I know, this all sucks. Everyone, in some way shape or form, has been affected by recent events. For the next few minutes, I want to help. I can’t do much, this I know. But what I can do- what sport can do- is distract. For the next couple of minutes, I’d like to distract you by telling a story- a story of how a hockey championship was won in the year 2020. But the story is about more than just a playoff run, more than even a season. It is about climbing the mountain of hockey- the joy, elation, bliss, sadness, anger and frustration that comes with it. About how I’ve always strived to Stop the Puck and, perhaps more importantly, about how I Love the Game.

 

Stop The Puck. Love The Game

by Andrew Masters

 

 

Mom, I don’t feel well.

 

It was almost over before it began.

 

Somewhere along the 401 in Kingston, Ontario, a 10-year old Andrew Masters felt unwell. We pulled over to the nearest rest stop. Mom was placed in the unenviable situation of deciding whether to continue to the tournament, knowing the likelihood of a weekend caring for a sick child in a hotel room. But for whatever reason, she kept going, headed to Lake Placid.

 

Funky things happen in that town. It has a history where percentages surrender to unlikely results. I have played in the neighbourhood of 500 minor hockey games over my years. In one of those games- a likelihood of well under 1%, both goaltenders were unable to play. However, in true Lake Placid fashion, odds were thrown out the window. The team was in an emergency.

 

The AAA defenseman now skating to the crease was…

 

Me.

 

(Fast forward 5 years- Minor Midget OHL draft year)

 

That’s a -1.25 in both eyes, enough where some things are blurry at a distance.

 

The “things that were blurry” were pucks. The timing couldn’t have been worse- it was the OHL draft year. In Kitchener, the OHL Rangers rule. As a young boy, I idolized them. Just as I was ending my phase of having “boyhood idols”, I felt close to joining them. Except teams do advanced scouting early in the draft year. They make lists. Meanwhile, I was struggling to see the puck.

 

301 names crossed the computer screen as 2011 OHL draftees. Andrew Masters wasn’t one of them.

 

So now I try to get an NCAA scholarship.

 

That fall, I tried out for the Kitchener Dutchmen Junior B team. As a 16-year old, I was released- I was using the camp mainly as an experience for the next year.

 

Nevertheless, start the cut count.

 

A “cut” is defined as a team where I skate with that squad in a tryout setting and didn’t hear back in the weeks after the skate, was moved before I ever played a game, or was told I was released. If a team releases me in multiple years, they show up for each year I was released. Showcase tournaments with a team’s coach for the purpose of a tryout count, given it was understood I was trying to make the team.

 

Got the rules of the count?

 

Junior Cut Count: 1- 2011- Jr. B- Kitchener Dutchmen

 

So, I returned to Midget AAA in Kitchener. Or…the team that played in the midget AAA league from Kitchener. To say we were a AAA team implies that we were AAA caliber. A team that was oh-fer their first dozen games wasn’t AAA caliber. But I soldiered on, using it as a stepping-stone to play Junior the following year.

 

Toward year’s end, I started to develop a plan to start some NCAA interest. Try out for three Junior A teams at prospect camps. Secure at least one main camp offer. From there, make the team. As a last resort, attend the Ottawa-based Junior A league’s prospect weekend for exposure. Someone HAS to sign me, right? Take spring prospect weekend tryout offer with Kitchener Rangers, maintaining NCAA eligibility, for the experience. Play for Jr. B Dutchmen if all else fails. Seems foolproof, right?

 

Add: 2012- OHL- Kitchener Rangers.

Jr. A- Aurora Tigers, Burlington Cougars, Newmarket Hurricanes, Georgetown Raiders, Pembroke Lumber Kings, Cornwall Colts, Wellington Dukes, Oakville Blades.

Jr. B- Kitchener Dutchmen

 

After all of the cuts, I reported to the Paris Mounties Junior C team.

 

Thankfully, Paris was a fantastic experience. It was a breath of fresh air. Winning, new teammates who welcomed me as a rookie and the ability to start. It showed me the ropes of junior hockey and exposed me to situations not seen in minor hockey.

