cup win

not only do i want the penguins NOT to visit the white house this year, i also want them to give the most thinly veiled excuses possible when asked. like oh, sorry we can’t be at the white house… sidney’s got a cold… tanger is washing his hair that day… geno just forgot how to speak english… not that we’d expect his russian to be too much trouble for the current white house staff, but all the same, 

two possible outcomes of the stanley cup championship 2017:
  • pens win: yeahhh go pens, two stanley cups in a row and they're killin it, a great way to end a season that could be flower's last with the pens
  • preds win: yeahhh go preds, pk fuckin deserves it man, a great way to end a season in which they fuckin creamed racists and homophobes
  • final thoughts: no downsides, everything is great, i love hockey

I think as a fandom we don’t talk enough about Bitty in the NHL.

I mean, I know he loves pies but he does love Hockey. There’s a lot of stuff in year one about how Jack plays better with Bittle on his line - the coaches say it and Bob suggests it on the parents weekend too. It seems like the kind of thing Georgia Martin might pick up on. And she’s a little hesitant because she KNOWS about Jack and Bitty and doesn’t want to mess with relationship dynamics but…

So Bitty gets drafted to the HNL. Or, rather, spends half a season playing for the AHL: raising his fitness levels and getting some help getting over the final bits of his checking fear. Then someone’s injured and he’s called up and when he gets on a line with Jack it’s just as magic as always.

They are amazing on the ice together. You can almost feel all the people who’ve inevitably criticise Bitty for being too small or too ‘delicate’ going quiet when they realise just how fucking good he and Jack are together on the ice.

And it’s great for Jack and Bitty. No Bitty at home alone for a lump of the season, when Jack’s off playing, Bitty’s right there with him. A five game roadie is still hell but it’s less hell when you’re boyfriend’s there every night to tell you hs loves you. They sit together on the plane and bus and room together (obviously) and it’s pretty awesome. And they bring a kind of stability to the team which really helps.

Then, in Bitty’s first full year of the NHL, they win the Stanley Cup.

Bitty gets the winning goal. With 30 seconds on the clock.

And he’s flashing back to the Yale game in their first year of college because he KNOWS how much winning means to Jack. So he turned to look for him on the ice when the wistle blows and Jack is just there grinning and lifting Bitty up into his arms and kissing him in front of the cameras and the Stanley Cup and everyone because he is so fucking proud of Bitty for that goal.

And then they’re basically like hockey royalty and super famous and in love and they have their cup day on their wedding day and then they have to win another cup together so they can put their baby in it and it’s awesome.

Some Things Kent Has Said to the Rookies While Sober: (See Drunk version here)

1. (About his blind date) “He’s a nice guy, but he kissed me and then he left me at the door? What the fuck?” (“Maybe he wants to take it slow?”) “I’m not the fucking Pope, James. I’m horny now.” (“The Pope doesn’t—”) “Maybe I need to flash my ankles some more. I’ll wear booty shorts for the next one.”

2. “I hope everyone here knows that if a—” (shouting) “—hot, tall, single dad in this establishment would like to buy me a drink and take me home tonight, I would literally leave all my friends in a heartbeat—” (turning back to rookies) “—Sorry. I see you guys like everyday.”

3. (On why he isn’t speaking to Jeff) “Jeff convinced me to watched ‘Me Before You’ yesterday. He promised me nobody dies. I cried the entire time when I was trying to order takeout afterwards. And then I cried on the toilet. I’m so fucking pissed. I can’t even look at him right now.”

4. “Dom and I are going to sing ‘I Have Nothing’ for the AcesTV special. I practiced every single fucking night in the shower this past week, and my neighbors filed two complaints against me, so just letting you know to like, get ready to eat my entire ass.”    

5. “My favorite things? Kit dressed up in one of those cute bowties they make for cats on Etsy. Mashkov’s ass in nice jeans. Extra guac in my burrito. Finding the love of my life and then realizing that they’re actually a prince or Batman. And winning the Cup every year. I don’t ask for a lot. It’s not a lot.”  

+1. “The lighting in the locker room is amazing, what the hell, did they change the bulbs? It makes my abs look fantastic. Someone help me sext my husband, he’s gonna want to see this.” (Smacks rookie’s arm.) “No, not like that. Take the photo from the top-down, do you not know your angles? God.”

Shortly after the overdose, Bob decided to tell Jack the story of why he really got put in the Stanley Cup as a baby.  It was Bob’s way of thanking the cup.

“After I won my first cup,” he told Jack, “I realized I’d achieved my dream, and I had married this amazing woman, but something still felt like it was missing.  I wanted to be a father.”  He told Jack how he and Alicia had tried to have a baby, but it just wasn’t happening.  As the months dragged on with more of the same, they started to get worried.  

“And even when you were worrying you’d never truly be happy you managed to win the cup again, yeah?  That’s the moral of the story?” Jack snapped.  Bob shook his head, reached out to run a hand over Jack’s back, like he could smooth down his son’s frayed nerves.  

“Non, non, non, that would be a terrible moral.  Actually my stats were worse that year than when I was a rookie.  But my team was incredible, and we made it to the cup again.  And here’s where the story gets good, you see, because I’d heard all kinds of wild legends through the league about ‘cup magic’ and how sometimes it would grant wishes”

“Or turn you into a fucking penguin,” Jack scoffed.

