The dressing room didn't stink. It didn't smell clean, but it didn't reek of months of sweat. Really, it had no smell at all. That was a sweet smell. A dressing room full of eager hockey players with no stink in it meant one thing and one thing only.

The season was about to begin.

Frank Dawson adjusted his team jacket. It was a little snug, leftover from the previous coaching staff. He was a little...wider around the waist than most. He didn't let it bother him, however. He would gladly wear rags to the game, so long as he could have a role. He loved this game, much like most of the people in the town of Moose Track Falls. Much like most of Canada.

It was his debut as the head coach of the Moose Track High boys' hockey team. As was often the case, they were opening the season against their rivals, the Deer Valley Bucks. Gone were the days of facing off against their neighbours in Loon's Lake. The Loonies were theirs now, not that those boys made the Moose Track High team very often.

That had been arrogance from the previous coaches. At least, for the most part. Loon's Lake was a poorer town, and hockey was an expensive game. It was merely the slightly greater wealth in Moose Track Falls that gave their boys the edge. But, that wasn't to say that the Loon's Lake kids weren't talented. Not at all. And many of them deserved the opportunity to make this team over the years. Especially one.

Especially Theodore Byers.

Frank glanced at the lone freshman in the room. He was about average height and weight for his age, but as a fourteen year old in a room with kids mostly two or three years older than him, he definitely appeared on the small side. He didn't appear intimidated, though. He looked eager. He looked ready.

Byers seemed to feel Frank's gaze and looked up at him, his brown eyes curious. Frank winked at him and then he glanced to the other side of the room, where the second youngest member of the team was. Tanner. His son.

Tanner was more animated than Byers, but Frank could see the difference in their readiness. Tanner's eyes were wild, his hands were fidgety and his mouth flapping like a flag in the wind. He was nervous.

Frank didn't blame him. High school hockey was different from the youth hockey Tanner had grown up with. At least here. In many places in Canada, high school hockey was a minor footnote in the wider game. But in Moose Track Falls, and some of the surrounding towns, it was huge. It was the town's pride and joy. Being on the team was a big deal. The first game was a big deal.

The opening match against Deer Valley was a huge deal.

Frank felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up, seeing his assistant coach giving him the signal. It appeared the Zamboni had cleaned the ice. It was time for the two teams to make their way out. It had been a long time since Frank had played hockey himself, at least competitively, but nonetheless, he felt that familiar pang of nervous excitement in his heart. Finally, the season was beginning.

“All right, boys!” he shouted, getting their attention immediately. “This is it. Home opener against our rivals. They're stepping on our ice. What does that mean?”

“We stomp 'em!” the team yelled in unison. Too quiet for Frank's liking.

“I said WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”

“WE STOMP 'EM!”

“MOOSE ON THREE! ONE! TWO! THREE!”

“MOOSE!”

“Now let's get out there and win a hockey game! Byers, Dawson, Gordon at forward. Joseph and Deslaurier on D. Wesley in net. LET'S GO!”

“YEAHHH!”

Frank grinned as his team charged out of the dressing room, yelling like maniacs. He closed his eyes, nodding to himself a moment later as the crowd joined them. A fired up team meant a fired up crowd. That Deer Valley team would see exactly what they were in for.

Frank followed after his team a moment later and then made his way onto the bench. He looked left, right and straight ahead, taking in both teams and the crowd. The teams were simply warming up and the intensity was already high. But still, Frank could see the stares from the visiting players and their coaching staff, and even shock on the faces of the Moose Track High fans.

Because one player stood out as he took his first few laps around the zone, gracefully stick handling the puck and smoothly turning the corners in perfect stride. The baby blue jersey of the Moose Track High team suited him well. He looked like the wind as he picked up his pace. He locked his eyes on his target, and pulled the puck back in preparation for a wrist shot.

Ping!

The puck rang off the crossbar of the empty net, bouncing up high in the air, before landing perfectly at the centre of the top of the net. As the goalie took his place, he swept the puck off, just in time for Theodore Byers to skate past and collect it. The fans gasped again, and Frank looked at the opposing team's coaches. They fidgeted uncomfortably. They knew.

Byers had done it on purpose. A shot off the crossbar on an empty net was a common superstition among players in hockey warm ups. Not everyone could aim so precisely, though. Not everyone could finesse their shot so well that it circled above the net and died on the spot in the very centre after striking the crossbar so hard.