 

However, invaluable experience is great, but the experience needed to lead somewhere. I needed to make progress to pass the hundreds of junior goalies in higher leagues. Given I was about to graduate high school, I decided that in order to continue to strive to play in the NCAA, I needed to make a plan. Either play Junior A or Junior B, but I need to make progress …I can’t go back to Junior C…I CAN’T GO BACK TO JUNIOR C.

 

Add: 2013- USHL- Green Bay Gamblers

Jr. A- Toronto Patriots, Wellington Dukes, Nepean Raiders, Pickering Panthers

Jr. B- Brantford 99ers, Waterloo Siskins, Cambridge Winter Hawks

 

Back to Junior C.

 

Once I started that year, I made an internal promise. If nothing happened mid-season, I’d turn my back on the NCAA pathway, thank competitive hockey for all it’s given me, finish my career in Paris, and go to university as a non-athlete. It wasn’t for lack of passion or desire. It was that I would be irrationally delaying full-time schooling for a pipe dream. Given my analysis of the past few years, a goalie moving up mid-season was unlikely- goalie movement was normally goalies in bad situations being released. Trying to move up a level in mid-season was like a fish swimming upstream. It was hoping for player movement in the wrong direction.

 

Except it got worse.

 

I wasn’t playing Junior C games. In late September, I was watching them, in my equipment, from the bench.

 

“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you until it seems that you cannot hold on for a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time when the tide will turn.”

-Harriet Beecher Stowe

 

Time for a “Go and try to get a shutout every time you’re in net, what’s the worst that can happen?” recommendation of a mindset from a supportive father, which led to a shutout streak of 205 minutes and 41 seconds. It was the best statistical stretch of my career. I continued to contact teams to try to initiate interest of some sort. Perhaps if I knew I had a spot in Junior B or Junior A the following season, I would consider going back on that internal promise and continue on the pathway. But it wasn’t a guarantee.

 

In early December 2013, the Ottawa 67s were looking to make a trade for a goalie. After some last-minute changes, they had targeted a goalie playing for the St. Marys Lincolns and a 10^th round pick of London Knights. Surprised that their goalie selected in Round 2 wasn’t the target, they made the trade. However, that left the Lincolns without a goalie they never imagined was on the OHL radar, and desperately seeking for a replacement. They were willing to take anyone who reached out or was available. Even a kid from Junior C, who happened to email the Lincolns within an hour of the trade.

 

After all the cuts, an email sent on a December night, over two years after my first junior tryout, worked. I moved up, mid-season, like my research had indicated was so improbable. The Lincolns gave me a chance to keep my hockey career alive. The team struggled, but I was treated professionally, enjoyed my teammates and the staff, and was given the opportunity to play nearly every game. We made an unlikely run to the playoffs, and I was able to gain some recognition at year’s end after finishing the season with the Lincs, just as I received as a Mountie the year prior.

 

At the end of that year, going into my 19-year old year, I thought it would again, be imperative to make Junior A to keep progressing and play in front of even more scouts.

 

Well, the pattern continued…

 

Add: 2014- Jr. A- Pembroke Lumber Kings

 

Playing for a struggling Junior B team as a 19-year old, there were several goalies I needed to pass. There were many goalies who were in superior leagues- plus, my stats didn’t imply I was exactly “lighting it up”. With the average age of an NCAA freshman at 20, and the oldest possible ones at 21, I needed to move up- fast.

 

Time to ask for a trade.

 

I could feel the difference playing for the Sarnia Legionnaires. With over a thousand fans per game in Sarnia, I thought that Sarnia would be a place with exposure to higher levels. I knew that I would just be there for a few months, but I could feel the professionalism within the organization. After a few months of the regular season, and two rounds of playoffs, the season came to a close. However, I still did not have a single school more than passively interested in my services for the year after the next- before I was too old to continue to play in juniors.

 

It was enough to sign my first Junior A card, that off-season, as an overager with the Trenton Golden Hawks.

 

But there was an issue that needed to be addressed first.

 

6-foot-1. 242 pounds (not the good kind, either).

