24/7 Flyers/Rangers: Road To The Winter Classic
HBO

Episode 1

"It is a gradual process; taking hold not over weeks and months, but years, decades, and entire lives. The game engraves its way onto the body, envelops itself around the soul, insistently, excruciatingly, completely. Hockey becomes them."

Before they got to the locker room, Grace stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "Hey," he said. "You were great tonight. I'm impressed."

Nico wanted to snipe at Grace for saying that stuff about the NHL being above his level, but swallowed his words - he wasn't about to ruin the celebratory mood. "Thanks," he said instead, cracking a tiny smile. Despite having been a dick earlier, Jason Grace - a professional hockey player - had complimented him on his playing, and it felt great.

"We only have a little time to get showered and dressed before the press shows up, and they're definitely going to want a piece of you tonight. Think you're up for it?"

Shit. He hadn't thought about those - post-game press moments, where members of the media would be allowed into the locker room to ask the players questions about the game. He'd seen a million of them on TV, and he hadn't thought he'd ever be a part of one. He wasn't particularly interested, but Grace was right, an amateur playing in - and winning - an NHL game was more interesting than the typical "I thought we gave it our all and that's why we came out on top" statements. There was no way he was getting out from under this one.

"Not really, but I guess I don't have a choice, right?"

The smile he'd flashed Grace must not have been all that convincing; Grace chuckled and nudged him with his elbow. "Just stick with me, and we'll get you through it."

When Grace opened the door to the locker room, Nico was met with a celebration for the ages. The players were in various states of undress and howling along with what must have been the Furies' locker room victory song - a terrible hip-hop song Nico'd never heard before.

The second the rest of the guys spotted him, he was pulled into the celebration. Sweaty arms were swung over his shoulders as Markowitz took his mask and he was danced over to his stall. His feet barely hit the ground on the way there, and he was pretty sure his ears would be ringing for a while, but he couldn't stop grinning.

He loved the amateur league celebrations; hugs and a night of getting drunk for free, but this felt better. Wherever he looked he saw smiling faces. Players were doing silly dances, laughing like they'd just made it through the trenches alive. Nico loved it. It was clear from the lighthearted happiness in the room that these guys lived and breathed the game, being happy with their victory for reasons other than not having to pay their bar tab. No, these guys were celebrating because they'd set themselves a goal and they'd reached it after giving it their all. It was the infectious kind of happiness that came from relief, sweeping you along for the ride whether you wanted to or not.

"And tonight-" Markowitz barked out after the victory song had ended, silencing the room and turning all eyes on him, "the wings go to…" He pointed at Grace, who stood at the other side of the locker room holding up a baseball cap with two fluffy orange wings sticking out from the sides. He grinned and walked over to Nico, bowing down and holding it out in front of him.

"Tonight's MVP," Grace said, grinning as he looked up. "Well deserved."

Nico felt honored as he accepted the hat, though he hadn't realized team MVP honors came with a ridiculous costume prop, and a huge smile broke out across his face as the room filled with applause and whooping, a wolf whistle coming from his left.

"Go on," Markowitz said. "Put it on!"

A small part of him wondered whether he'd been named MVP because of his play, or because he was the guy who'd just happened to be there when the Furies won a game and would likely never set foot in the locker room again. He pushed the thought away. He could doubt himself all he wanted, but not tonight, not while he was in the middle of a celebration, wearing the dumbest hat he'd ever seen. He'd played the game, he'd won, and now he was going to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

"Thanks, guys," he said, brushing his hair back before putting the cap on. When he lifted his head, he could feel the wings move. "How do I look?"

Laughter broke out across the room as the guys went back to undressing, the music blaring loudly again.

He joked around with the guys in the stalls closest to him, hummed along to the songs he knew, and even dared busting out some terrible dance moves, riding the adrenaline high for as long as he could.

After grabbing a quick shower, reality smacked him in the face.

When they got back to the room, their uniforms had been taken out of the stalls and replaced by their regular clothing. Every stall was home to a fancy, tailored suit that must've cost more than two months' rent for his shitty apartment, except for one - his.

Up until now he'd been riding the game's high, spurred on by the celebration and drunk on victory. He'd almost forgotten he wasn't a real part of the team, but when he looked at his stall, the ratty sweatpants and worn out hoodie, neatly folded up on the seat, the bubble burst.

He didn't belong to this team. He was a guest, only having been invited out of sheer necessity. He only had to look around the room, look at the Furies starting to dress to the nines, to know that he was out of place. Half the players had pocket squares sticking out of their suit jackets, while his t-shirt had an old pizza stain he hadn't been able to wash out.

The happiness turned to bitterness, all residual adrenaline gone, the soreness creeping back into his muscles. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

"You ready?"

Grace was standing beside him, dressed in a smart navy suit. The light blue dress shirt brought out his eyes, making them appear softer than they had looked under the harsh glare of the ice.