Fourteen years old, and this kid was impressing even with his superstitious warm up shots.

Frank remembered two weeks before when the principal of the school had looked over his submitted roster for the team. He'd been shocked to see four Loon's Lake kids on the roster. He'd been speechless to see that one of them was Theodore Byers. But Frank had stood strong in keeping him on the team, despite being the first freshman to ever make it. Frank had watched Byers play in Loon's Lake's program. He'd garnered a lot of attention from Moose Track Falls, and even towns further away.

Theodore Byers was the best player Loon's Lake had ever seen. He was the best player Moose Track Falls had ever seen. He was the best player those Deer Valley coaches on the other bench had ever seen.

One day, he would be in the National Hockey League.

The buzzer to end warm ups sounded after about two minutes, and the referees shook the hands of the coaching staffs and the team captains. The teams huddled around the bench quickly to receive one last pep talk before the game. Frank let the captain do it.

“All right, boys! Let's give 'em hell out there! Byers, light 'em up like the hotshot you are!”

“YEAHHH!' the team cheered, with the exception of Byers, who grinned shyly.

The starting lineup skated out to the faceoff circle at centre ice, while the goalie went to his net. The rest of the players filled the bench quickly. None of them sat, each leaning over in anticipation as the two teams prepared to begin the game.

Byers stood a few feet back from the faceoff circle, waiting as the referee approached with the puck. At the referee's signal, he glided forward, ignoring the stare of the opposing centre, and the excited murmurs of the crowd. He leaned down, placing his stick on the ice, watching as the ref ensured both teams were lined up.

There were three times in which a hockey arena full of fans was gripped by silence...

One of those times was the moment just before puck drop. Each team on the bench leaned forward to watch their teammates engage in the first puck battle of the game. The fans held their breath as they prepared to cheer their team on for the next sixty minutes. And the players on the ice entered a completely new state of mind. A state of obsession. Obsession over one, tiny piece of black rubber.

The referee dropped the puck.

Often, the larger player had the advantage in a faceoff. They could use their size and strength to position themselves in a way to overpower the smaller opponent in order to either tie them up for a teammate to get the puck, or simply force the puck back to one of their defencemen. With Byers, size was no issue. He was far too quick.

Before the puck hit the ice, he plucked it out of the air with his stick, sending it smoothly back to the left defencemen. Frank could see it already. His team had been ready for Byers' skill, and while their opponents had glimpsed it during warm ups, they couldn't possibly have been ready for how quickly he saw the game in real time.

The puck was quickly chipped up the left side, where Tanner had already pulled away from the opposing team's winger off the faceoff. With the Deer Valley positioning already in disarray, it was easy for Tanner to skate hard up to the opposing blue line, unchallenged. And just as the defencemen managed to skate over to block his way, Tanner slid the puck over to Byers, who was skating too fast for the other defender to have even the slightest chance to check him.

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With a simple head fake, Byers was past the lone defender and in on a breakaway. At this point, everyone knew. A player like this wasn't going to miss. He faked a shot and pulled the puck back, causing the goalie to go down and then launch himself forward in desperation. Deftly sliding around the sprawled out goaltender, Byers flipped the puck perfectly over him and into the net.

It had taken about eight seconds from the moment the puck had dropped. A slick faceoff win and a dash into the zone to startle the defender, before pulling the goalie out of his net to deposit the puck inside with a simple flick of his wrist. This kid was for real. The crowd let him know it. And so did his team.

“YEAHHH!”

“F'n right, Byers! Let's go!”

Frank didn't react. Not outwardly. His heart was pounding on the inside, of course, but he knew hockey too well to get too excited. He needed to keep his team grounded. They were a younger group, prone to mistakes, even if skilled and equipped with a weapon like Byers. They only had three seniors on the team. Deer Valley had an older group, built up over the last two seasons to compete for a championship this year. They would adjust, and they would be ready for Byers and the others now.

And adjust they did. For the next half of the first period, Byers had at least two players shadowing him everywhere he went on the ice. Both of them were grade twelve students, and big for their age. They didn't play clean, either, taking every opportunity they had to give Byers an extra shove from behind or a slash on the leg or hands. He barely had room to breathe.

But it was this tight checking that made Frank even more impressed with the kid. Because ultimately, it didn't matter. He was too quick, too shifty, and just too damn good.

