#ovechkin better sleep with one eye open

[prettylittledevil13]

nico gets his shit rocked by ovechkin 👎👎

dawson goal on 250th game 👍👍

[hockeyplayerstories]

Alex Ovechkin | Twins

Authors note: another story that was written on my phone at camp, a little longer but I hope y’all enjoy it anyways 

Hearing the doorbell ring at about 3 am in the morning wasn't normal for the Ovechkins especially a day after the Washington capitals got home with the cup. Being paranoid about this sleep interrupter, Alex went to get the door instead of his wife. Before answering the door, Alex sees three officers standing outside through the window of the door. Not knowing if he had done something wrong or not, he opens the front door with a confused look on his face. He squints and blinks his eyes rapidly when the biggest officer of the three men stood at his door suddenly shines his bright flashlight in his face for a better look, even though the front porch lights are on.

No words were even said at this point, Alex is silent due to him still half asleep but his eyes widen when the officer with a clipboard in his hand nod his head while saying to the other officers "yeah that's him, no doubt about that" the other two agree. Ovi finally finds his voice "is something wrong officers?" He asks them as the one who hasn't spoken a word yet walks away from them talking into the walky talky strapped to their chest piece. "We ask of you to come with us down to the station to sort out a situation that involves you and another women that has happened about 16 years ago" once again Ovi is confused. "Of course, can my wife come?" He asks "yes get changed and tell your wife, we will wait here" the big officer, the only one left there, says.

Alex is quick to get dressed and tell his wife what was going on, a couple minutes later they are in a cop car at 3:30 am on their way to the police station. Before going into the station, both Alex and his wife are put through a pat down search, when nothing dangerous was found they are let in and lead directly to a investigation room by an older officer. Entering the room they are greeted by a man and a woman, who both look very serious and said to be lawyers from child services. Finished with the introductions the Ovechkins are encouraged to take a sit in order to begin to talk and they do so. In the duration of the explanation of the situation, 20 minutes, Alex sums it up in his head: about 16 years ago he and a woman had a one night stand which resulted in the birth of two girls that were DNA tested positive match with Ovi, having asked if he didn't mind taking a blood test to see if the mother wasn't lying about being the father 5 minutes into the meeting. With this information in his head, Alex turns to his wife with sorry eyes, to which she just rubs his arm and says that its okay because it happened 16 years ago. "Ok, why were we notified now and why not years ago?" Alex asks. "Well the mother was just recently arrested for DUI along with many other things and just told us that you were their father and that if anyone were to take care of them, you are the only one she'd trust.” the women says. With that said, Alex nods his head and the women continues "now that you know of them you have options you can choose" Alex is confused "what options?" his wife asks "Well if you won't take them they will be sent-" the male starts to say which Alex is quick to turn down that option “oh no we will take them, no way in hell I will let another person take care of my own children" when Alex finished saying that he looked towards his wife who nodded her head in agreement. When he turned back to the lawyers, they had smiles on their faces "good choice, we have met them a couple of hours before this meeting and they are wonderful children." For the next hour, the Ovechkins are told everything that child services know about the twins, Ovi smiled when he hears they like and play hockey but slightly frowns when the fact that they are half Canadian half Russian was added in but he smiled after a few seconds, he just nodded his head and thought to himself that he didn't care if they weren't full Russian. With everything is said and done, Alex and his wife agree to meet the twins later on during the day. They even agree to meet them in their natural element, the local ice rink. About 30 minutes after the meeting was finished , Alex and his wife are driven back home. They talk amongst themselves quietly ,even though the officer doesn't understand Russian, about what that means now for them. Their house was big enough for them to live in. Starting a family has been in their plans since the day they got married and even though Alex and his wife didn’t have them together, his wife was happy to finally have company for when her husband went on road trips and to take care of them.

