stanley cups finals

It was my wife’s birthday Wednesday. We went out to dinner (just like every other night), and as we finished up dessert, I couldn’t help but think about Sidney Crosby.

People always ask me, “What’s Sid like? What makes Sid so great?” Well, I do believe I have found the secret to his success.

It’s dessert.

He loves dessert, and it has been the driving force behind our playoff push.

From Magnolia Bakery in New York, to Georgetown Cupcakes, he refuses to be denied.

So if you’re ever questioning that dessert at the end of dinner, just remember, Sidney Crosby would … and it has worked out well for him.

—  Jeff Zatkoff

Time for more BITTYPOOTS AU, meaning the story @gutsybitsy and I are working on where Jack is the tormented audience to Bitty and Poots’ unhappy and unsatisfying relationship (Original post / fic tag). NOW FEATURING: established relationship Patater and excerpts from Bitty’s twitter!

(Also accidental outing to a safe/sympathetic audience, and gay gossip.)


Away games in Las Vegas have gotten a lot easier these days. During his rookie year, they meant pitched arguments with Kent that lasted hours and left them both exhausted in the morning. After Kent broke up with him, they meant a couple years of holing up early in his hotel room and eating room service while watching tape.

But now Las Vegas trips are, quite tentatively… nice.

Somehow the crucible of two Stanley Cup finals against each other in the last four years have left the Falcs and Aces with a permanent rivalry that is enthusiastic, respectful, warm, and friendly. It could so easily have been bitter–but if Jack were to name a single factor that turned the tide, it was Tater’s defection to Vegas. You couldn’t quite hate a man who skated over during breaks and asked how your children liked their birthday presents, who complimented you on your improved form and laughed about your inability to score on his goalie, and then laughed again when you did before putting his head down and putting all his energies to beating your pants off. Tater’s shoulders are broad enough to carry all of the game’s spirit, its pettiness and nobility, its competition and comradeship–and Kent, the burden of the C removed from him by Tater’s presence, began finding it easier to be magnanimous in victory, graceful in defeat.

And the two of them know Jack doesn’t like big parties, so they leave Tater’s other A to lead the grand night out with the Falcs and whisk Jack away to a quiet dinner at their apartment instead.

Keep reading

the NHL don’t cry challenge
  • goalies getting scored on in big games
  • post game interviews for teams after they’ve lost in the stanley cup final
  • locker clean out interviews with players who won’t be coming back
  • reading the trade logs 
Damage Control

(AU in which our good pal Bits is a trainer and Jack becomes accident prone so he can see his favorite doctor)

Jack Zimmermann doesn’t purposely go down after a hard check, but he doesn’t mind it too much either. There are always going to be other injuries on the ice too. Like when people spear him or a puck hits him in the face. His favorite type of injury is one where he goes down, but can get back up again after a quick examination. Why? Because he may or may not have the biggest crush on their trainer. The one that handles damage control right on the ice.

It was a home game, and an angry Shark was looking for revenge after Jack scored a goal. The Falconers were destroying the Sharks, who were fighting for a spot in the playoffs. The Falconers already secured their one way ticket to the Stanley Cup finals, but they weren’t going to throw the game either. Especially not on their own turf.

Jack’s thoughts are jumbled and his vision is swimming. He feels the cold of the ice on the back of his calves and incoherent voices speaking above him. Jack hardly remembers what even happened, all he remembers is being elbowed in the face and the sound of his helmet cracking against the plexiglass. Elbowing should earn whoever checked him a penalty, but Jack isn’t well enough to say anything.

Suddenly, a worried face is staring down at him, blonde hair looking like a halo under the bright lights of the stadium. Jack’s heart races as he hears the smooth tone of a southern accent.

“Zimmermann?” The trainer, Eric Bittle, holds up two fingers and drags them across Jack’s vision. Jack only focuses on the halo.

Keep reading

Back when Jack and Kent first started dating, they set a date to come out, draft day 2014. They’d be in the league for 5 years and everyone would be distracted by who got picked first rather than pay attention to them. After that it became like a mantra, whenever they missed eachother and wanted nothing more than to go on a real date they’d text it “2014.” Whenever they wanted to kiss eachother or hold hands in public, they’d whisper it, “2014.” It reminded them that they wouldn’t have to hide forever. When they won the memorial cup, holding it high above their heads, and Kent wanted nothing more than to kiss him then and there. But instead he dreamed of 5 years from then, being on the same team, with the Stanley Cup, and finally kissing Jack for everyone to see. Instead, he won alone. He had a great team, and it was more their victory than his, but they didn’t matter because they weren’t Jack. He went to the kegster, drunk, and angry, and sad, not because he hated Jack, but because years ago they had made a promise, and he knew it wasn’t realistic to keep, but on lonely nights or in crowded rooms he found himself whispering “2014″ to keep himself calm, even for years to come.

nhl commentators be like
  • *OT2 game 7 of stanley cup finals. it's capitals and ducks*
  • commentator 1: let's talk about mcdavid!
  • commentator 2: okay!
  • *ovechkin scores game winner, verizon center explodes, the capitals are screaming and crying and throwing their gloves everywhere*
  • commentators: *keep talking about mcdavid*
  • *ovi lifts and kisses the cup, passes it to nicky who is crying niagara falls, holtby wins conn smythe trophy*
  • commentator 2: ... and one day, mcdavid passed a puck!
  • commentator 1: WOW!! amazing!! no player can do that!
  • commentators: *still keep talking about mcdavid*
  • *ducks have already left the ice, capitals are now taking the cup to the locker room, fans are leaving satisfied*
  • commentators: and that's it from NBC, great things happened today-- we talked about mcdavid for no reason and totally ignored capitals winning their first cup in franchise history, good night!

It’s the stanley cup final. It’s overtime. the Washington Capitals could win their first ever stanley cup but they’re up agains the Blackhawks. The soul crushing, evil doing blackhawks trying to stop the Great 8 from the one thing that would get the media off his goddamn back.

It’s their third OT period, it’s game 7, teams are throwing their fourth lines on the ice so their top guys don’t die of exhaustion. And that’s when they see him. Number 46, Michael Latta, familiar face in red steps on the ice a dtermined look on his face. The caps are on a break away and he skates after them to back check except….they pass to him. WHAT IS THIS? MICHAEL LATTA SCOOOOOOOOOOORES the caps have WON THE SERIES. 

alex ovechkin wins the conn smythe. latts gets to lift the cup. andre calls him a #sweetiecake probably