 

What that did is spark a mindset in me. A realization that I did not know what I did not know. That this isn’t just something I need to work toward while at the rink. That, despite my best efforts, I had much more to give. Enter Maria Mountain’s goalie-specific summer workout plan, and Matt Smith’s technical eye as two gurus helping me improve. Enter my parents, encouraging me to improve my dietary and living habits. And enter a much-improved work ethic.

 

“The Trenton Golden Hawks here- We’ve made a trade in net. You have two options- stay with us as a backup, or report to one of the worst teams in the league”

 

Where did THAT come from??

 

Ontario Junior A goalies who are backups rarely receive NCAA interest. Goalies who aren’t exposed in big games on subpar teams don’t, either. I asked if there was another option.

 

Georgetown only other team interested. Greg Walters will b calling u.

 

Georgetown was one also one of the top franchises in the league. Although they were projected to be going through a rebuilding year, I knew they were a program with a great reputation. When the puck dropped for my last year of juniors in September, I would finally be putting on a Junior A jersey, some 4 years after I sent my first email introducing myself as a Midget AAA player.

 

Junior Cut Count (Final): 22- 2011- Jr. B- Kitchener Dutchmen 2012- OHL- Kitchener Rangers. Jr. A- Aurora Tigers, Burlington Cougars, Newmarket Hurricanes, Georgetown Raiders, Pembroke Lumber Kings, Cornwall Colts, Wellington Dukes, Oakville Blades. Jr. B- Kitchener Dutchmen 2013- USHL- Green Bay Gamblers Jr. A- Toronto Patriots, Wellington Dukes, Nepean Raiders, Pickering Panthers Jr. B- Brantford 99ers, Waterloo Siskins, Cambridge Winter Hawks 2014- Jr. A- Pembroke Lumber Kings 2015- Jr. A- Trenton Golden Hawks…(by the rules of the game, it counts)

 

I was ready.

 

Momentum started building that season, both individually and as a team. A group of rookies with very few veterans, we made our way to the top of the South-West conference standings. Individually, I was able to play on league All-Star teams, play in a game against the Czech national team and was named the OJHL Goalie of the Year at year’s end. A Goals Against Average of 2.00. A save percentage of .934. 28 wins, 9 losses, 3 ties.

 

The school interest grew as well.

 

The goals that I had worked towards for years were being realized.

 

Entering playoffs as the top seed in our conference, we marched through the first three rounds, setting up a date with the same Trenton Golden Hawks that I had originally signed with in the spring.

 

Unfortunately, what felt like destiny was not to be. However, even though we may have lost our last game, it was still an incredibly positive year. The final opportunity for a championship in junior hockey slipped my grasp however, after coming so close in Georgetown and second round exits in Paris and Sarnia. I felt like I had missed out.

 

The hockey-related excitement wasn’t over for the year.

 

I had several options at the U Sports and Division Three levels, and NCAA Division One interest. Well into May, after I had played my last game of junior hockey, my long-time goal to play NCAA Division One athletics was still alive, however the available positions were quickly drying up.

 

In May of 2016, Miami University received the news that a goalie would miss the entire season with major surgery. This left Miami with only two goaltenders- one short of the three traditionally required at the collegiate level. This news was sudden- they needed a goalie, and fast!

 

Off a recommendation, they called Andrew Masters.

 

I was entering a program that had just qualified for 9 of the past 11 national tournaments. A program that plays in the NCHC, the conference that has produced the last four national champions. I would be shocked if the other 2016-17 RedHawks had a cumulative “cut count” of 22 junior organizations.

 

The net was young, with three freshmen goalies. It led to a unique opportunity- while I was recruited after my classmates, it was one of the only programs where all goalies were on the exact same level of collegiate hockey experience- zero!

 

Hope and a perceived sense of progression encouraged my play throughout the fall. While I was struggling to gain ground on my two classmates, I felt I was progressing. Feeling I was close to the positive breaks that I worked so hard for in junior, I continued to work and stay “checked in”.

 

As the snow fell, something was missing. The pattern of improbable occurrences that found ways to place myself in the crease throughout my junior career wasn’t repeating. While it was somewhat improbable that I would have worked my way into significant playing time as a RedHawk- especially right away, so too were there so many other improbabilities in my career. Unfortunately, history wasn’t eager to repeat itself.

