We were back in play in mere moments. Gauthier got the puck again. He fired it off to me.
My first touch of the game, and the puck met my tape like the two were magnetized.
I took it up the ice, flying as fast as I could.
The Kings’ defenders were gaining on me. But I still had a split second.
I crossed the blue line and fired straight to Hewitt.
Time slowed, and I could see the hit before it came.
The Kings’ right defence changed direction on a dime and dropped his shoulder, slamming into Hewitt like he was a bull charging a matador.
Hewitt bounced off him. He hit the ice hard. But he tucked his head in, protecting it, and slid across the surface. His stick spun away from him.
Gauthier scooped up the puck and passed to me.
Hewitt scrambled up to retrieve his stick.
My elbow high, I fired at the net.
Pads met the puck, and the Kings’ centre took the rebound from their goalie. He tore up the ice.
But Minns was there, intercepting him.
He dropped down onto a knee and hit their centre head-on. There was no way to avoid the collision.
The Kings’ centre somersaulted, and Minns caught the puck with the edge of his blade.
He passed to Cohen. Cohen hit it back to me.
We were pulled from the ice, our second line over the boards barely a second after we’d crossed.
LA got the puck, and a few mistimed moves by Minns and Cohen had me holding my breath.
“Come on, Minns,” I yelled in encouragement, even though he’d never hear it over the roar of the crowd.
Their left forward slapped a high shot at goal, and Rune effortlessly batted it away.
Kuznetsov—Kuzie—was having a killer night. He, Rossi, and Dupont on our third line were dominating the Kings’ defencemen. Their passes were perfection, and within seconds they had the puck over the blue line and were edging closer to the net.
Dupont fired a bullet at Rossi.
He passed to Kuzie.
Our left wing deked it, and he saw nothing but net.
I held my arms up and screamed, cheering for my teammates. The buzzer went, and it shook the stands, the noise so loud, my ears rang.
They’d done it. We were up by two.
Our third line came off, and we were back on, skating as if our lives depended on it. The rest of the first period was the same—hard hits, plenty of chances to score for both teams, but not a single one of theirs found the net. Rune, our goalie, was on fire.
But our two-point lead wasn’t enough.
The Kings were playing dirty, taking every chance to hit deep. Their defence was brutal, smashing us against the boards whenever they could. We were all breathing hard when the buzzer for the first period went and we skated off the ice.
Coach changed things around after that, dropping Minns to third line and putting Cohen back with Agosta. They were a team, as close-knit as they came, and we needed the strength out there. It wasn’t that Minns wasn’t good enough, but losing Mironov and the almost telepathic communication they had was leaving us too exposed.
