The Road to the Cup ~ Wattys 2015

And...

HE SCORES!!!!!! The air horn sounded and the guys came together in a relieved, celebratory circle to the left of the goal. But it wasn't over yet. We had tied the game with seconds left and as long as we kept San Jose from scoring for these few precious seconds, we'd be able to fight again in a sudden death over time.

I caught Sidney's attention and we grinned at each other; neither of us were ready to be done yet. "Let's go, boys!" I yelled. Fleury climbed over the boards and positioned himself in the cage, determination etched on his face. The referee skated to center ice with the puck in hand. I stopped breathing as it fell to the ice. The two men at center ice jousted for it and sent it back into the Sharks' territory. The buzzer sounded and I exhaled; we would continue to fight.

"Hey! Fall in! We've only got a few seconds, but I wanted to talk to all of you," I said and the guys crowded around. "Do you want this more than they do?"

"Yeah!"

"Are you going to fight for it?"

"Yeah!"

"Do you want to play for the cup?"

"Yeah!"

"Then get your asses out there and prove it!" I shouted. Sid's line stepped back out onto the ice and set up for the face off. I shot a glance at Geno to see if he was as nervous as I was. He was calm, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. I could tell that he was itching to be out there helping his team; he wanted to win and he was incredibly nervous watching and not being able to do anything.

Sidney won the face off and we played keep away for a solid minute before San Jose cleared the puck. It resulted in an icing call and we were right back in Shark territory, which was where we wanted to be. We turned over the puck and I hissed with displeasure. "Bad timing, boys," I muttered as I watched San Jose advance on my goalie. Ian Cole caught up with the two forwards and covered one of them so Fleury could focus on the other. He came down for a slap shot and Fleury's arm was up in a flash. The ref blew the whistle to stop play; Fleury had caught it.

"Nice one, Flower!" Geno called.

"Minute and a half," Johnston whispered to me and handed me a folded piece of paper, "Don't open it unless we need it."

"Will we need it?" I asked.

He stared at me, searching for something, "I would rather we didn't, but probably."

"What is it, your resignation?" I joked.

"Ha ha, very funny, Fitzpatrick. I guess you'll have to wait and see."

"That's not fun, Mike," I muttered, but tucked the sheet into my pocket.

We cleared the puck with thirty seconds left on the clock. It was still three to three. I could feel each second tick by as we waited for the game winning goal, but it never came. The buzzer sounded at the end of overtime, signaling a shoot out.

"Erin, you should open that paper now," Johnston said. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It read: Crosby, Perron, Lapierre, Kunitz, Cole, Bennett.

"Is this the order you gave them?" I asked Mike.

"I haven't given it to them, that's up to you, so if you have changes to make, I would get to that," he replied.

He was letting me make the decision for the shoot out? That was a lot of responsibility. I examined the list again and tried to think of stats only. Clearly, that's what Mike had done when drafting it, because I wouldn't have written it in a different order. I nodded and handed it to the official who was glaring at me, impatience clear in his eyes.