The Rookie

The Rookie

“Zamboni’s almost done.”

Andrew, sitting in his stall with his eyes closed in a preparatory attempt to focus his thoughts, opened his eyes and raised his head to see Coach Olsen about to deliver his own pre-game ritual: the motivational speech. Somebody switched off the stereo.

“Alright, boys, the preseason jitters are over. We all know that we’re the defending league champions, but this is a new chapter. With all the off-season moves made by management, I can’t help but think they may not be interested in building a dynasty. They let most of our core veterans go, leaving it up to the rest of you nobodies to pick up the reins and somehow become leaders yourselves. I personally hope that happens, just to show those jerks in the owner’s box that I’m worth a better contract than they’re giving me. Out of some streak of genius, the ‘brainiacs’ in the NHL office thought it would be good for ratings in The States to put us up against the team that we beat in the finals four months ago.” He moved to the middle of the dressing room, tightly gripping his clipboard with chubby white knuckles. “I know you boys have the skill to keep up with those guys in the other room, but what you need to prove to me is that you have the balls to stand up to their goon tactics!” His face turned red as his voice rose. “Do not let them intimidate you! Do not let them use their size against you! You’re younger, faster, smarter…” He paused for maximum effect, and then continued in an almost hushed tone, “And you’re better than they are. Let’s start the season by making a statement to the league that we’re still champions!”

The dressing room shook with the response from the players as they threw on their helmets and hollered their battle-cries.

Coach Olsen made his way over to Andrew’s stall amidst the chaos he invoked.

“You’re starting in net tonight, Crawford. Are you ready?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Heck yes I’m ready!” Andrew shot back as he pulled his mask over his face with his blocker hand and stood up, looking at his coach with fire in his eyes. “Been waiting for this chance most of my life.”

He wasn’t lying. A week after his 15th birthday, Andrew’s older brother, David, lost the use of his legs in an incident that would be shown in Safe Hockey educational videos across the country. Skating feverishly to beat out an icing call, Dave had his skates kicked out from under him by a frustrated opponent just as he reached the goal line. Fans who were watching inside the lobby claimed to have heard the vertebrae snap as he crashed head-first into the boards. From that moment on, Dave would never walk again, and Andrew dedicated his quest to make the NHL to his injured brother. Tonight, Dave was in attendance to watch his inspired younger sibling make his big-league debut for his favorite team.

Olsen returned the intense gaze. “Well let’s see what you got then, kid…”

The trainer opened the door to the corridor leading to the ice surface, and the sounds came flooding in. The chanting of the crowd was intermingled with Metallica’s "Enter Sandman" playing at a decibel level only crazed hockey fans could tolerate. Then came the voice of the in-game announcer as he started the introductions of the home-team.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the season opener of the defending Stanley Cup Champions…your very own…Toronto Maple Leafs! Now, the starting lineup, brought to you by Wendy’s…”

As the rest of the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, Dave couldn’t hide the tears as he anticipated the announcer’s next words.

“In goal, making his NHL debut… Andrewwww Crrawwwwwwforrrrrd!”

With the sound of his own name ringing in his ears, Andrew practically flew onto the ice and with adrenaline searing his arteries, skated as fast as he could in his usual pre-game lap around the net as the crowd showed their appreciation. Even though he had never played a game at the Air Canada Center, the fans knew very well who Andrew was. During the World Junior Championships, he led his Canadian team to a gold-medal over the heavily favored Swedes in a hard-fought 1-0 shootout win. His one-on-one saves were so spectacular that even American sports stations featured them before their football highlight packages. That’s saying a lot. It helped the Leafs make the decision to trade away their top scorer in order to get the first overall draft pick and secure the services of the promising young netminder.

The announcer continued through the starting lineup as the rest of the team launched onto the frozen battleground, ready to face their old rivals, the San Jose Sharks.

As the opposition stepped onto the ice, Andrew realized that he was no longer in the Juniors. He was a boy in a man’s world now. These were massive brutes; battle-tested machines ready to roll over anyone in their way. If Andrew had a clear head, he might’ve found reason to be afraid of these monsters.