 

Over four years, a single semester isn’t always an indicator of long-term playing time. However, I was having honest internal discussions about my true role. I had to understand my role and face the realities of staying with two classmates appearing to gain ground. They would be getting experience. I wouldn’t.

 

I also came to a much more important realization.  My goal wasn’t to play NCAA hockey- it was to play at the highest possible level, for as long as possible. In junior, with the OHL door closed, the NCAA was my way to achieve that- to keep this experience going as long as I could.

 

There was part of me that still wanted to keep going- part that hadn’t given up. I still wanted it. In fact, for her sophomore journalism class, one of my friends from the school wrote a story chronicling just how bad I wanted it.

 

She called the story “Stop the Puck. Love the Game”.

 

As I had done before, I needed to research.  I knew I had another option- return home next season to play hockey for a Canadian University. I needed to answer every question I could, given that no one would be recruiting me initially. In a way, while I would only reach out to teams I was interested in, only teams I reached out to would I know I was available.

 

Also, there was a priority to finish the season the “right way”, which included finishing the year with Miami- giving them time to recruit another goalie at years end- and leaving in a professional manner on good terms. They had given me the opportunity to play Division One hockey and I made lifelong friends from the experience. It was the least I could do.

 

Time to write “The Book”.

 

“The Book”, as I know it, is an 88-page manual answering those questions. Each U Sports school’s academic, program, roster and perceived goaltending situation were analysed, as well as professional pathways of their alumni. I looked for trends and ranked options.

 

“The Book” said that Canadian University hockey was extremely skilled and underrated. I knew it was a league targeted by former major junior players and other elite players- but not much else. I learned it was a league scouted by the professional ranks. It is skilled, the players take the league seriously, and top former major junior players make up its core. I had a definite list of schools to contact. There was going to be some risk involved. But rationally, and more importantly to feel every emotion that accompanied the beautiful ride I had experienced, I needed to leave. I needed to play for a new school.

 

Although I didn’t know which one.

 

With the season at Miami over, it was absolutely imperative that I generated interest quickly. As soon as possible, I worked my way through several schools “The Book” had indicated would be bringing in a goalie next season. After contacting players that I knew within the organizations after the end of our season, I began to call coaches with the hope they would be willing to take a chance on a transfer who hadn’t played a hockey game in over a calendar year.

 

Shawn Camp Guelph

 

After discussions with a few other schools, that contact name showed up as my phone rang. A school with a need for two goalies was calling, looking for someone who could open up camp with a chance of being a go-to guy.

 

They were calling me.

 

My research indicated how lucky I was. When I took a look at the major junior goaltenders available that year- and their hypothetical options- Guelph certainly looked like it would be appealing. It had it all- a program with a solid history and academic reputation. It had a central location- relatively local to lots of Southern Ontario players. It was located in a young, vibrant town. It had a facility on campus. It was an option I definitely needed to strongly consider.

 

Days after moving out of Miami, I met Coach Camp and toured the campus. As I was on my tour, I knew Guelph was where I wanted to be. Coach Camp was a warm, jubilant personality who I knew could reignite my passion for the game, and I could feel the sense of fun and energy in the program.

 

With a new appreciation of the game, I was going to be Guelph Gryphon.

 

The first year would be up and down. There were times when I felt I had the league figured out, and times where I felt far away. I learned how to use a Christmas break to reset my mind and game, and our team played phenomenally for most of the season. By the end of the year, I felt adjusted and ready for the playoffs.

 

Unfortunately, I had to learn how brutally difficult the playoffs could be. Entering the playoffs as a top seed, my naivete showed. While the team may have underperformed, and a few overtimes didn’t go our way, I felt hugely guilty that I didn’t take the “one bad weekend and you’re out” warning as seriously as I should have. Despite earning individual rookie recognition, it was tough to look in the mirror at the end of the season knowing there was more to give.

