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Z0REM · 11-13-2019, 02:30 PM

(2334 Words, Ready for grading)

The buzzer sounded and it was a sweet peal of relief for the team. The first thing that washed over me was the idea that the grind was finally over. Last season was a mix of emotions for us as rookies, so I wasn’t sure what I would feel after winning my second cup. I can tell you that my first thoughts after the initial calm was basically a throw up of emotions. I did not know what to think of besides jumping over that barrier and rushing our 5 guys on the ice. They held our fort to the end of the game and it was thanks to them that the scoreboard read 5-3 Krakens. Tom Fiddler, Michael Fitted, Herry Morris IV, Conrad Farell, and Wyatt Ruschkoff were already huddled together on the far boards screaming and crying. I get up and just rush at them screaming at the top of my lungs “YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARDS, I LOVE THIS TEAM!” In my peripheral vision I know that the team is right alongside with me, but it is like a dark tunnel that is leading me straight to the dogpile that is quickly forming.

Let me tell you what a victory dogpile feels like. It is this place where there is an absence of self. If you are in the center you are crushed, gasping for air and relief even as you throw yourself and look for the nearest person. You try to envelop everyone in a hug as a team that has struggled together tried to do away with all self-identity and squish themselves into one formless mass. Just as much as you want it to end, you want it to continue for forever so that you don’t know where you end and where the next person begins. It is the quietest loudest moment you have ever been in, and for some reason you cannot get enough sound out of your throat to make it as loud as you want it to be. At some point your eyes are clouded by sweat and tears and you go blind as a bat, but at the same moment you have never seen more clearly. As soon as it has begun, you hear the refs starting to pull you all apart because the show must go on and you realize that moment has been an indefinitely long time.

We line up to shake the other teams hands, the looks in some of their eyes are hungry. We might have won again this season, but they know that it was a close game and that all that separates us from them next season is that first game of the season. There is an air of challenge as well as one of congratulations. Handshakes are hard and the camaraderie is strong. Some of us will be playing on the same team as each other one day and this is just the juniors. There is still a greater glory to be obtained. The opposing team leaves the ice and for the first time tonight we are alone on the ice in front of our home team. Some might say that we had delayed winning and threw game 5 so we could come home and take it in front of our crowd and to that I say no. We do not throw games here, we try to win every day as hard as we won the day before. They roll out the red carpet and the 4 star cup makes its appearance. It is resplendent. From the distance I can see where our names were etched on last season. Some of those names are no longer with us, having finished their careers on a high point. Many of those names will get a repeat etching. We had talked about who would be the first one to hoist the cup. This season it had to be McMahon. He was a goalie who was new to our system this year and really helped us through our inconsistent times. He had our back and it allowed us to play aggressively. He was the first one to go and hoist the cup. Thinking back to last year, the team really looks at our goalies for inspiration. They are usually calmer and more collected than the rest of us hot heads, myself included. His game 5 performance was unusual, but we at Hrotch to back us up. Hrotch who is looking to be a fine franchise goalie of his own someday. The cup eventually gets handed to me and I take my turn around the ice, inciting our fans with a little bravado. I did not want to be first in line, it would have been an honor but I take my role as captain and mentor seriously. I will always do what brings the team up over what makes myself look better. I know my skills and before I was captain I was a piece of shit, but this year has humbled me. The team looked for me to lead and I was going to be the best leader they had ever had. We had no captain last year, so this was a year to set the bar. I hope they remember S50 of the Krakens. And S51… And S52… or however long our core group stays down and together. I know even after I am gone I will have my heart and soul on this ice.

As the on ice celebrations wind down and the three stars are called, all third year veterans, the kraken return to the locker room to continue celebrating a repeat and everyone had seemingly forgotten about Fitted's absence at the morning skate earlier that day. As the captain I certainly was trying to keep my head mentally in the game after game 5s loss. The team needed me to be strong, but it is not so hard when everyone on the team has really great heart. Sweet Caroline slowly faded out as it was the victory song we had all agreed upon and requested from management to be played if we won the cup, and amongst the cheering of our fans, a hooded figure makes its way into the locker room. Sweet Caroline fades in again, and it takes a moment for the team to notice the new person in the room. Neil Diamond's voice starts to build towards the chorus, and that's when the team notices. The cheering fades, the cameras have somehow disappeared from the room. In one fell swoop, the shroud falls and the chorus hits...from the corner of the room, Michael Fitted shouts the three words that will carry with the team for generations to come... “SWEEEEEEET TERRRY GUYYYYYYY” and we all answered him back “BUM BUM BUMMMMMMMMMM” and we whipped into a frenzy.