“Well I was playing for the Canadiens at the time, so I suppose there wasn’t much risk involved, but there was a whole lot of desperate hope.So on my cup day, after everyone else left, I sat down and had a chat with it,” he gestures to the table they’re sitting at.  “Right at this kitchen table.”

“Please tell me that’s the only part of this story that happened at this table,” Jack groaned.  Bob laughed.

This story, yes.”

“Papaaaa,”  Jack picked up his bowl of cereal and pointedly continued eating without letting his food touch the table.

“Oh for God’s sake, Jack, this table has been cleaned many times since, put your food down for a bit, I’m trying to have a moment with you here.”

“Alright, alright, fine.”  Jack obediently set the bowl aside and faced his father.

“As I was saying…” Bob cleared his throat.  “I talked to the cup.  I told it I didn’t care if I ever won it again.  All I wanted was a son.  If it would give me that, I promised, I wouldn’t ask to win so much as a faceoff for the rest of my life.  And I promised that I would love my son - that I would love you - unconditionally, more than anything in the world.”

“And you won a fuckton more awards anyway.”

“But,” Bob countered, “I didn’t win the cup again until after you were born when I was with the Pens.  And so when your mother brought you onto the ice to see me, I wanted us to put you in the cup, but it wasn’t supposed to pass along some kind of hockey magic and ensure the Zimmermann dynasty or whatever the fuck ESPN likes to say, alright?  We did it as a thank you.  We wanted the cup to see what a beautiful baby we had, and to feel how incredibly loved you were.”  Bob ran a hand over Jack’s newly-cropped hair, feeling the strands against his palm, almost as soft as when he used to sit next to Bob in his high chair smashing banana all over the tray.  “I kept my promise too,”  Bob said.  “I love you.  Unconditionally.  More than anything in the world.  And your mother and I just want to help you be happy, whatever that looks like.”  He smiled warmly at his son, letting all the pride he usually kept a lid on to keep from embarrassing Jack bubble up to the surface.  Jack looked down at his hands.

“How can you not be disappointed?  Look at me.”  Jack’s shoulders hunched in, shrinking him down, and Bob pressed his hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, rubbing circles in the way that always used to put him right to sleep as a child.

“I will always be proud of you, hockey or no.  Because you know what?”  Jack chanced a glance up at his father’s face and was held by his earnest expression.  “Winning the Stanley Cup isn’t even in my top hundred favorite memories anymore.  All of my best memories are with you and your mother.”  Jack didn’t say anything in response, and Bob was learning when to give him space to process, so he stood up, bending back down to kiss his son’s forehead as he snagged the now-soggy bowl of raisin bran from in front of him.

It took a few days for Bob to get a real response from Jack, and in the meantime he just left everything to percolate.  And then one night, Bob just couldn’t seem to fall asleep.  His knee wasn’t quite hurting, but it was on that edge where it just didn’t feel settled, and Alicia had been snoring, and at the back of his head he could feel some kind of humming, like he could feel the tense air in Jack’s room.  He’d gotten himself all worked up mulling that last one over until he had to get out of bed.  He stood in front of Jack’s bedroom door, looking at the light peeking out from below the doorjamb for minutes, listening to the sounds of floorboards creaking occasionally, pages rustling, a keyboard clacking.  After he’d gotten enough of the sounds of Jack just existing on the other side of the door to calm his racing heart, he went to the living room.  

He settled into the couch with a box of crackers and a nature documentary when he heard footsteps creaking on the stairs.  At first, he was expecting Alicia coming to call him back to bed, but the footfalls were too loud for her.  Bob tried not to look surprised when Jack rounded the corner, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Animal Planet.  He held up the crackers in greeting.

“Joining your old man for a midnight snack, eh?”

“Oh.  Um, sure.”  Jack padded over to the couch and made himself comfortable next to Bob, pulling down the afghan from the back of the sofa.  They stare at the TV in silence for a long while before Jack speaks up again, quietly.  “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“So…what exactly was better than winning the cup?”

NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

Keep reading

Carey Price has never won the Stanley Cup yet he’s considered a goalie god. Henrik Lundqvist hasn’t won one either yet he’s called “King Henrik”. Their skills destroyed the notion that you have to win a cup to be an amazing goalie.

Same thing goes with Alex Ovechkin. His skills and talent should not be defined by how many cups he hasn’t won. He is one of the best active players in the league no matter what, cup wins or no cup wins. It shouldn’t be a contest.

Skill and talent makes a great hockey player, not championship wins. Winning the Stanley Cup is a team effort, not individual.

someone: hey harry-

harry: yeah, i know, defeat voldemort, go to quidditch practice, win the cup, sass snape, defeat voldemort again if i have to, be nice to people, know what the fuck is going on, be the wizard you didn’t know you were gonna be when you were eleven, keep my friends alive please, risk your life for us all harry. do you want my internal organs too??? be the saviour harry, I GET IT

someone: i was just going to say “how are you” but-

harry: i’m FINE

3

One of my local newspapers got a little creative with celebrating the Pens Stanley Cup win and I’m so in love with it! It’s like a movie poster (feat. the Two Headed Monster) and where they have the production credits on the bottom of poster they WENT OFF, they start off with our fearless director Coach Sully and then they go on listing each player (with their position and playoff points broken down); each team they defeated (how many games were played in each round), and their regular season standings. I’m holding onto this forever. It’s a gem. <3