Andy didn’t even hear the words of the anthems while he tried to visualize in his head every possible situation that could arise and the ways that he would handle them. Before he knew it, the referee was blowing the whistle at center ice to signal the opening face-off. It was time to show them what he could do.

The centermen slowly made their way to the face-off circle, sizing each other up as they dropped their hands on their sticks to get maximum leverage. The ref looked to both goal judges to make sure everything was in order and then he dropped the puck to set the first game of the season in motion.
The puck had barely scuffed the ice when the gloves came off. Bad blood, developed over an intense seven-game war for hockey’s Holy Grail, was spilled in the opening seconds to prove that the rivalry still existed. The pugilists traded blows to the face and helmet until their dominant hands tired. With neither contestant willing to concede, they switched to their lefts and continued to bash each other senseless until both were too exhausted to even stand anymore and they fell in a heap of flailing arms and legs as the linesmen jumped in to break it up. Blood-thirsty fans slapped their hands on the glass as if to validate the violence through the transparent barrier between “civilized” and barbarian. The bloodied combatants were led to the penalty box where they would endure 5 minutes of praise or insults, depending on the allegiance of the fans seated behind them.

With the formalities out of the way, the game could finally get under way. The Sharks came out hard, and it was apparent that their game plan was exactly what Coach Olsen had expected. They were finishing their checks at every opportunity, sometimes going out of their way to make their presence felt. It seemed to be working, and the Leafs’ inexperience showed, as they coughed up the puck and the Sharks found themselves with two players breaking in alone on Crawford. This was a moment of which Andrew had both dreams and nightmares. To have to face them this early in his career was a baptism by ice – and he was ready. He took a deep breath and tried to find the right balance between rationality and reaction. He didn’t want to get caught thinking too much about what he was going to do, because these seasoned veterans could read him like a book and if he let thought take control, he would find himself moving too early and then he’d find himself with a piece of vulcanized rubber lying in the cage behind him. On the other hand, if he threw his intelligence aside and let his instincts take the reins, he may not be able to react in time and he’d get the same undesired result.

The player with the puck came into the zone first with his teammate right behind him. At that point, the trailing player turned up the speed and cut away to Andrew’s left side as the puck carrier veered to the right to try to pull the adrenaline-laced rookie out of position. It wasn’t working. Andrew read the play perfectly and was out far enough to cut down the angle the shooter had, minimizing the amount of twine he could see around the goalie. He was also refusing to commit to the shot, because if he did that, he’d leave himself vulnerable to the pass across for the one-timer. Andrew kept his left foot out a little in case that pass happened, at which point he’d have to throw all his weight across the net in order to be in position for that quick one-touch shot. It happened. He set into motion, assuming the butterfly position and sliding across his crease as fast as he could.

But this was the big leagues.

The shot he expected never came, and the pass was instantly returned to the original carrier, leaving Andrew sliding the wrong way. This was no time for rational thought. Instincts kicked in full bore and it took all the strength he had to stop his momentum on the slippery surface as he twisted backwards desperately to get his glove hand back to at least cover the bottom of the net and hope that the shooter assumed he had an easy tap-in. He didn’t treat it as a tap-in, and put everything he had into the shot – but he made the mistake of underestimating the rookie’s resolve and put it along the ice – right into Andrew’s open glove.

It took a moment for it to sink in on the fans that they had just witnessed first-hand the kind of heroics this young man was capable of. As soon as it did, the place shook as the patrons erupted in emotional explosion. Every single body in the arena was on its feet in elation. Everyone except Dave, who, even though he was confined to his wheelchair, had the biggest smile of the 19,000 in attendance as he cheered on his new favorite NHL player. No one could be more proud of Andrew than the one who grew up competing with him in everything they did.

Andrew looked around slowly, taking in the outpouring of appreciation, until he found the face of his sibling. He skated over to the boards near the spot where Dave was sitting, gave him a knowing grin, and tossed the puck over the glass to him.

Neither of the brothers would remember how the game ended that night, but the puck in Dave’s trophy case would remind them of the beginning of Andrew’s Hall of Fame career for the rest of their lives.