Hub City Horrors (Diary of the 2020 Stanley Cup Playoffs)

Yanni Gourde's Diary: Saturday, August 15, 2020

Toronto, Canada

Eastern Conference, Hotel X

Well, as you'd expect after a five overtime game win, we were feeling the fatigue from it a little. Game two was difficult, but we felt much better coming into game three. We lost game two to the Blue Jackets, but recovered to win game three.

And now we're heading into game four, which will be on Monday.

I walk by an open door and glimpse inside to see Tony Cirelli, Johnny, Pally and Mathieu Joseph all gathered around the desk with the TV on it. They are arguing and Jo has something on his head. I shake my head, not bothering myself with that crap.

At the end of the hallway, Killer, Kuch and Pointer are grouped together discussing strategy. I can just pick up little details about attacking the Blue Jackets, storming the net, covering Dubois, getting around and tiring out Seth Jones.

I'm shocked Killer is talking about it, but I know Kuch and Pointer never have an offday during the season.

I can't deal with it, I need to get away from the hotel, so I head down the elevator and into the lobby.

As soon as the doors open, I'm greeted by five Bruins.

"Good afternoon," one of them, a brunette man with thick eyebrows, stylized dark brown hair and deep warm amber brown eyes (Patrice Bergeron), greets, while the other four give me dirty glares.

I recognize all of them, I mean how could one not. There's one that looks like the human version of a rat with a massive nose on his face, too distinguishable to not know who he is. (Brad Marchand) There is another one that is short and has a head of luscious brown waves. (Torey Krug) There's also a messy light brown haired man (David Pastrnak) and an average height, chubby faced light brunette with thick shaped eyebrows (Charlie McAvoy).

"You gonna move and get off OUR elevator, Lightning Bolt?" Marchand snarls at me.

I blink. Bruin thinks he owns the elevator and can order me around. "Marchand, might I suggest not picking a fight that you'll easily lose?"

Marchand narrows his eyes at me. "Like you'd win a fight against me?"

"You can barely win against a depleted Hurricanes team," I laugh. "Nice try though." I walk out of the elevator and past him, splitting them through the middle. I have no worry or care. They can't hurt me in the hotel.

"Watch your back, Gourde!" McAvoy taunts from the elevator.

I hear the doors closing behind me and I snort. I walk around the corner and run right into a bright orange shirted man. Before I can recover or react, I am yanked up and wrapped up in a tight embrace.

"What are you doing down here?" a voice sneers in my ear.

"Get off of me," I laugh, shoving at the arm around my neck.

I see now that I've run into a pack of four Philadelphia Flyers.

"Greetings, Gourde," the one I ran into, I now easily recognize as the captain of the Flyers, Claude Giroux. "What brings you down into the lobby alone?"

"Stretching my legs," I grunt back to him.

"That's a lie," the voice snaps near my ear. I realize it belongs to ex-Lightning defenseman Radko Gudas.

Behind Giroux, I see Jakob Voracek and Travis Konecny rubbing their hands together enticingly.

"Scouting for pranks?"

Konency snorts with a roll of his eyes. "Probable, but still not buying it." He pauses and comes forward to round Gudas and I. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was here to spy on us...we all know you cocky Tampa bastards are going to get matched up against us after this is over. It's just destiny for us to meet up."

I glare at him and shove at Gudas' hold on me again.

"TK, shut up!" a new voice snaps.

I hear someone coming up to us. Then I see a rather tall, skinny, light brown, spiky, short-haired man come up to Giroux. He's wearing a simple black polo shirt with the Flyers' logo on it as well as a pair of black and white striped golfer shorts.

"Pitty," Konency snarls. "What have we told your fourth liner ass about disrupting the captain's shenanigans?"

Pitty glares at him and shoves Konency to the side. Then he helps me out with unwinding Gudas' tough grasp off.

As soon as I get free, I shove Gudas away with a sharp shove. "Next time pick on someone your own size!"

Pitty grabs my hand and we storm off from the stunned Flyers. I see Giroux tap his chin in thought and then turn and gossip with his buddies.

"You didn't have to do that, I had things under--" I yank my hand free from his and halt in place.

He stops and spins to me. "You were in a chokehold by Radko Gudas. It's okay. I saw the whole thing and I hate when they assume crap just because our two teams might have a little rivalry...but it's no excuse to grab someone around the neck like that."

"True. Thanks then, I guess."

"Tyler Pitlick is the name."

"Yanni Gourde," I reply.

He nods and we continue to walk through the vast lobby and into one of the side hallways that leads to a private sauna area for the hotel. We make it no more than a few steps before we're greeted by more voices.

"Ovi, what's going on here? It's a lost Flyer and Lightning Bolt," one of them sneers.

We halt in place and spin around to see six identically dressed Washington Capitals players blocking the entrance to the hallway. They all have towels draped around their arms. There's a familiar graying haired Russian in the front, leading them.

"Ovi, Wilson, Oshie, Holtby, Kuzy, Backy, what a nice surprise," Pitty remarks, terror emanating from his voice.