Ice Time (19 page)

The penalty-killing defenceman pinched, and all the winger could do was knife it off the wall and down the ice. Rocket thought it might be icing, but Jackson didn’t call it. It was only practice, after all. He backchecked hard and had reached his blue line by the time his defenceman had collected the puck.

For a second, Rocket contemplated a quick break up-ice for a long stretch pass.

That was definitely old-Rocket thinking.

He was killing a penalty. A twenty-metre pass up the middle of the ice, when they had an easy chance to ice the puck, was plain dumb.

Rogers had taken the top zone to the right. Rocket decided to support his defenceman by setting up in the high slot instead. It proved a good decision: the defenceman slipped him the puck to avoid a forechecker. Rocket slid it to Rogers, who calmly slapped it down the ice.

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“Okay, this isn’t going all that well,” Jackson said. “Forwards, you’re not moving your feet, and that leaves the defencemen stranded with the puck. One guy is basically shutting you down. You have to be moving all the time, curling to present yourself for a pass, and then you attack as a unit once you gain the neutral zone.” Jackson leaned on her stick. “Let’s switch the power play up. Give me Rogers on right wing and Downey on left. And Bryan, you take centre.” Jackson pointed at two other players. “You take over the penalty kill up front.”

She took the puck on her stick. “I won’t try it again. I’m not feeling it.” She shot the puck the length of the ice, into the left corner. It caromed behind the net, and the goalie trapped it for his defenceman.

Rocket had spent so much time thinking about defence, it was weird to switch gears and focus on scoring. He felt good, though. He’d shown off a bit of his new defensive skills. Hopefully Jackson had noticed.

The defenceman held the puck. Rocket curled behind the net, and the defenceman shovelled the puck forward. Rocket had to take it up the ice himself.

He continued up the right side. Rogers was at the far blue line. Downey was cutting across the ice, from left to right. The forechecker was a bit slow coming across. Rocket didn’t hesitate. He pushed hard and evaded the forechecker’s outstretched stick. Then he cut left to put space between himself and Downey. Rogers headed across the blue line to the left side.

Rocket crossed the red line. He glanced back ever so slightly and noticed his left defenceman close behind. Rocket dropped the puck and kept going. Just as he hit the blue line, the puck was dumped into the left corner — perfect timing. Rocket got there first. He snapped a pass behind the net to Downey, who trapped it at the half-boards on the right.

The opposing defenceman followed through with a hit — a real hit — on Rocket, but Rocket was ready and it didn’t hurt. Most important, his head and his neck didn’t hurt. It felt good, actually, like he was finally playing again.

Downey gave it to his right defenceman and went down low to the right of the net. Rogers set up in front. Rocket took Downey’s spot by the boards. The puck slid across the blue line and ended up on Rocket’s stick. He gave it to the point, who passed it right back.

“Make something happen, Power Play,” Jackson yelled. “Move around.”

Rocket brought the puck close to his left foot with the tip of his blade, ducked his left shoulder and then exploded to his right, flicking the puck over the stick of the penalty killer. He felt a slash on the back of his leg as he cut into the high slot. It hurt, but he didn’t care. They had an overload, basically four against three.

Rogers established himself in front of the goalie. The goalie crouched low and peered around him from the left. Rocket had a lot of choices: a short pass to the defenceman on the right side, a pass down low to Downey on the same side, or a shot himself.

He angled his body sideways, puck on his forehand, faked a shot, faked a pass to the defenceman and then saucered a pass to Downey. The goalie dropped to his butterfly and slid toward Downey. Downey surprised Rocket by saucering the puck right back. It was a perfectly placed pass about two metres from the goal line.

Rocket had played too much hockey to even have to think about what to do next. With Rogers still screening the goalie, Rocket snapped a wicked wrister to the top corner. The goalie flung out his blocker. Too late.

The players on the bench banged the boards with their sticks, and Jackson blew her whistle.

“That was nice. Good puck movement,” Jackson said. “All five guys touched the puck — quick passes and active feet. Turner, good net presence. Love it. We need guys paying the price. Bryan, nice shot.”

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“Give me the puck,” she said to the goalie.

He dug the puck out of his net.