 

The next year, I was able to learn a lot from my partner, New Jersey- drafted Evan Cormier. While the uncertainty on whether he would report would have consumed my summertime thoughts the year prior, I felt I had matured to the point where I believed the mindset that all I could control was my effort and attitude. As I watched him, I realized there was still more I needed to learn; the rebound control, the puck-handling and the precision in movement that I could see he possessed in spades. He had the mindset and outlook on the game that made him destined for the pros. While Corms ate the majority of starts throughout the first half, I had a front row seat on how a sure-fire pro practiced. Unfortunately, many of those games didn’t go our way- we were hurt and underperforming as a group. Nevertheless, I could feel an increase in maturity and a coming of age with my outlook on the situation.

 

I continued to stay “checked in” over the Christmas Break.  The staff told me that I would start an exhibition game against an NCAA opponent to “get our feet wet” for the second half. I knew there wasn’t any playing time guarantees after that, with the quality of Corms’ abilities. Even if my role was to primarily support, I wanted to feel good about my game.

 

On our travel day, I was able to do a social media takeover for a popular account for goalies and I was able to tell my story, to this point while on the bus. I left them with this quote from “Stop the Puck. Love the Game.”

 

With his head down and teammates solemn, I ask him what he thinks about, what keeps him going.

 

“There’s a trust in myself, that I’ve improved so much over the past four years. There’s a don’t give up. There’s a trust in yourself.”

 

Like your time will come?

 

“Like your time will come because I’ve always had stupid breaks to get in the net before and I’ll work my (butt) off to make sure that when my…” he almost spits this next word “…stupid break comes here, I’ll be ready. That’s what keeps me going”

 

Except there was something they didn’t know- something that I wasn’t completely sure should be shared in public, given I hadn’t seen an official announcement.

 

In December, there was a Vegas-New Jersey NHL matchup. In that game, the Devils starter would suffer a week-to-week injury. They would call up their top prospect from the minors for a long-term stint instead of making a trade for a replacement, leaving a vacancy with their affiliate. The AHL Binghamton Devils needed a goalie urgently, preferably one they could trust to play key minutes if necessary, and maybe even one who’d previously been in the organization.

 

The Binghamton Devils picked up the phone and called…

 

Evan Cormier.

 

Corms had played his last game as a Gryphon.

 

It was the time when my “stupid break comes here”. And “I’ll be ready”. Because “That’s what keeps me going.”

 

Oh and that bus?

 

It was headed to Oxford, Ohio.

 

We were going to play against the Miami RedHawks. It had to be the strangest way to make a debut at the Goggin Ice Center in its history.

 

The Gryphons knew we were playing against my old school. The RedHawks knew it was the chance we finally get to see Masters play. Loose ends were tied. Circles were closed.

 

After a 2-1 loss, a mindset of focus, determination and “be the best you can be, regardless of the score” defined that day for me. I was ready. I felt more mature, and that I had learned from the year before.

 

Let’s get going.

 

We catapulted up the standings in the second half, good for fourth seed. My mindset indicated that I had learned from the year prior. Although I was learning that mindsets were tough to maintain for every minute of every game, I was making progress. Mistakes would happen, regrettable goals would happen, but I felt I was getting closer to where I wanted to be.

 

It was time for the playoffs. It was time to show that the experience the year prior wasn’t in vain. It was time to show that we had learned lessons and could outperform, as the fourth seed, the first-seeded version of ourselves some twelve months prior.

 

And learn we did.

 

After we marched through the first two rounds and split the first two games of the third, something else was now one game away. Something that, given the structure of our conference, we would earn with one more win. Something that drove me and motivated me for the prior three years.

 

A berth in the national tournament.

 

Gryphon Mikkel Aagaard watched his shot from the slot clank in the net in double-overtime. Of the eight teams in the national tournament, the Guelph Gryphons would be one of them. Looking around, at the seven former major junior starters guarding the other goals, the significance of the background of the kid from Junior C that never gave up standing beside the other goalies wasn’t lost. Personally, I felt it was something to be proud of.