The moment the door of their home shut, the phone rang with the female lawyer on the line just letting them know that the twins get to the rink at 8 am in the morning and only leave some time in the afternoon and asked what time they thought they’d come by to meet them. “Well we just got home so we might need some sleep before we meet them, how about 10 am?” Alex looks to his wife and she nods her head agreement “10 am is perfect Mr Ovechkin, they like to stay on the ice for most of the morning so that’s where they most likely be at 10 am. Should I tell them you are coming or do you want to surprise them?” Alex thought before saying “no I want to surprise them, they know I am coming to meet them anyways” the women agreed that that was perfect and said her goodbyes to end the phone call. 10 am was about 5 hours away so they decided to sleep for four to have at least one hour to get ready.

After a couple of hours of sleep they were ready to meet the twins but for some reason, Alex was nervous. He didn’t really know why probably because they are teens and not babies, they could say they didn’t want to live with him or, worse, that they hated him already- ‘no you can’t think like that’ Alex thought to himself, stopping in his tracks as well as his wife’s in front of the door to the actual ice rink inside the arena. From where they were standing at the top of the rink entre way looking down at the ice, they had a good view of the ice without the people on the rink seeing them. Alex smiled and looked at his wife who had a smile as well as a tear of joy going down her face “ready?” Alex asks her softly, she nods her head. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out then opens the door. It doesn’t take them long to get to ice level and the twins didn’t even see them which surprised the pair but they understood that hockey was everything to the twins, basically all they ever do during the day.

It took about 10 minutes for the twins to finally notice them being watched from the bench because they were so focused on the drill they doing, working on their skating Alex had said to his wife when she asked what they were doing. Alex just kept smiling, watching, impressed by their skills. He is currently having a staring contest with the twins until they look at each other before one, he believes is Y/N, signals to the other, Y/T/N, with her head towards the bench where Alex and his wife are seated, Alex remembers what he was told in order to tell who is who like how Y/N is slightly bigger than Y/T/N as well as in height and Y/N’s shoulders are slightly more square than Y/T/N’s. Different hair color as well Y/N has brown hair while Y/T/N has dirty blonde. The pair stop just a few meters away from the bench, now closer Alex takes note of their eye color. Y/T/N has blue eyes while Y/N has hazel eyes “Hi dad Hi mom” they say at the same time, smiling. “Hi girls” his wife responds for Alex who is just mesmerized by them, smiling back at them. “Are you coming to skate with us or?” Y/T/N asks, after a few minutes of silence with the twins shifting their weight from one side to the other, with a curious look on her face “I will but next time like tomorrow. Today I just want to watch you two show off your skills” Alex replies with a smile. The twins pout before nodding their heads “ok!” they say before they skate back to where they were and begin to practice their stick handling with Alex and his wife watching with love for them in their hearts begging to form. He couldn’t believe how good they were taking this situation, they already loved him and his wife by the fact they kept saying ‘watch this mom and dad!’ a little fast but he will get used to it, for sure.    

#####please let me know if you see mistakes or if you don’t understand what is going on in the story. PS. slightly bigger; I don’t mean fat, I have seen some women that are petit and then some that look really muscular. If you don’t understand, please notify me####

[fourthlinefic]

Diversions IV

It’s been 84 years,,,

Sid should have known that something was up when Kris invited him round for lunch straight after practise. Usually, he gave Sid at least a day’s notice of any social engagement. If Sid had taken time to think about it in the sudden recalibration of his day, he would have realised that it was one of the places that Kris knew that they wouldn’t be interrupted by cameras or any of the five guys who had ‘emergency’ keys to Sid’s back door.

He was halfway through a ham and salad sandwich (on rye, no mayo) when Kris sprung his trap. But by then, he already had an Alexander in his lap and nowhere to run.

“So,” Kris started, spearing a cherry tomato with his fork. “How are things with you and Jamie these days?”

“Is this- is this is an appropriate topic for little ears?” Sid said, nodding at Alex's dark head. He didn't appear to be listening, instead straining across the kitchen counter to try and reach his juice cup. Sid handed it to him and got a broad smile in return.