Nico felt like an idiot next to him. Besides the difference in clothing, he barely reached Grace's shoulder. It got even worse when Grace put the stupid winged hat back on his head.

"It's tradition," he said, grinning.

Nico wanted to glare at him and bite out an insult, but before he could, the doors to the locker room opened, and members of the media came pouring in.

The largest group settled around him and Grace, holding out audio recorders. A couple of reporters were holding up their phones, and he could see at least one person with a video camera.

The questions were loud, and there were so many of them that Nico could barely make out the words. He wondered how players could tell them apart - Was it something that only came with years of experience?

Grace put on a warm smile and pointed at one of the reporters, who then repeated his question.

"How do you feel after the win? Do you think losing both Harald and Ahlstrom had an impact?"

"Obviously it had an impact. Losing both of our goalies in a single night isn't a situation any team wants to be in. I've yet to find out how the two of them are doing but I'm sure I'll be seeing them in a little bit. But we overcame it and grabbed the win, and we had some great help from this guy right here," Grace said, throwing his arm around Nico's shoulder.

It was almost too casual. Grace didn't seem phased at all by the small army of reporters in front of him. Nico wondered how he did it. He'd never been the center of attention like this, and it was overwhelming.

"How was your first game in the NHL? Did you enjoy it? How does it feel to win?"

Grace gently nudged him, and Nico took a moment to think about it. "It was great," he said. "I liked it. Winning always feels good."

It was silent for a moment. Clearly, the reporters had expected a longer answer. "And uh… I'm pretty tired right now," he quickly added, a nervous chuckle bubbling up from his throat.

The reporters laughed and launched more questions at him, and he answered all of them as quickly as he could, hoping every question would be the last one. He wanted to limit the time he'd appear on TV looking ridiculous with the wings hat on, but there always seemed to be another question waiting as soon as he'd finished speaking.

When the reporters finally left the room, he was dead on his feet. It felt like an hour had passed with the press in front of him, but a look at the clock told him it had only been ten minutes. He was looking forward to going home and crawling into bed.

He finished gathering up his stuff and grabbed his phone from the stall, seeing he had no fewer than thirty new messages, and quickly shoved it in his pocket. He'd deal with those later.

"Alright, cupcakes," coach Hedge said, clapping his hands to get the players' attention. "Great win tonight, let's keep building off this one and beat the Spartans next game. Take the morning off tomorrow, and I'll see you back on the ice at two."

A few of the players exchanged fistbumps with each other and left the room, others stayed behind to finish dressing and talk about the game some more.

Seeing Hedge reminded Nico that Chuck might still be at the stadium. He dug his phone out of his pocket to send him a text, when he was interrupted.

"Hey, kid."

He looked up and saw Hedge pointing his finger at him.

"Come with me for a sec."

Nico pocketed his phone again, text unfinished, and followed Hedge out of the room. A couple of minutes later, they were deep in the bowels of the Argo Stadium, a maze of winding hallways and staircases.

After stopping for coffee, Coach led him into an office and closed the door behind them. He was greeted by a middle-aged man in a wheelchair.

"Nico di Angelo, is it?"

Nico nodded and shook the man's hand. He was feeling a little awkward for having no idea who this man was. Judging by his fancy office, he was a big deal.

"Chris Brunner, General Manager. Come," he said, gesturing to his desk and the two chairs in front of it, "sit."

Grace was already sitting down in one of the chairs, and when Nico took the other, Hedge leaned against the wall behind Brunner.

"That was some impressive playing tonight, Nico," Brunner said. "After Ahlstrom went down, I was sure we'd be looking at another loss."

Nico smiled, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. From now on, he wasn't leaving the house without a three-piece suit, lest he get caught in a situation like this again, wearing nothing but the oldest and rattiest clothes he owned. GM Brunner, the guy in charge of the Furies' roster, actually complimented his playing. He wished he could frame this moment and hang it up in his living room.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Coach tapped one of the handles on Brunner's wheelchair. "We just got the injury report. Ahlstrom is not going to be able to play for the rest of the season, which means I'm down a goalie." He paused, looking from Grace to Brunner before looking Nico in the eye. "I want you to fill that spot."

Nico had been politely nodding along to what Coach said, and he nodded again before the words sank in. "Wait- Me?!"

Coach barked out a hearty laugh, the kind came from the belly. "Yeah, kid. I see something in you. Heck, you just posted a near shutout against a top-ranked team."

Jason turned to face Nico. "Did you know you stopped thirty-two shots? That's a .969 save percentage."

Nico didn't. He hadn't been counting. He knew his numbers were good, but that was in the amateur leagues. Numbers had lost all meaning since he'd tried and failed to go pro.