Deer Valley had managed to tie the game, and they were pushing the pace of the game. Their larger, older and more experienced team was pressuring the Moose Track defence, forcing mistake after mistake. A couple of good saves from their goalie and some timely checks from the forwards collapsing back to help the defence were all that prevented the puck from going in again.

After one long shift in the defensive zone, the goalie had made an incredible save and the Moose Track defender had managed to clear the puck. Fortunately, it had tipped off of an opposing Deer Valley player before going down the ice, preventing an icing call and another faceoff in the Moose Track zone. This allowed the tired players to make a quick change, giving Frank an opportunity to get Byers out on the ice again, even with the opposing coach sending out his best checkers in response.

Deer Valley carried the puck out of their own zone with perfect precision, executing a perfect passing play to rush the puck up the ice and slip through the forechecking wingers. Only Byers and the Moose Track defencemen were in the way of the quickly moving opponents.

Noticing Byers in the middle of the ice, the opposing centre passed the puck to his winger on the left side, trying to avoid going through the skilled freshman. It would've been a safe enough move in most situations, but Frank saw it for what it was.

And so did Byers.

It had been a panic move, and no player understood better when to leap on the opportunity to exploit a panic move than a star forward. Byers cut across the ice with his incredible speed, narrowing the distance between him and the opposing winger immediately. Seeing Byers make his move, the Moose Track defender cut off the lane into the zone immediately, leaving the Deer Valley player with only two options.

Go through Byers, or pass the puck back to his centreman.

He tried the latter, but in reality, it was the same result. Byers snapped the puck up, intercepting the puck with a quick slide forward and poke with his stick. In that moment, everyone on the ice, and in the stands, knew that Deer Valley was in trouble. The players that had been checking Byers throughout the period had been thinking offence for one moment, and it had cost them.

Byers shot forward like a rocket, passing the Deer Valley winger in an instant, leaving his green jersey swaying like a lone tree in a sea of white ice. The Moose Track wingers weren't ready for Byers this time, but they didn't need to be. He was moving too quickly for the defenders behind them as well. Frank chuckled to himself.

There were three times in which a hockey arena full of fans was gripped by silence...

One of those times was when a remarkable player was about to pull off a remarkable play. Byers was moving fast, but the opposing defenders tried to attack. He slipped through them like the wind. Like a ghost. The puck seemingly attached to his stick on a string as he circled it through their legs. Not a sound could be heard as he was once again in alone on the opposing goalie. And when he slid the puck through the goalie's legs and turned with his arms raised, it took the crowd and the other players on the ice a moment to realize the incredible feat they had just witnessed.

Frank had never seen a player like Byers on one of his teams before, but he'd seen good players take over games. He knew the look opposing teams had when they knew that that one player was going to make their night a miserable one. Deer Valley had that look.

Before the first period was over, Byers set up numerous chances for his teammates. Even with Deer Valley's defenders checking him closely, he somehow ended up with the puck on his stick at least a dozen times. And each time, the opposing goalie needed to make a remarkable save off of one of Byers' shots, or the shot of a teammate that had just received a perfect pass in a prime scoring location. By the end of the period, two more goals had gone in, but it easily could have been more.

The team was ecstatic as they went to the dressing room in the intermission up four to one. The crowd gave them a standing ovation as they left the ice, and while most knew it was led by one player, the team still felt proud to have been a part of it. There were still forty minutes left to play in the game, and they were all eager to get right back to it.

Frank decided there was no need to talk to the boys during the intermission, and he stepped outside the dressing room to wait, absentmindedly watching the Zamboni as it cleaned the ice. He was close enough to an open gap in the hallway that he could hear a few fans talking. They were, of course, excitedly discussing Byers' terrific start to the game.

“Wouldn't see me settin' foot in Loon's Lake, I tell ya,” one fan said loudly, “but I gotta say...that kid can play. Prolly gonna be in the show someday.”

“Heard the OHL got a scout here, you know,” another said. “Kid's gotta commit to Moose Track hockey, though. Can't have any of the Loonie stuff, you know. Them skills is good 'n all, but it's the blue collar work that's gonna get him where he needs ta go, eh!”

Frank rolled his eyes at that. The old hockey crowd never changed. They loved “tough hockey”. Big brawls and lots of rough, chippy play. A player like Byers, who could score at will, wasn't quite as beloved as a player who could punch a person in the face while blood poured down his face.