“Who's Jamie?” Alex asked, after he'd taken a long pull of juice.

“Just a friend of Sid's. You met him at the rink remember?” Kris said. Alex shrugged. “Hey, why don't you go find mama, eh? See what she's up to.”

“Why?”

“Because me and Sid need to have a chat about some grown up things.”

“What sort of things?” Alex asked.

“Things for grown ups,” Sid said, hoisting him under his arms and depositing him gently on the floor. He and Kris watched as he toddled off, though at nearly five years old, you couldn’t really call him a toddler anymore. Kris found he never felt older than when he noticed how big the kids were getting. He turned back to Sid.

“So. Jamie.”

“I told you before,” Sid sighed, taking another bite of sandwich. “We’re just messing around. It’s just fun. And none of your business.”

Kris wrinkled his nose at Sid. He would have thought that at thirty years old, someone would have taught him not to talk with his mouth full. “I mean, it kind of is my business since you started up with a teammate. And no offence, Sid, but,” he paused, because Sid was right. This was not a conversation he wanted being overheard by little ears. He cast a quick eye around and dropped his voice anyway, because you never knew. “But you're kind of a slut, and not everyone is used to the Sidney Crosby Treatment.”

“That’s not fair,” Sid frowned. “It’s not like I’ve had much of a chance at dating long term, y’know?”

And maybe Sid had a point, except Kris knew his friend, and he knew that Sid felt no remorse at his perpetual single-hood. Kris sighed. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Sid.”

“I know, bud,” Sid smiled. “And in my defence, you were there when I swore off Seguin. And the thing with Giroux doesn't count, we were in Prague.”

“I was there the last time you swore off Seguin, but you say that after every Dallas game,” Kris pointed out. Sid glared at him, and Kris stared back. He should be glad he wasn't bringing up his history with Ovechkin, or Weber, and he was pretty sure Taylor Hall was involved at one point. Sid sighed resignedly and shrugged.

“It’s different now. He’s got this regular thing going on with Benn,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought of exclusivity.

“You know, most people would call that a healthy, monogamous relationship, Sidney.”

“No, because then that would mean me and Jamie are in a relationship.”

Kris blinked. “I'm sorry, What?”

“Having sex exclusively with one person doesn't mean you're in a relationship,” Sid said with a shrug, and maybe if it was anyone else saying that, Kris would have been inclined to agree with them. Except.

“No no no, wait. No. You're sleeping only with Jamie?”

“I mean, it's not like I have many options these days. Most guys are either too young or married,” Sid shrugged. Kris sighed, rubbed his fingers against his temples. He had long ago come to the realisation that Sid was a special kind of emotionally emancipated. He had accepted that. It was just a Sid Thing, like so many other Sid Things. But Jesus, did he worry about him sometimes.

“That is so far from the point I'm trying to make here, Sid. When was the last time you were seeing only one guy?”

The long pause before Sid could answer would be enough to make his mother weep. It nearly made Kris weep. Just when he thought he was going to have to spell it out for him, Sid’s eyes suddenly flashed with realisation. He put his sandwich down on his plate, and blinked at Kris.

“Fuck. We’re dating.”

Sid eyed his phone as it started buzzing along his kitchen counter. Flower's grinning face beamed up at him, the top of Estelle’s head just visible in the frame of the photo. The ache of Flower’s drafting wasn’t as painful as when it was fresh, not since Flower had found a decent phone plan, but Sid couldn’t help the half sigh that escaped him before picking up his mobile.

“Whatever Kris told you, it's a lie,” he said as he put him on speaker, and Flower's laugh crackled down the line. Sid felt his own mouth twitch upwards in response. It was still so easy to fall into the familiar patterns of chirper and chirpee, the distance doing little to diminish Flower’s ability to verbally destroy Sid any chance he got.

“Hello to you too, Sidney.” Flower said. “I hear I should congratulate you? That you're finally growing up?”