 

Unfortunately, what happened in the league championship game doesn’t contribute to the storybook ending. I would allow a sharp angle goal to break a tie at the start of the third period that would stand as the winner, something that every fibre in my body didn’t want to acknowledge when I heard the arena erupt. But it happened. And what happened the next game- the national quarterfinal against the Saskatchewan, wasn’t entirely different. The stage felt huge. It felt like the right stage to finish an event-filled, unlikely year.

 

One stretch drive as a backup: check

 

One stretch drive as a starter, tournament missed, lessons learnt: check

 

One stretch drive as a starter, tournament made: check

 

Willingness to see what came next: check

 

The summer of 2019, from a hockey standpoint, was the summer with the least uncertainty I had experienced in years. I knew who my goalie partner would be and who my lineup would consist of. The staff would be returning. Everything lined up to be completely comfortable, and to strive for a consistent high level.

 

And that’s exactly what happened come September.

 

I felt ready. I felt that I was holding myself to the highest standard- a veteran in every sense of the word. I knew each opposing rink, each special event, each team and each crowd. There would be few situations in U Sports hockey that would feel foreign to me. Preseason, regular season, playoffs, nationals- I felt ready.

 

And ready I was. The start of the season went exactly to plan.

 

Until, slowly, it didn’t.

 

What started out as a bad game turned into a bad weekend, then a bad month. It turned into a total loss of my process. A loss of my focus. A version of myself far, far below the version I needed to be.

 

It was tough to stay patient with my process, even though I knew there was still time. Time enough to regain the momentum that I knew could come back.

 

It appeared that I had that chance, starting with Guelph’s winter homecoming game in front of a packed house of about 5000. I could feel the support. The screams for great saves, and toward the end, screams for the routine. I felt that support and elation from the crowd. The entire Guelph student body’s loud support. I could feel that it was mine.

 

Unfortunately, after yet another poor result the next week, my 2019-20 regular season was over. I felt embarrassed- stopping pucks at the national championship one year, struggling the next.

 

However, there wasn’t the anger, despair or frustration of not playing that had accompanied years prior. I knew why I wasn’t playing- my stat line for the year told me all it needed to. But there was an overriding sense of pride for the program. Thankful the Gryphons gave me a chance to continue the story.

 

I knew I wanted to contribute in the playoff run and that we didn’t have a goalie coach on the roster. I enjoy mentoring, using my experiences to help others through the game of hockey. I knew our goaltender, Brendan Cregan, didn’t know what to expect in best-of-three collegiate series. I let him know that I was happy to mentor him. If there was a way that was appropriate, I would be happy to help, knowing how crucial experience was.

 

The first game resulted in a 3-1 loss, leaving us on our last legs. The morning of our second game, our captain decided to accept a contract offer to finish the season in Germany. It was a tough situation to play a game facing elimination. I knew Cregs and the team were facing a massive test.

 

But Cregs managed to win that game. Then the next. Then the next round. All of a sudden, we were in Round 3.

 

I had been fairly close in Sarnia, lost a final in Georgetown and lost the Queen’s Cup the year before. I had been so close but had never won a championship. Not a college championship. Not a junior championship. Not a midget, or a bantam championship. I have to go back to Minor PeeWee- 11 years old, 13 years prior, one year after Lake Placid- to find a league championship. Even tournament championships were few and far between- a few in my first two years of goaltending, of which I only started one final. A high school tournament in Grade 10. That’s it.

 

Over time, I started to justify that I was a champion. I had overcome a lot individually, but in hindsight, I had experienced team success. The year that I left Paris, they won a league championship. I knew that I didn’t have the memories or ring to prove it or would get the invites to reunions years later. But I contributed some early season wins right? Does that count? Does being a part of the process that Georgetown, that went on to win the year after I left, count? I wasn’t on the team, but I contributed to the learning of that team. How close is that? Yes, we lost the final in Georgetown and the Queen’s Cup the year before. But, in both circumstances, we were West Division Champions. Doesn’t that deserve a banner? Something to be proud of? Is that enough to declare myself a champion?

 

But what if it isn’t?

 

Everyone on a championship team makes contributions. A team relies on each and every player, staff member and supporter. Every single person on the team has the ability to make a difference- maybe the difference between winning and losing. But would it seem extremely paradoxical if, on the year that fell miles short of my standards and my expectations for myself, this year would be the year we won, as opposed to years that I was much, much closer to my expectations for myself, and lost.