Until he won a championship, of course. Once he did that, though, it meant he was tough, whether he punched someone or not. Ah, the simple logic of the old school hockey crowd.

Frank used to think the same way. Tough hockey such as these fans were talking about was entertaining. But ultimately, he loved hockey for being hockey, and not for being wrestling on ice. What Byers had done out there in the first period...that was truly entertaining. Sadly, it would take further feats of his impressive skill to convince some of these fans. He was, after all, a Loon's Lake kid.

After what seemed like an eternity, the time finally came for the second period to begin. Each team seemed eager to get back out on the ice, and Frank knew that his team was in for another difficult push from their opponents. The score was somewhat lopsided, but other than Byers' star plays, it was still clear that Deer Valley had the superior overall team.

They scored a goal within the first couple of minutes in the period. Frank immediately felt the tension on the bench when the puck went in. Hockey was like that. Even with a multi-goal lead, a team couldn't help but feel doubt when the score became one goal closer. Momentum was a scary thing, and leads could disappear quick.

Deer Valley kept up the pressure, only falling back to a defensive game when Byers took the ice. They weren't going to make the mistake of cheating for the slightest bit of offence with him on the ice, and they approached defending him much better in the second period. One player stuck to him when he didn't have the puck, but two were always close enough to swarm him when he did get it. He still made a number of great passing plays, but his teammates were being overwhelmed by the size of the defenders getting on them right away, making those passes less dangerous.

When the Bucks scored halfway through the third to make it a one goal game, Frank called a timeout. He knew he needed to slow the pace and settle his players down. Their confidence was lacking with the increased pressure they were under, so Frank wanted to give them some way to get their offensive game going again. If they could kill the Bucks' momentum this period, he could find a way to shut things down for the final period. They just needed to get back on track quickly before they lost their lead.

Frank drew up a play and his players looked up at him in shock as he laid out a plan. It wasn't particularly clever, but it relied on the skill and speed he knew his players possessed. Of course, Byers was the key to it all, but they all needed to be in on it. As the referee signalled for the teams to line up for the faceoff again, the players nodded. They trusted him, and they trusted their skill.

Byers won the faceoff and immediately went to the bench as his teammates moved the puck up the zone. This seemed to surprise the opposing players, who scrambled to make a line change, not wanting to have their designated checkers tire out before Byers took the ice again.

The Moose managed to get into the offensive zone in the confusion and started to cycle the puck, circling around the opposing net and pressuring the Deer Valley defence. In desperation, one of the defencemen managed to poke the puck out of the zone, forcing a Moose Track player to circle back, but the pressure remained.

And as the Moose Track defenceman moved the puck back up the ice, he jumped onto the bench, the door opening just ahead as he chipped the puck forward. Byers hopped on the ice and took it, taking off with his incredible speed. The crowd gasped at the quick play, and the opposing team sensed danger immediately.

In desperation, two Bucks players rushed Byers, but he sidestepped them easily, getting himself into the open with two of his teammates streaking into the zone ahead of him. He passed the puck quickly to Tanner, who was closest, and then positioned himself behind, picking up his pace to charge the net.

One of the Deer Valley checkers that had been on him most of the night took off after Byers, ignoring the offensive play ahead.

Tanner faked a pass to the opposite winger, causing a Bucks defender to dive to the ice, leaving only one in front of the goalie. Byers sped ahead, too fast for the checker behind him. As he did, Tanner fired a shot, the defender unable to block it, but the goalie making the easy save.

Unfortunately for the goalie, the rebound went straight to the other winger. The puck landed on his stick and he faked a shot, causing the defender and goalie to both dive wildly towards him. The defender's body was in the way of passing the puck back to Tanner, though, so he slipped the puck back to where Byers was charging in from centre ice.

Byers reached the puck at full speed, his stick all the way back to hit it with everything he had as he launched it forward. The checker behind him was chasing with everything he had, too slow for the smaller, shiftier Byers.

But as the puck went in for Byers' hat trick goal, Frank tensed, sensing a dangerous collision.

Too slow to reach Byers, but too big and with too much momentum to stop, the Deer Valley checker crashed hard into the freshman star player. With Byers off balance from taking his shot, and his own momentum sending him forward, his legs were swept out from under him and he rocketed feet first into the boards behind the net.

There were three times in which a hockey arena full of fans was gripped by silence...

One of those times was the moment a player's career was ended.

Theodore Byers screamed in agony.