“Don't you guys have better things to do than gossip about my love life?” Sid asked, going back to stirring the chili on the stove. He'd remembered to leave out the bell pepper this time, how Jamie had picked all the pieces out and left them on the side of his plate. And okay, yeah. He could see how maybe this whole thing had turned into dating.

“Sid, you know you're the most interesting part of all of our lives,” Flower said, and Sid could still pick out the teasing edge in his voice.

“Duper’s maybe,” Sid allowed, smiling at Flower's snort of laughter. “You and Kris should still be thinking about hockey.”

“Well the thing is, Sidney, we actually do have interests outside of hockey unlike-”

“How am I an interest outside of hockey?” Sid demanded. “I am about as hockey as you can get. I am literally dating a hockey player.”

“Aw, you said the D word!” Flower cooed and Sid seriously considered just hanging up on him. “We only gossip because we care. I’m just mad I’ve had to hear about all this second hand from Tanger. What’s he like?”

“Tanger? Uh, he’s about six foot, very pretty, great ass. Spills all my secrets to the French-Canadian mafia.”

“Sid…”

“Oh, you mean Jamie. Yeah, he also has a great ass.”

“Is he good to you?” Flower asked, and he sounded so concerned and exasperated and fond, all at the same time that Sid couldn’t help but feel a little bad for being such a dick about the whole thing. He turned the heat down on the chilli so that he could turn his full attention to Flower.

“He’s great, Flower. He’s very sweet and thoughtful. And he gave me his instagram password.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here. What’s up?”

And this is what Sid loved about Flower. Kris and Olli treated this whole thing like something with an expiry date, something that Sid was going to get bored of and drop as quickly as he had picked it up. And Sid couldn’t blame them really. A precedent had been set years ago, a pattern that had been traced over and over. So he couldn’t blame them for being more concerned with Jamie’s heart than his own. But Flower had never put up with Sid’s love ‘em and leave ‘em outlook on life. As much as Sid claimed he hated it, hated the judging eyes of his friend, he knew that Flower just wanted him to be better. It mattered to him what Sid’s heart was going through.

“I dunno,” Sid sighed. “He’s just young, and probably way better to me than I deserve. I just can’t help feeling like it’s going to fall apart. And I don’t even know if we have enough of something to fall apart. Sometimes I feel like it’s just sex, but then I look at him and I just feel. I don’t even know what I feel. It’s just, it feels good. And I’m probably gonna fuck it up.”

“I think you need to talk to Jamie,” Flower said after a second. “I know how much you hate that, but you need to figure out what you have here. I'm just glad you're moving on, you know?”

“Uh, no I don't know,” Sid said, caught off guard. “Moving on from what?”

“You and Geno. You had that whole thing-” Flower suddenly stopped, as if the line had been cut. There was a pause before, “you know what, it doesn't matter. Forget I said anything. What are you up to tonight?”

“I've got some guys coming over for food and PS4, but what do you mean me and Geno?”

“I just mean you were both really into each other for a while and nothing really happened and I don’t think you ever got over that. But now you’ve got Jamie, so it’s all good, right?”

“Wait, do you think I’ve never dated because I was waiting for Geno? Flower, me and Geno were always just friends.” Sid said, torn between laughter and horror. “He’s beautiful and he plays beautiful hockey, and yeah maybe I was a little bit in love with him once, but no. I sleep around because I enjoy it, not because I’m hung up on Geno. Which is some backwards fucking logic by the way.”

“Okay, okay!” Flower cried. “Crisse, sorry for thinking you have human emotions. So you're not in love with Geno, that's cool.”

Sid went back to stirring the chilli, pursing his lips when he felt it starting to stick to the bottom of the pan. Like his mother before him, Sid kept a bottle of cheap(ish) red wine open for cooking, and he slopped another half a cup into the pan.

“If I burn this chilli because of you, I'm flying down to Vegas to beat you up myself.”

“I'd like to see you try, Croz. You wouldn't be able to get past Reaver.”

