal, where "Goldberg" stopped it.
But it wasn't Goldberg at all! During the time-out, Goldberg and Russ had switched uniforms. Russ lifted his face shield and teed the puck. "It's knuckle puck time!" He announced, sending the puck spiraling across the rink.
"No!" Stansson howled as the puck hit his team's net. The game was tied right as the buzzer went off. Third period was over. Just a few seconds earlier and the game would have gone to the Vikings.
The referee sailed by Iceland's box. "Shoot-out," he informed Stansson quickly, then went to give the news to Team USA.
Stansson nodded. /Victory will be ours,/ he promised himself solemnly.
"What's a shootout?" Kestle asked. Her stuffy nose was now beginning to drain into her throat. This made it much easier to speak, but she was coughing constantly.
"I don't know," Kathryn said. "Maybe the announcer will say something."
"It's down to a shootout!" The announcer said. "Each team will send five of its best players against the other team's goalie. Whoever gets the most shots wins."
"Well, that was informative," Kestle said through a coughing fit.
"Shoot-out," Gordon muttered to himself. "Jesse! You're up first. Go for it, son!"
Jesse skated to center ice. He hated shootouts, always had and always would. The ref dropped the puck and Jesse wasted no time getting his turn over with. He shot the puck right through the goalie's legs.
Goldberg stood at the goal, stick and puck ready. Work for me, big boys, he willed them.
Even though the Icelander's face was completely hidden by his mask, Goldberg could have sworn he saw him sneering. I'll show him, he thought. He stick-saved his opponent's shot. We're still alive!
Guy sent the puck sailing over the Vikings' goalie's shoulder. Phew, he thought, skating back to the box amid cheers from his teammates. Glad that's over.
Goldberg caught the puck in his glove. Good save, he congratulated himself. Two to nothing.
Dawyne, unable to resist showing off, swept the puck off the ice with his stick and began juggling it. For good luck, he thought, putting the puck down and began skating towards the goal. Drat! He thought as his shot stopped in the goalie's glove. Maybe that luck will be there for the next player.
"Oh, no!" Goldberg gasped as the puck slid past him into the goal. That's only their first score, he reminded himself. Plenty of time.
"Ooh, there he is!" Kestle squeaked as Portman stepped onto the ice.
"You like him," Kathryn said.
Kestle nodded through her coughing. "Yes," she admitted grudgingly as the coughing eased. "I do."
"Here's Dean Portman, Bash Brother Number One of the Ducks," the commentator was saying.
Portman took up the puck and began skating.
"Shoot it! Shoot it!" Kestle urged.
As if on cue, Portman shot. "No!" Kestle gasped as Iceland's goalie saved the shot.
Come on, Goldberg told himself as Iceland took yet another shot at the goal. Get in the game here, Goldie! Don't let Iceland get another shot!
Goldberg groaned in dismay as the puck shot into the goal. Two to two, he thought. It's getting tense.
"I can't watch this," Kaley muttered, dropping her head into her hands.
"Go, Kaley," Gordon said.
Kaley looked up at her father. "What?"
"Go!" Her dad cocked his head toward the ice.
"Dad, come on," Kaley argued. "You know I'm not-"
"Kaley! Go!" Dad snapped.
"OK, OK," Kaley said meekly, climbing out of the box.
"Gordon, do you think that was a bit harsh?" Michele asked as Kaley nervously took her place at center ice.
"She's one of our best, Michele," Gordon argued.
"She doesn't do well under pressure!" Michele argued as Kaley unsteadily skated towards the Vikings' goal.
"She needs to learn!" Gordon said. "If she-"
Clang! The puck bounced off Iceland's goal and landed on the ice.
"Do you really think now was the appropriate time?" Michele asked as a dejected-looking Kaley skated back.
"Come on, Goldberg!" Ken yelled from the box, earning a round on shushes from his teammates. "He sure could use the encouragement,"
The Icelander, whose last name was Ragnarsson, headed towards USA's goal. Goldberg did his very best, but couldn't save it.
"Goldberg's getting tired," Russ observed.
Julie nodded at Russ' observation. Please, Coach, let me play, she begged mentally. Just this game, please…
Iceland's goalie, Stefansson-no relation to Gunnar-prepared himself for this onslaught. Tyler was good-very good-and Stefansson was sure the famous "knuckle puck" would be used.
