New Years Gift

The glare from the January sun forced Karl Alzner to rock oakley sunglasses during the first period. New Year's Day was blessed with warm weather, but clouds of breath still rose throughout the ballpark. The trophy deprived city needed a sense of hope. The trash talking, board rattling, and high flying 2015 Bridgestone Winter Classic became an instant classic as soon as the final horn sounded. Time was running out in the game between the Washington Capitals, and the defending Stanely Cup Champions, the Chicago Blackhawks. The score deadlocked: 2-2. Seat and seat cushion folded up, fingers rattling, and eyes closed, I prayed to the hockey gods.
The gods responded when the refs charged Jonathan Toews with hooking. He would have to spend the final minute and thirteen seconds of regulation, and the first 47 seconds of overtime in the penalty box. A soft call in a penalty filled game. Joel Quenneville, the Blackhawks coach, agreed with me; however, he slurs were washed away in “Let’s go Caps” chants. Time ticked closer and closer to triple zeros as the Blackhawks cleared the puck. The Capitals had time for one last rush. Alex Ovechkin picked up the puck near mid-ice, and carried it into the offensive zone. A buzz rippled through National Bank Park. Ovechkin lifted his Bauer MX3 and ripped. But his stick snapped in half before it ever touched the ice. Ovechkin threw his arms in the air. The Capitals bench threw their arms in the air. The fans in red threw their arms in the air. And finally, the ref lifted his arm to signal a penalty on Brent Seabrook, a Blackhawks defenseman, for slashing. There was a split second of silence. Then, pandemonium. All at once, the crowd saw the puck lying in the back of the net. The sea of red shook the stadium. Troy Brouwer had taken advantage of the confusion. He had found the puck, spun around, and snapped it between Joey Crawford’s glove and thigh with twelve point nine seconds to go. Jumping and using the last of my non existent voice, I waved my red Capitals beanie above my head. Everybody was hugging and high-fiving each other, no one wearing red was a stranger. Tens of thousands of seat cushions rained down from the sky like angels floating down from heaven. I grabbed my seven year old cousin and lifted him like Simba. I then spun around and leapt into my best friend’s arms. Water was thrown into the air like champagne, and the hollars ricocheted around the park.
The referee dropped the puck one last time. Andrew Shaw of the Blackhawks flung the puck towards the net in desperation, but Braden Holtby, the goalie, knocked the careening puck aside with his left pad. Patrick Kane came flying towards the net. He recovered the soft rebound and flicked his wrists, but Holtby’s lighting quick glove snagged it out of the air and threw it aside. The final horn sounded.
 The three stars and the game MVP were awarded as the after party proceeded. No one had left the building. The Capitals fans eventually meandered to the exits. Chants of C-A-P-S CAPS! CAPS! CAPS! reverberated around the cement tunnels. The celebration proceed onto the streets and sidewalks. Cars honked, people hollered, and high fives spread like a disease throughout ‘The District.’