“I think I could take him,” Sid hummed as he fished a tablespoon of out the cutlery draw to taste the chilli with. “I’ve seen him fight, could probably get in his head a bit.”

“And I’ve seen you fight,” Flower said, his tone of voice telling Sid exactly what he thought of his attempts at dropping gloves. “So, you’re not in love with G. Are you in love with Jamie?”

Sid almost choked on a mouthful of chilli. “Oh for-”

“Joking, I'm joking!” Flower cackled. “Man, I wish I could have seen your face.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Sid muttered, and swore when he noticed that he’d spilled chilli down his shirt. That Flower had made him spill chilli down his shirt. “I’ve gotta go change, and the boys are gonna be here soon. Can we talk later? Properly?”

“You just want to get out of talking about feelings,” Flower said, and then steamrolled over Sid’s protests. “No, I get it, you don’t want to talk to your best friend about the things that are most important to you. You’d rather talk to Mr Degrassi. Yeah, talk to Tanger about that.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now,” Sid warned, his finger hovering over his phone’s screen. “If you have anything nice to say, now’s the time to get it in.”

“Have a good night, Sid. Be good to your man, eh?”

“I’ll try. And I’ll see you around.”

“See you in the fourth round, baby,” Flower laughed, and Sid hung up on him with a smile.

[hastybooks]

Would you be open to writing some Ovi?Sid - 'cause I LOVE the pairing and it's always nice to see them playing nice without Geno involved (playing referee)

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

For Alex Ovechkin, another playoff failure and wasted year

WASHINGTON, D.C. – Alex Ovechkin stood in the Washington Capitals dressing room, his back pressed up against a flat-screen television, surrounded by reporters. His voice was a despondent mumble. Sweat had cascaded down his forehead to under his eye, resembling a teardrop. He was answering questions for which he didn’t really have the answers, because when you consider yourself the best team in the NHL and then fail to advance further than the second round of the playoffs, and do this annually, it’s inexplicable.

This could have been 2009, after Game 7 against the Penguins. Or 2010, when the Canadiens shocked them. Or 2011, when the Lightning swept them. Or those Game 7 losses to the Rangers in 2012 and 2013 and 2015. Or last season, losing to the Penguins in six games in overtime.

Instead, it was after Game 7 against the Pittsburgh Penguins on Wednesday night: a 2-0 loss at Verizon Center in which Ovechkin didn’t create a goal, contributed to a Penguins goal and apparently flummoxed his coach to the point where he wanted to defer comment on his star forward rather than assess his play in the series, when asked about it in his press conference.

“I just, yeah … emotionally right now, I don’t want to answer that question,” said Capitals coach Barry Trotz. “I think ‘you win or lose as a team’ is probably my best answer right now. Emotionally, I don’t think I want to answer that question right now.”

In 13 playoff games, Ovechkin had five goals and three assists, skating to a minus-4. Against the Penguins, he had two goals and three assists. He had 51 shot attempts, 21 of them finding their mark. He had 32 minutes and 12 seconds of power play time, registering two assists but no goals.

In the last two games of the series, Ovechkin didn’t have a point and was a minus-3. That included a turnover in the third period in his own defensive zone, leading to Patric Hornqvist’s back-breaking backhand goal that made it 2-0.

“It was one of those turnovers where Nate [Schmidt] got caught in between me and the puck,” said goalie Braden Holtby.

Ovechkin’s lack of offense wasn’t so much an issue in Game 6, when the Capitals were pounding the Penguins with their bodies and on the scoreboard in a 5-2 rout. It was very much an issue in Game 7, as the Penguins were more composed and effective, and the Capitals desperately needed some proof of concept that their offensive chances would eventually solve Marc-Andre Fleury.

One of Ovechkin’s nearly did: a one-timer that deflected off of Fleury’s goalie stick. An inch left, or an inch right, and it goes in. But this is the Capitals in a Game 7, so of course it didn’t.