“I feel lucky,” she said. “I’m going to have a run at it!” The goalie at the far end slapped his stick on the ice and moved aside. Jackson pulled the puck back and let it fly. The puck flew high in the air — and landed about three metres in front of the net. The goalie slid over and saved it with his pads.

Jackson slapped the ice with her stick. “That sucked. I wasn’t focused.” She looked up. “Power-play unit, I just iced the puck. You guys want to set up?”

Rocket laughed. Then he slapped his wingers’ pads and took off.

He was ready for the next play.

“Go, Giants, go! Go, Giants, go!”

The crowd had been cheering and clapping to the beat of the organ since the warm-up. Rocket was a bit surprised, considering the team’s record.

“They’re a bit crazed tonight,” Rocket said to Rogers, as they cruised across the red line.

“It’s free pizza slice night,” Rogers said.

“Let’s pretend they love us,” Rocket said, laughing.

“Bring it, boys!” Downey yelled. He slapped his stick on the ice and set off on a mad dash around the rink.

Rocket and Rogers let out a cheer. Rocket had already done a few laps, but he was still so energized, he felt ready to blast off into outer space.

The siren sounded, and Rocket coasted to the bench. The crowd rose to its feet, and the national anthem started. Rocket couldn’t stop hopping from foot to foot, like his feet were on fire. It felt like forever since he’d played.

“How long have you been dancing professionally?” Rogers asked him.

“I’m too nervous. It’s been so long, it feels like I’ve never played before,” Rocket said.

“Well, that’s the blue line,” Downey said. “I’ll explain the red line later. I don’t want to confuse you.”

“This is our chance,” Rocket said. “Coach Jackson thinks we’re three kids. We’ve got to show her we’re only here for a quick visit. We’re heading to the big club.”

“I like your thinking,” Downey said. He whacked Rocket’s shin pads with his stick.

The play was fairly wide open at first. Jackson was on them to calm down and take better care with the puck. Their goalie had to bail them out a few times. Rocket was happy with his first three shifts. He’d had a shot on goal, and for the most part, the play had been in the offensive zone. He took a sip of water. The ref whistled the play dead in the Giants’ end.

“Rockwood’s line out,” Jackson ordered.

Rocket hopped over the boards. Faceoff was to the goalie’s right. The opposing centre, number 12, was already there. Rocket had read up on him. He’d been in the league a long time.

“So they’re sending in the young guns,” number 12 said. “Isn’t this a little late for you? It must be bedtime.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to retire already, old man. You’re never going to make the NHL now,” Rocket quipped.

The centre grunted. “Everyone’s got a big mouth. You’ve been in the league how long? Like an hour? No respect for the game.”

Rocket knew he’d gone too far. He hadn’t shown the guy the respect he deserved. “Not true,” he said quickly, tapping the centre’s shin pads. “Much respect here. Have a good one.”

He hunched over the dot.

“Hard one, Rocket,” Rogers said.

Rocket nodded ever so slightly. That was their signal for a faceoff play.

The puck dropped. Rocket chipped it to the right. Rogers cut inside the circle and took it in full stride. Rocket slipped past the centre, brushing against his left shoulder, and took a short backhand pass. The opposing defencemen backed up furiously to keep the play in front of them.

Rocket took the puck across the blue line and fed Downey cross-ice, and then Downey one-timed it to Rogers on the right side.

They were on a three-on-two.

Barker had always been on Rocket about taking unnecessary chances to try to score. Rocket’s time away from the game, which he’d spent learning everything he could about defence, had taught him the truth — a great player also knows when to take a risk. He’d learned that at this level, when it was time to go for it, you gave it everything you had.

Rogers cut inside. Rocket crossed behind him. He didn’t even look. He knew Rogers would deliver. A metre from the blue line, the puck was on his stick. He pushed to the outside. The left defenceman held his stick out to angle Rocket into the boards. Rocket accelerated, then leapt into the air as the defenceman threw a hip check. He caught a piece of Rocket’s leg. Rocket bounced into the boards, but the impact didn’t knock him down. He landed on both skates, stumbled slightly and regained his balance. The puck was in his feet. He kicked it to his stick.

“Rocket!” Rogers yelled.

