The referee glides in, holding the black rubber disk carefully between his fingers. I lean back into my seat, my heart picking up again. This moment, right before the puck drops is always the hardest. There’s a suspended beat of silence, a collective inhale from the crowd, as if the entire arena is holding its breath.
Then the whistle blows, and the game is officially on.
Braydon’s stick flashes down, beating Gareth cleanly. He chips the puck back to the defenseman, moving it up the ice. I can feel the energy in the arena spike as the players start settling into the rhythm of the game.
The first five minutes are rough. The Devils are aggressive, leaning into our guys at every chance, trying to throw them off their speed. Our team matches it where they can, but it’s obvious that the Devi
