Odd Man Rush

When Stephane Matteau was traded

to the Rangers at the deadline,

he figured he'd just be a spare player,

waiting around in case someone got hurt.

That was March 1994. Two months later...

He's off to the Devil's place,

across ice into the far corner.

Matteau swoops in to intercept.

Matteau behind the net.

Swings in front, he scores!

Matteau, Matteau!

Matteau, Stephane Matteau!

And the Rangers have one more hill to climb, baby!

And it's Mount Vancouver!

The Rangers are headed to the finals!

Which they went on to win that year.

That's the thing about hockey.

As long as you're on the ice, you have a chance.

I was at that Rangers game. Seven years old.

Got to see some players leave MSG on 31st Street afterwards.

Never forget it.

Matteau gave me a thumbs up.

Mom, I told you. Don't wash my jersey every time.

That's me.

And as far back as I can remember,

all I could think about was hockey.

You forgot this last practice.

Coach, why can't we change on the fly?

Next year.

Can we at least keep score?

Let's focus on having fun.

Winning is fun.

And the things that will take you

much further than hockey ever will.

Like discipline, teamwork, and leadership.

Come on, Bobby.

You know no one on this team is going to the NHL.

Now, let's go get some pizza!

Someone has to play for the Rangers in 15 years.

Sanders streaks through the middle,

splits the D-men.

Think that's funny, Luke?

What are you going to do about it?

I figured.

Mr. Sanders, put your weapon away.

Morning, lads.

Morning.

Mr. Sanders, Watkins, blazers.

Mr. Watkins, last week it was your left loafer.

Now your blazer?

It was right here, Mr. Demeny, I promise!

At recess you can tell me your action plan

for becoming responsible.

Now.

"We know what we are but know not what we may be."

Shakespeare.

Today's assignment is a gift to your future self.

Each of you will write a letter to yourself, and seal it.

I will mail your letter to you in 15 years.

Write about what you hope you may be.

Sitting in this classroom,

there may be a conductor of the philharmonic...

chief justice of the Supreme Court.

And perhaps the owner of the New York Rangers

ice hockey team.

You have 15 minutes.

Think about the future.

"Dear me..."

I knew exactly who I was going to be,

and it wasn't the owner of the Rangers.

- Ah, the new guy from New York. - That's me.

- Stewey. - Bobby.

- Welcome aboard. - Glad to be here.

- How's it look? - Looks good.

So, you want to get your name and number

up in the rafters like Clearys?

- Absolutely. - Okay, skate hard.

Keep your mouth shut.

- And don't be barking at the refs, got it? - Got it.

- Good luck. - Thanks.

I played forward for two seasons.

And then this.

L four and five are really herniated,

and they're just pressing on this nerve.

I'm really surprised that the pain in your leg

hasn't started until now.

So then what's the deal, more epidurals?

No, I just don't think they'll work at this point.

Okay, look, how do I get back on the ice?

I mean, maybe if the Rangers draft you in the first round,

a second surgery could make sense,

but I can't recommend that to you right now.

Until other alternatives are explored.

To manage the pain.

Like any normal person, I got a second opinion,

and WebMD convinced me I had tertiary syphilis.

Whatever that is.

Then came alternative therapies.

Electric stimulation just spread MRSA.

Acupuncture with Dr. Wong cured my allergies,

but not my back.

And hypnosis didn't do shit.

These didn't really do anything either.

Although two of them on an empty stomach

did turn Science B47: Cosmic Connections

into a transcendent experience.

I even got a B plus on my final project.

A diorama of Sombrero Galaxy.

Yeah.

The surgery was a success,

but the recovery kept me off the ice through graduation.

If I wanted to play hockey again,

my only option was to find

a minor league team located in an area

that didn't have internet access

so they wouldn't be able to look up my stats from college.

Figure skating was an hour ago.

That was a dog shit call, ref.

That was a great call.

Two minutes till full time.

Right side, idiots!

As a reminder,

after last Saturday's incident

alcohol will not be served after the first period.

What did you do to get here?

I think it was hooking or tripping.

I don't know. It was a dogshit call.

No, no, no, no, no.

Why is a Harvard guy playing hockey here?

Can I get an autograph for my ten-year old son?

You got a pen?

You played with Matthew Sullivan at Harvard.

You must still be friends, no?

They say he's going to be NHL rookie of the year.

He's my son's favorite player.

All right, I'll tell you what.

You shave ten seconds off my penalty,

I'll get you a signed jersey from him.

Six seconds.

Game worn jersey.

Fine.

- Eight seconds. - Yeah.

My address.

You're free!

Now, we all have our stories as to how we got here.

While I was in college,

that guy was in a Kazakhstani prison.

Guard, not inmate. I think.

This guy, best athlete on the team.

Apparently competed in the last winter Olympics

in pairs figure skating.

Doesn't really matter that I can't pronounce any of their names.

We're all laser-focused on the game.

And no matter how many fans show up, or don't...

the clock's always ticking.

And someone's always watching.

Yeah!

Well done! Keep it up, lads!

And the beauty of scoring a game's first goal

in these European minor leagues...

You're set with groceries for the week.

Nice goal tonight.

You studied this in Holland, right?

Um, it was Belgium, actually.

My main sponsor pulled out a week ago,

so the team went bankrupt.

Happens in Germany, too.

You're wasting your time.

I don't know, man. It kind of feels like a step up to me.

With that. It hasn't worked in two years.

Living the dream, aren't we?

Jesus, fuck.

Shit.

There are two moments you never forget.

The first time you walk into a locker room...

and the last.

And that's how they let you know.

They take your pants.

Cut or traded?

Traded, part of a package deal.

Where to?

Up.

Up like what?

Up like North or like a higher league?

Both.

When I was a kid,

I thought that there was some sort of correlation

between how far North you are

and how good the hockey is.

You know, like Buffalo was better than New York City,

Toronto was better than Buffalo, you get the idea.

By that logic, I should probably be surrounded

by a bunch of Sidney Crosby's here.

Holy shit.

Hey, uh...

Hey.

Um...

You from around here?

Yeah, not too far, a couple Swedish miles.

Cool.