Rocket backhanded a pass to Rogers at the top of the circle. The left defenceman veered over to pressure the puck. Downey stormed into the zone from the left wing, although he was being checked closely by the right winger. Rogers waited for the left defenceman to commit to him, and then he slid a pass back to Rocket near the faceoff dot to the goalie’s left. The shot was open — but Rocket had a better idea. The winger covering Downey kept coming into the zone. Downey had cleverly slowed up and was open. Rocket waited to freeze the goalie and then he rifled a pass across the zone to Downey, who one-timed a slapper on goal.

Ping!

The puck nicked the crossbar and deflected into the netting.

“Brutal,” Rocket groaned.

Rocket went to the faceoff dot to set up. Number 12 looked mad, probably irritated at himself for letting a rookie make him look bad. Rocket didn’t kid himself. This next faceoff would be tough to win outright. Number 12 was a real pro, and he’d been doing this a long time.

“Be sharp,” Rocket said, calling the play.

Downey bounced his stick on the ice. He got it: Rocket would try to tie the centre up. Then Downey would come across and steal the puck.

“The young guns are hungry for goals,” number 12 said.

The young guns.
Rocket liked it. “We’re just here to win, same as you,” he said.

“Good luck,” the centre said. He almost seemed to mean it.

Then the puck dropped. And Rocket and the young guns brought it.

The camera lights flashed. Rocket had to turn away and blink a few times.

“What do you think will be the key to winning?” a voice called out.

Rocket wasn’t sure which reporter had asked the question. There were too many of them, and the lights made it hard to see their faces.

“We have to play our game and not get caught up in the hype,” he said.

“Aren’t you nervous? How do you deal with the pressure?” the reporter pressed him.

“That’s not easy,” Rocket admitted. “Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve dreamed of being here, of being in this situation. I guess every kid who’s ever laced up a pair of hockey skates has had the same dream. I’m lucky enough to live it. I think about that, and the nerves go away.”

“But you’ve had bad luck, too. You didn’t have it easy getting here. Weren’t you cut from your minor bantam team?” another reporter said.

The reporters laughed.

“The coach said I was too small — and maybe I am,” Rocket said to further laughter.

“No, really,” the reporter said, and she came closer. Rocket suddenly recognized her. It was Rita Martin, the same reporter who’d interviewed him at his first NHL training camp. Hard to believe that was five years ago.

“You were a low draft pick in junior,” Martin said. “The last round, in fact, and you were a low pick in the NHL draft. You were sent to the Pinewood Racers in the AHL, then traded after a few games to the Tennison Giants. Five years later, you’re in the Stanley Cup finals — against the same team that traded you, no less — on one of the best lines in hockey. It must seem like a miracle now. But back then, did you ever think of quitting?”

He let his mind wander back.

“There were times when I thought, ‘Rocket, this isn’t going to happen.’ When the Racers traded me, I was battling a neck injury. My future was uncertain, and I was close to quitting the game and getting a job. My family needed the money. But then I lucked out with the Giants. They gave me a chance, and it paid off for both of us.”

“Is that your message to kids — never quit?” Martin said.

“I’d say it’s important to have a dream,” Rocket said. “But it’s also important to have lots of dreams. And you have to be prepared to work for them. I said it was luck that got me here, but it also took a lot of hard work and sacrifice. Sometimes, you need to take a step back and ask yourself if it’s worth it, and the answer will be different for everyone.”

“You grew up without much money,” Martin said. “I’ve heard that you’ve used some of your salary to buy your mom a new house and pay for your sister’s med school. Was that also a dream of yours?”

“Absolutely. They’ve supported me and my dream for so long; it’s been great to help them out.” He’d also convinced Ritchie and Mariana to accept a loan. They were both going back to school so they could get better jobs.

“And you’ve paid for your own education,” Martin stated.

“That’s right. I’ve been taking online university courses for a while now. I should have my degree in another year or so. I think my mom cares more about that than hockey — or the house.”

That got a chuckle from the reporters.

“I came to realize that getting an education was like having a plan B,” Rocket went on. “I guess that’s my message to kids: don’t put all your eggs in the hockey basket. If you get injured, or don’t make it for whatever reason, an education gives you options.” He thought of Rory. His knee had blown out again, and that was it. He’d had a really hard time for a while, but now he was an assistant coach in the AHL.