NHL Short Stories

cold malfunction - matthew boldy

WC: 2775

Beauty of a pass, beauty of a goal.

"Yeah!!!" Everyone on the second line exclaimed as we all huddled in the corner by the boards to celebrate the goal scored by our line's very own Marcus Johansson, who really found his spark from being traded away from Washington and found his way back with the Wild. Not tooting my own horn or anything (okay, I am), but I'm pretty sure I helped find it, especially since I've got a new seven year contract to live up to, and he definitely saved my ass from Billy G's scary and unpredictable tactics.

This second line really has stepped up since our best winger and sniper, Kirill Kaprizov, went down in Winnipeg with a lower body injury against the Jets' Logan Stanley. With Kirill expected to be out at least for three to four weeks, some players need to step out of Kirill's shadow and score some goals for us, since that happens a lot, and more than it should be, when Kirill's on the ice.

On Marcus's goal, I got an assist, only tallying up more points on my record. Calen Addison was the other player who got the other assist. We also were now leading the Seattle Kraken two-one.

We all skated over to the bench and high-fived the players on the bench, then we all headed to the neutral face-off circle for Frédérick Gaudreau to take it for our line.

"Nice goal buddy," I told Marcus as we skated out to neutral ice.

He smiled, looking like he was higher than a stoner on his eighth joint of marijuana. "Thanks, Matt. I didn't expect it to go in," he chuckled, then we broke to our sides of Freddy, Marcus on the right wing, and myself on the left.

—

"Guess fucking what?!" Coach Dean Evason yelled after his post-game shpeel about how we played in the game, and this yelling sounded happy and genuinely excited, something out of the ordinary for Dean, it almost made me worried.

The locker room when dead silent, then Coach Darby had to ruin it with a cough. Ah, but I love ya, Darbs.

"We're in first for the Central Division!" Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, and the locker room suddenly exploded in excitement. This was the first time the Wild were the front runners in their division, and hopefully it stayed like that. I for sure would like to see another division banner hanging at the Xcel Energy Center, but that mission can only be accomplished if we all play like how we've been playing with Kirill out. Maybe we all realized our worth when our best player, both on and off the ice, isn't on the ice and we can't rely on him for everything.

"Just one point above the Stars. Let's expand that gap," Dean added. "Have a night. Get some rest, enjoy the day off, and I'll see you on Sunday for practice," he said, then walked off and out of the locker room for media and post-game interviews.

I took my skates off, untying the white laces scattered in black dots and slipped them off.

"How are things going with you and um..." Brandon Duhaime asked as he slipped his shoulder pads off and hung them in his locker. "Peyton?"

I glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. "What's it to you?" I asked, taking off my sock tape, hearing that fantastic rip. "We're doing good, if that's what you're wondering,"

Brandon gleamed, his bright, flashy, and even annoying smile blinding my eyes. "Kaylee was wondering," he said, and I wondered if this was just some bullshit lie so he can be nosy about my personal and dating life. Not that it should matter, I sure as hell have been leaning away from his relationship from Kaylee, since it's none of my business.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, 'Kaylee was wondering,' not like I've heard that before," I responded in a low mutter, slipping my breezers off and hanging them up in the locker.