“I didn’t see Ovi on the other side. When they made a pass, I just tried to get across as quickly as possible. I was fortunate enough to get a piece of it,” said Fleury, who, uh, stroked his stick after the save. “I talk to my stick, maybe. I say ‘thank you and say good job.’”

In moments like that, it’s hard not to think about another robbery in a Game 7 by Fleury vs. Ovechkin: a deflating breakaway stop on him in 2009 during the first period.

Ovechkin would eventually score in that Game 7. Except Pittsburgh had a 5-0 lead by the time that he did.

His Game 7 output this postseason was only part of the story for Ovechkin in the playoffs. He had a rough go of it, and was far too ordinary in most games.

Was there some lingering injury, perhaps from the hit that Nazem Kadri of the Toronto Maple Leafs put on him in Game 5 in the first round? But then everyone plays hurt in the playoffs, as they say.

Then there was the demotion to the third line in the series against the Penguins. Trotz dropped Ovechkin down to play with Lars Eller and Tom Wilson, promoting Andre Burakovsky to play with Nicklas Backstrom and T.J. Oshie.

Ovechkin’s ice time dipped, while Burakovsky thrived on the top line.

Trotz said it was intended to give the Capitals better balance, citing the Penguins’ use of Phil Kessel on their third line last season. But Tom Wilson isn’t Carl Hagelin, Lars Eller isn’t Nick Bonino and … well, Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup champion according to Barack Obama, so Ovechkin isn’t Phil Kessel, either.

Ovechkin had 33 goals in 82 games in the regular season, after breaking the 50-goal mark in the previous three seasons. He was praised for playing within the team concept, and it didn’t hurt the Capitals thanks to their forward depth and the goaltending of Braden Holtby. But it was an uncharacteristic regular season; maybe we find out why now that it’s finished. Maybe we find out why he wasn’t a force in the playoffs, either.

I’ve been a staunch defender of Ovechkin in the postseason. The Capitals’ previous failures weren’t his fault, and they’re still not: He had three points in the opening two games of this series, and the Capitals lost both of them on home ice.

“We didn’t lose the series tonight, we lost it in the first three games, four games,” said Nicklas Backstrom after Game 7.

He’s also played well in previous Game 7s, for the most part, with three goals and three assists in his nine games.

But this one, against the Penguins, feels different. It feels like Ovechkin contributed more to another wasted opportunity in the Alex Ovechkin Era than he had in previous postseasons.

How is it possible that in a Game 4, a game the Penguins played without Sidney Crosby, that Ovechkin would go scoreless with two shots on goal and four shot attempts?

How is it possible that, in a Game 7 – a game where the Penguins has a patchwork blue line missing Kris Letang and Trevor Daley, that had been pounded into sand by the Capitals in the two previous games – Ovechkin couldn’t tally a point while Sidney Crosby, forever the Mozart to his Salieri, helped set up the Penguins’ first goal? And that, later, an Ovechkin turnover would help set up the Penguins’ second tally?

“Without the goals, you can’t win the game, and obviously blame on us,” said Ovechkin.

The blame game will be played by everyone who watched this series. The “trade Ovechkin” chorus that was silenced after the Capitals rallied from down 3-1 will be full-throated again. Much of the hockey world will point and laugh at his futility, while the rest of us mourn the notion that one of the greatest goal scorers in NHL history may end up with a “yeah, but…” attached to his legacy because the Capitals never won a Stanley Cup.

The futility is like a nightmare for Ovechkin, one whose details change with each sleep but whose psychological horrors are constant.

How the hell can you keep the faith after 97 playoff games and not one of them played in a championship round?

“We’re trying,” Ovechkin said. “We try to do our best.”

Perhaps, one day, it’ll be good enough to get past the second round.

—

Greg Wyshynski is a writer for Yahoo Sports. Contact him at puckdaddyblog@yahoo.com or find him on Twitter. His book, TAKE YOUR EYE OFF THE PUCK, is available on Amazon and wherever books are sold.

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