He was right. The puck came spiraling through the air, and-crack!-got the Viking right between the eyes. He fell backwards to the ice, and the last thing he saw was the bright fluorescent lights of the stadium.
Russ looked back at his teammates. "I didn't mean to get him!" He said in response to the look Coach Bombay was giving him. "But at least I scored!"
As his team brought in a replacement goalie, Kristofersson headed to center ice. Now USA was ahead, and Kristofersson was quite sure that he was going to fix that.
USA's goalie was good; but not as good as their backup, Gaffney. Fortunately she was on the bench, and had been for most of the tournament. What did they bring her for? So the feminists will be happy? Kristofersson sneered to himself.
/"Thank you!"/ Kristofersson cheered as his shot went in, much to the goalie's chagrin.
New goalie, Adam thought as he began skating. Maybe he'd get lucky and this goalie wouldn't be as good as the last.
Luck seemed to be on his side. Adam scored easily. Four to three, he sighed to himself. Busted wrist and all.
/If I can get this shot in, Iceland's victory will be that much closer,/ Sandersson told himself. /If not, it will go to Team USA./
Come on, Goldberg, stop this shot, Goldberg mentally cheered himself on. You can do it. Pretend it's not a shootout at all. Just-
Thwack! The puck brushed the end of Goldberg's stick but went into the goal anyway. Shoot! Goldberg thought. Now we're tied! Next shot means victory for Iceland!
"Julie!" Coach Bombay sat down next to the Mainer. "You've got the fast glove. I know this kid's move: triple deke, glove side."
"What if he goes stick side?" Julie's excitement at finally being able to play was competing with her apprehension at having to play now, when victory was on the line.
"He's fancy; he'll go glove," Coach Bombay said confidently, clapping Julie on the shoulder. "Don't hesitate. Go."
Goldberg saw Julie and Coach Bombay talking, and got the feeling his time was up. As Julie sailed over to the goal, Goldberg broke into a smile. "Go get 'em, Julie!" He cheered, going back to the box. She can't get thrown out this time.
/Oh, no!/ Gunnar's jaw dropped as Gaffney took Goldberg's place. /She's supposed to be the best! Maybe she's out of practice because she hasn't played. I'll have to go glove side with her. She'll never anticipate that./
I can do this, Julie told herself.
Gunnar began to skate.
"That's one…" Julie murmured as Gunnar deked once.
"Two…"
"Three."
Smack!
The puck went flying.
Thup.
Julie felt her glove jerk.
Did I get it? She thought, sqeezing her hand. Yes, there was a round hardness in her glove.
"Did she get it?" Goldberg whispered, so quietly nobody even heard him.
/Did you get it?/ Sandersson wanted to scream.
"Did she get it?" Kathryn and Kestle asked in unison.
Julie smiled to herself, straightened-as much as was possible in her goalie pads-and dropped the puck to the ice.
The stadium went from completely silent to deafeningly loud in on second. USA spilled over the box, throwing off their helmets and gloves, running to celebrate. Hugs were exchanged all around.
"You did it, Julie!" Goldberg called, hugging her.
Julie couldn't respond; she simply gave Goldberg the best hug she could through their pads.
Kathryn and Kestle, colds neglected for the moment, jumped on the bed and squealed at each other. "They did it! Our men did it!" Kathryn yelped.
Kestle was too excited to say anything. As she and Kathryn jumped, suddenly the room began to spin and Kestle found herself sprawled on the bed.
"You OK?" Kathryn asked, concerned.
Kestle nodded. "Let's celebrate from here."
"Gunnar," Stansson said as Gunnar went to the box. "You lost it for me."
Gunnar sneered at him in disgust. "You lost it for yourself." He turned to the team. "Let's go shake their hands."
Stansson was utterly speechless.
"Good work, Captain Duck," Gunnar said as he shook Charlie's hand.
"Thanks, Gunnar," Charlie responded appreciatively. Captain Duck. I like the sound of that.
"Good going, Bombay," Stansson admitted grudgingly as he shook Gordon's hand.
"Thanks, Stansson," Gordon said, trying to be cordial. "We'll see you again."