I think I can say that it was that moment that everything came rushing back to me. Every on ice frustration and feeling hit me all at once and I started laugh crying all over again. I was not the only one. Just as we are about the round our 10th chorus of Sweet Terry Guy, Fuzz comes from out of nowhere with our trainers and just starts popping bottles of champagne and just soaks us. So here I am, in my sweaty gear soaked in champagne drinking from whatever bottle is offered me, or pouring champagne into the 4 star cup and drinking it, or popping more bottles at teammates and it goes on and on and on. Fitted is yelling something about cocaine and hookers in the bathroom on me and half the squad follows him over there. Not quite sure what happened to that crew who went to the bathroom, but they rejoined us later before we all changed and went out to celebrate. I can probably tell you that there were no hookers in our bathroom knowing that was on the agenda for later. For the rest of us it was drunken speeches from Fuzz, who happens to be a lightweight, and random drawings of sloths and other shenanigans from players. At a certain point I had had enough and slowly directed the team that it was time to shower down and get ready for the rest of the night! I wanted to get out of that locker room.

So we showered. I am pretty sure that I saw fitted trying to take a shower in the cup somehow. He was putting arms and legs in there and scrubbing as if he was trying to get the cup win onto his very skin. He was pouring water on to himself and drinking shower water out of it. Typical Fitted things. It was a grand ol time. There was of course more booze in the shower room courtesy of our fans, and more cocaine. It’s great that we play hockey in America where cocaine is not illegal for hockey players! We played all sorts of games like knockover the kraken player, kraken curling, who can pee into the cup from farthest away… Just kidding… I think? It was a little hazy, but at least pee is sterile!

The first stop on this wild night was a karaoke bar. AS you can guess, the first song that we requested was Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. Much to the chagrin of the other patrons, we proceeded to sing the song and replaced Caroline with Terry Guy and only repeated that part of the song over and over again. A lot of these people did not know who we are. Hockey is not everyone’s favorite sport and if you were not watching the game you would not know that our team won. After one halfheaerted boo we left the stage to go make our second request. If you guessed it was Sweet Caroline you would be correct! The bar didn’t want to do it, but we managed to convince them by offering them some cocaine and money. So we went back out there for another roaring chorus of Sweet Terry GUUUUUUY! We are drinking beers and taking shots and I am starting to getting a little past tipsy. Which meant it was a good time to get out of here and do something with a bit more energy. We do one more round of cocaine, hit up some We are the Champions by Queen, kiss the bartenders goodbye, and leave that poor establishment for the night.

Second stop of the night, its dive bar time. We heard from the management that there was a watch party going on for people who couldn’t attend the game and that it was going on in full swing. Never to disappoint our fans, we decide to mosey on over with the cup. As soon as we walk into the packed bar and start screaming about victory and the cup the whole place lights up. Which means that the champagne was out again, Fitted was on a table immediately getting a chorus of Sweet Caroline going, and the rest of us go into schmooze and booze mode. We are taking photos, passing around the cup, drinking, and laughing for about an hour. There is a cute girl who passes me her number and pantomimes call me later. I folded that paper up and stuck it in my back pocket, I was sure that it would come in handy down the road. It’s 11:30 and the party is not stopping but it was time to roll on.
Third Stop of the night was club time. We go to a popular club in the area. Joseph Weston , Tom Fiddler, and Michael Fitted know the bouncer so they got permission to let us cut the front of the line with the cup. We raised that shit high amongst the cheers of the crowd. Even if they all had to wait out here a bit more, people are excited about winners. I am very drunk.

Lights flashing, bodies everywhere, music pulsing in my veins. Clear liquid, cocaine, clear liquid, more cocaine. More bodies. Faces. Names in, names out. Bathroom. Quiet…. I look at my face and I have this shit eating grin in this porcelain paradise. I breathe deep and then its back out. Strobing lights of every color. Purple, Red, green, purple, yellow. I look down and I am dancing, I blink and I am sitting at one of the booths talking to some teammates. Trance music, rap music, more booze. Cocaine. Cocaine. More Cocaine. Suddenly cold air. What time is it? I look at my watch and it says 2:30 am. I have a text from the girl from the bar. When did I message her? She says to bring the team and meet her and some friends at an underground bar that never closes. The guys are down. It seems we have lost some of the team, good luck I say.

We take Ubers across town to this location she tells me. Turns out it is a dingy hotel. We go around back and there is a door. I was told to knock three times. BANG BANG BANG. Door opens and its this huge lavish bar disguised with a shitty hotel on top. There is a pink neon sign in the entryway that is blinking that says “Paradise”. This was no paradise my friends, it was a den of sin. I don’t think I can accurately recall what happened during the next few hours. It is pretty much a haze and I definitely blacked out at some point.

I woke up the next day to the girl from the bar making eggs and waffles in my apartment. Shit, I hope my dog is ok is my first thought. Ice is right there next to the bed looking content and full. I know I have a monster hangover coming on, so it is probably best to get ahead of it. I open my phone and text Michael Fitted, “So what are we going to do today?”

Credit to Vulfzilla for the awesome render pic

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