"And you did it without a single game of NHL experience," Brunner added. "Usually, we'd call Valdez up from the American Hockey League, but I don't want to bring him into the NHL before he's ready. We've got a lot of money riding on his development."

"Twelve games left in the season," Coach said. "What do you think? Want to go pro?"

Nico wanted to pinch himself; this had to be a dream. Brunner and Hedge were offering him everything he'd always wanted: A chance at recognition, a way for him to do the thing he loved most for a living, a way to stick it to his father. Instead, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. His forehead felt clammy, or maybe it was his hands. He couldn't tell - the offer had hit him like a ton of bricks.

He desperately wanted to say yes. His whole body ached for it. His dream was an arm's length away, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

"Can I think about it?"

It was the right answer, no matter how difficult it was to get out of his mouth. He had a future to think about, and he couldn't throw everything away for a dream that could dissolve any minute, leaving him without a job and without an income.

By the looks of it, it hadn't been what either Brunner or Hedge had expected. Even Grace looked surprised at his answer, his brows furrowed.

"Of course," Brunner said, leaning back in his wheelchair. "But you have to understand that hockey is a business, like everything else. I'll give you the night to think, but I'll need an answer from you in the morning."

Nico nodded. "Thank you. I'll let you know first thing in the morning."

The next half-hour was filled with business talk. Brunner explained the contract he would get, detailed his salary, and explained what the team would expect from him. Hedge explained how often they'd practice, where the facilities were, how he ran the team and which value he thought Nico would add to the team. Jason talked briefly about the players and what kind of people they were, how he saw things as captain, and what he thought Nico could bring to the table.

By the time he'd shaken Brunner's hand and was led back into the hallway by Grace and Hedge, a folder full of information and a draft of his contract under his arm, he saw he'd missed three texts from Chuck. The first congratulating him on the win, the second asking where the hell he was, and the third saying he'd gone home, and that Nico had to take a taxi home.

He was still reeling from the offer, and his head was pounding because of the influx of information. All he wanted to do was go home, take a warm shower, and crawl into bed before he'd even think about making a decision.

"Really hope you'll join the team," Coach said. "I like the team we have now. Trading for a goalie this late in the season would be a waste, and I'd probably have to give up one of my key players for a decent one."

"I agree," Jason added. "We've worked hard all year to make sure all the pieces were in place. We're finally starting to play to our strengths, and it'd suck to break the team apart because of injuries."

Was that the reason they wanted him on their team? Because they didn't want to pull their team apart to trade for a goalie? Because they wanted to keep Valdez in the AHL to develop further? Was it even about him?

"I'll think about it," he said, and it was all he could say. He couldn't commit, not yet. He needed a warm meal, a clear head, and time to weigh the pros and cons.

"I guess I'll hear about it tomorrow," Coach said. "For now, go home. Good job today." He turned a corner and looked over his shoulder. "Grace, I'll see you at noon sharp."

"Yes, Coach," Grace said, before pushing the door to the locker room open.

The locker room was empty, the stalls all cleaned out, save for the bag hanging in Grace's stall. "You ready to go?" Grace asked, shouldering his bag.

Nico nodded, and picked up his hockey bag, which had been standing by the door, packed and ready, courtesy of Hudson. "More than ready. I don't think I've ever been this tired."

He followed Grace through the hallways again, this time coming out in a private section of the parking lot.

"Where's your car?" Grace asked, coming to a stop at a shiny black BMW.

Nico laughed. "I don't have one," he said. "I'll just take a bus home. There's a stop a couple blocks from my building."

"You're going to carry that giant bag around town? At this hour?" Grace shook his head and grabbed around in his bag. The car beeped and the trunk popped open when he came up with the car keys. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride."

"The smell's gonna be in your car forever," Nico said, jostling his hockey bag. "It's fine."

Grace shrugged. "Been meaning to get it detailed anyway. Come on, it's getting close to midnight. It'll be faster."

Nico couldn't beat that logic; being home sooner and not having to lug his heavy bag all the way to his apartment was a big plus. He nodded and lifted his bag into the trunk.

When he sat down in the passenger seat, Grace smiled at him. Nico noticed he was wearing glasses; stylish black ones that complemented his face. This Grace, the one in the suit and glasses, looked kinder than Captain Grace, all decked out in hockey gear.

"I need them to drive. Don't worry, I'm not that blind," Grace said, before starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot. "Where to?"

"Just keep following Broad Street north. I'll tell you when to turn," Nico said. "And… Thanks."

He wasn't sure what he was thanking Grace for; for the ride home; for putting his faith in him on the ice; for supporting the higher-ups when they'd offered him a deal. Maybe it was all three.

As Grace pulled onto Broad Street, Nico couldn't help but feel nervous. He had a big decision to make, one that could potentially alter the course of his life, for better or worse. If anything, he was terrified.

He just hoped he'd make the right choice.

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