 

After an OT goal by Stephen Templeton, we were one win away from the Queen’s Cup final.

 

But he let in four goals on Friday. Larks was the last line of Miami’s defense that had blown the 4-1 lead. And he had skated to the bench, looking rattled after the fourth puck that snuck past him.

 

“Drew. My shoulder hurts.”

 

So Blasi changed the goalie. Larkin’s out.

 

Holy (crap), I’m going in.

 

(Except he wasn’t)

 

This is actually an excerpt from “Stop the Puck. Love the Game.” Let me make some alterations to make the story sound a bit more like Game 2 of the 2020 OUA Western Conference Final.

 

But he had let in four goals midway through the second. Cregs was the last line of Guelph’s defense that had surrendered the 4-1 score. And he skated to the bench after the fourth puck that snuck past him.

 

Everyone thought his shoulder was hurt. But it was just a stinger, he was alright. It just wasn’t his day.

 

So Camp changed the goalie. Cregan’s out.

 

Holy (crap), I’m going in.

 

(And he never left)

 

That’s better.

 

Speaking of “Stop the Puck. Love the Game.”, let’s add another, relevant excerpt, with a key word in bold.

 

With his head down and teammates solemn, I ask him what he thinks about, what keeps him going.

 

“There’s a trust in myself, that I’ve improved so much over the past four years. There’s a don’t give up. There’s a trust in yourself.”

 

Like your time will come?

 

“Like your time will come because I’ve always had stupid breaks to get in the net before and I’ll work my (butt) off to make sure that when my…” he almost spits this next word “…stupid break comes here, I’ll be ready. That’s what keeps me going”

 

I guess I didn’t read it closely enough the year before.

 

It’s ironic that Game 2 of the 2020 OUA Western Conference final occurred on February 29. A day that comes every four years.

 

It felt like taking a favourite movie with a cliff-hanger and finding that there was an alternate ending. You knew how the storyline developed; what you felt along the way. It meant the chance to close loops. The alternate ending might suck too. It might not close storylines or create satisfaction. It might make things worse.

 

But it was worth finding out.

 

The score of the series-deciding game was identical to the year before. 4-3 Gryphons. A celebration all too familiar. A berth to the national tournament. A championship one game away.

 

But I knew more. I knew how to be in league finals. I knew how much extra “hoopla” that there would be. The trophy would be in the house. One team would enjoy a celebration like no other and the other would feel crushing defeat.

 

I knew how much a championship meant. Whether it had been old goals as a freshman trying to crack into college hockey, or a persistent NCAA-centric mindset that tournament qualification defined a successful year, the tournament berth the year prior felt, at the time, satisfactory. In the celebration that followed that game, I remember joyfully letting “We made the tournament! We made the tournament!” pass my lips. Our captain, a 2015 Queen’s Cup Champion, looked at me and said, “One more first”.

 

It took the fourth year to understand that.

 

I cared much less about our 2020 tournament berth. I cared that I had a chance to close circles, I had a chance to win. I was no longer searching for “close enoughs” or moral victories- I had those in spades.

 

I wanted the big one.

 

109^th Queen’s Cup. The Guelph Gryphons hosting the Ottawa Gee-Gees. Drop the puck.

 

Back and forth, end to end, trading chances, trading breakaways.

 

The first period was scoreless. Then the second.

 

Until Marc Stevens, on the powerplay, took a backdoor pass and went top shelf to send the Gryphon Centre into hysteria early in the third period. It looked like destiny.

 

But 21 seconds later, it was Kevin Domingue, potting his own rebound for the Gee-Gees, that sent us back to square one.

 

The time clicked down. The score was still tied.  Off to overtime.

 

After clinging to dear life in the first overtime, watching each puck with maximum focus and intent, with a few quality chances to other side, it solved nothing.

 

Double Overtime, championship game, here we go.

 

Hoping, praying, holding on to the rope with every fibre of my being, killing penalties, stopping a breakaway. Waiting for someone to break through. Doing everything, knowing you will remember the result forever.

