Triumph {The Manhattan Trilogy #3}

Cup (NT)

"Oh God," my sister says quietly, running her hands over her pads. She is sweating, and I can tell it's because of a lot more than the warm-ups the team has just gone through.

"What's wrong?" I ask her from my stall, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"Everything," South Tower sighs. "I know it's not good to be nervous before a big game, but I can't just pretend like we're not facing possible elimination from the Smithson Cup Finals tonight."

"It's true that we could lose it all tonight," I tell her calmly. "I don't think we will, though. This is a special team, South Tower. We have what it takes to win this series. I saw it during morning practice, and I think I'll see it during tonight's game."

South Tower nods. "I've seen it too. Yeah, we can do this thing."

"Alright, everybody!" Our coach, Robert Morrison, yells. "There's ten minutes until the opening puck drop in Game 5. Lackawanna leads this series three games to one, which means that if we lose this game tonight, we lose the Smithson Cup. We didn't come all this way with the best record in the league to exit the playoffs now. Did we?"

"No!" The team cheers in unison. A couple people even let out loud boos.

"Damn right we didn't!" Morrison shouts. "We didn't come here to lose at all! I believe that this team can come back and win the Smithson Cup that we deserve!"

The team erupts in more cheers. I quickly lead the "C-A-P-S" chant before getting in the front of the line, ready to bring my team out onto the ice at the Marsh & McLennan Sports Arena.

Less than a minute later, we hear the announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your ALBANY CAPITALS!"

The cheer that comes from the fans is the loudest cheer I've ever heard in my life. I begin skating around the ice as my teammates follow me. Since this could be our final game of the season, we all skate out together instead of the starting lineup going out one by one.

I skate around the ice as the lights flash around me, thinking about the importance of tonight's game. My sister and I have only just come back to hockey after ten years of retirement. It's our first season back, and we've already made the Smithson Cup Finals. Only two teams remain in the playoffs out of a total of sixteen, and my team is one of them.

I can't lose now.

A jolt of energy passes through my heart, and I can barely stand still during the national anthem. When it is time for me to take the opening faceoff, I almost get thrown out of the faceoff circle for going too quick.

The game starts off intense. No one wants the puck to be stolen from them, so there are hits, checks, and fights everywhere. We end up scoring the first goal of the game, and that really sets everything in motion for the rest of the game.

Our team is relentless. Our team does not give up. We win, six goals to three, cutting our series deficit in half. If we win one more game, we can tie the series and force a seventh game.

We go into game six ready to kick some ass. The fans that have come all the way from Albany to Lackawanna to see us play hold up signs saying "Albany Pest Control: Kills 100% of YELLOW JACKETS!" We all know that we are once again ready to make the fans' claims true.

Our combined effort is enough to help us pull through the entire sixty minutes of Game 6 is strong enough to give us a 6-2 win against the Lackawanna Yellow Jackets, a win that ties the series and forces a Game 7 in Albany.

My team practically runs off the ice, screaming and cheering the entire way to the dressing room. We're all dancing, jumping, giving each other high fives, or anything else that shows our joy and excitement about still being in the Smithson Cup Finals after having a dangerous 3-1 deficit in the series.

As we change out of our sweaty equipment, I turn to Mohammed. "Hey, Fartmuncher, what do you think about this? We just tied the series. The next game is winner-takes-all!"

"I would be nervous, but I don't think we'll lose the seventh game," Mohammed explains. "This group doesn't give up. With the way we've played games and worked together as a team during this season, there's no way we're giving up now of all times."

We have to wait three days to see if Mohammed's prediction is right, but Wednesday does roll around eventually.

My husband and I walk into the arena together, hand in hand. Before he goes to his seat, he stops me. "North Tower, do you think that you guys are going to win it all tonight?"

I think for a moment before giving him my answer. "Yes, I do. I think we can and I think we will."

"Good to hear," he pulls me in close and gives me a short peck on the lips. "I love you. I can't wait to join you at center ice when you raise the Cup!"

"I love you too," I whisper to him. "I'll see you after the third period."

I don't see him after the third period. I don't see him after the fourth or fifth either. The game is still tied over four and a half hours after the opening puck drop, and the third overtime period is quickly approaching.

"I'm so nervous," my youngest teammate, Jamison Eklund, massages his head. "I don't want our season to end in overtime."

"Then don't let it end in overtime, kid," his older brother Isaac pats his shoulder.

"We're going to win this thing tonight," I sit up straighter.

My words come true seven minutes and forty seconds into the third overtime. My sister sends a long pass in the direction of Mohammed al-Hashim. He catches the puck, does a clean swerve around the Lackawanna defenseman, and backhands it to me.

I send the puck flying past the shoulder of the Yellow Jackets goaltender, and it goes into the net.

The game is over, and the Smithson Cup is ours.

I throw my gloves and helmet to the ice and throw myself into the glass like my life depends on it. My teammates take the hint and rush towards me at top speed.

We won. The whole team is realizing it now. We won. We are champions.

I lean into the group hug that my teammates have formed around me. Their euphoria is contagious, and I let out an excited laugh.

I can't believe it.

In my first season back from ten years of retirement from hockey, my team has won the championship.