 

Shots: Gryphons 3, Gee-Gees 12.

 

Shots combined in overtime: Gryphons 10, Gee-Gees 26.

 

Shots in the game: Gryphons 36, Gee-Gees 49.

 

Score: Gryphons 1, Gee-Gees 1

 

I knew the ice would worsen significantly as the period progressed. For that reason, I knew the goal that would be the winner would be scored early in an overtime period. I also knew we were losing gas.

 

The Gee-Gees got a break. 2 on 1. Shot to the high shoulder. Save. Rebound bounces over a stick. Into the possession of Gryphon Zach McFadden, who passed it to Ryan Valentini skating out of the zone.

 

Valentini charging…at the blue line…gives it…Nichol…fires…

 

…

 

SCOOOOOOOOORES!!!!!  THEY DID IT! THE GRYPHONS HAVE WON THE QUEEN’S CUP! TEDDY NICHOL RIPS IT HOME! GO CRAZY GUELPH! YOUR GRYPHONS ARE SEVEN-TIME OUA CHAMPIONS!

 

It was all I ever dreamed it could be. Throwing my gloves in the air, screaming “CHAMPIONSHIP” at the top of my lungs was worth the wait- worth every second. The individual performance was secondary. I didn’t care how many saves I made, or goals I allowed.

 

Mission accomplished. Championship won. Brothers for life acquired.

 

Off on the plane to Halifax, two days later.

 

Unfortunately, off to be beaten by a St. Mary’s Huskies team that was truly better than us that day, by a 5-1 score in the national quarterfinal, to have closure, to understand what our fate was and wrap it up on the ice.

 

St. Mary’s wouldn’t have that chance.

 

During the game, Hockey Canada made the call that they were cancelling all hockey for the year due to COVID-19 concerns. The Guelph-St. Mary’s game would be the last game played in the 2020 University Cup.

 

It was over for us. It was over for everyone.

 

“What’s your favourite part of your story?’

 

A question that I pondered, as the 2019-20 season progressed further into the rearview mirror. And the answer, is actually quite simple. It’s the same answer I gave when goaltending legend Mitch Korn asked each of the Miami goaltenders what our moment was where we received such a break that we can point to it as our “big break”.

 

“It’s still to come”.

 

There are still future plans in this game. There are plans to keep learning and “unlocking” keys to my game and take the lessons I learned in 19/20- good and bad- and apply them. There are plans to continue my academic studies as a master’s student in 2020/21- school is very important to me and I have just graduated from Guelph with my degree in Management, Economics and Finance, achieving academic All-Canadian status. There are plans to continue my Gryphon career and strive to ensure that each year of college hockey ends better than the last. There are plans of a professional career after Guelph. There are plans to work in the hockey industry as my primary career in life and give back to this game. Am I happy with this story? Yes. Satisfied with it? No. Done with it? Not even close.

 

However, I’m starting to learn that I don’t know what I don’t know. I’m open to having my course altered, to adjust my sail to fit the wind. All I know is that I will continue to try, to the best of my ability, to “Stop the Puck”. And, that I “Love the Game.”

 

And, to the young goalies, hockey players, athletes out there, I have some homework for you in the next little bit. Write your story. Physically write it, to give appreciation to your past, and understand where you got to where you are. But understand that you have the power to keep writing. If you don’t like how your story ends, you have the power to change it.

 

Thank you. Thank you to my parents, there for every word of this story, for allowing me to experience this first-hand. Thank you to all the coaches and teachers over the years, head, assistant, goalie, strength, life, elementary school, high school, university, for teaching me what you knew, whether or not it was at all related to the content you gave. Thank you to my family and friends for giving me support when I needed it, for the times you realized I needed a hand, and the times you didn’t but gave it anyways. Thank you to you, the reader. Thank you for allowing me to share this odyssey with you. Thank you for allowing me to distract you, with how the story of a guy whose hockey career hung on by a fingernail won a championship in 2020. Thank you, for those that find themselves in a situation similar to mine, for being open to finding some aspect in my story that helps. It means more than you know.

 

Your friend

-Andrew