Tag: nhl

Meet My Boys: Tom Wilson, Number 43

On By Bella BruceIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

The first in a little series introducing the real-life hockey players who live rent-free in my head (and, let’s be honest, occasionally wander into my manuscripts).

Hello, lovelies.

You’ve heard me carry on about my hockey boys for long enough that it’s about time I properly introduced you. So I’m starting a little series, one player at a time, and there was never any question about who was going first.

Tom Wilson. Number 43. Washington Capitals. My hockey hero, and he has been since his very first season.

The kid who walked in

The Caps drafted him sixteenth overall in 2012, a big lad from Toronto standing six foot four, and he got his first taste of NHL hockey in three playoff games before he’d even played a regular-season one. Then came the rookie year: all 82 games, three goals, seven assists and 151 penalty minutes.

Those numbers tell you exactly what they wanted him to be. The goon. Fourth-line minutes, drop the gloves with anyone who looked at you sideways, hit everything that moved. And he did what he was asked, because he was so young and so eager and so desperate to belong.

But he was also a kid a long way from home, and that’s the bit that got me. He roomed with Michael Latta, and I can tell you the exact moment I fell. It was the 24/7 special they film every year in the lead-up to the Winter Classic, the year the Caps played the Blackhawks outdoors at Nationals Park on New Year’s Day 2015. In one episode the cameras followed the boys home, and there were Tom and Latta pushing a trolley round the supermarket, then showing off a fridge that was absolutely full of ketchup. Just ketchup, as far as I could tell. They were so young and so earnest, and so competitive about something as silly as the shopping, that I sat there grinning at my screen and thought, oh no. That one. He’s mine now.

Later he roomed with Andre Burakovsky, and if you were around for that era you’ll remember it fondly. The great hulking enforcer on the ice who, off it, turned out to be a big soft thing who’d happily curl up with Harry Potter. Readers, I was done for. If you’ve ever wondered where some of my Pioneers get their marshmallow centres, now you know.

Growing into the A

I won’t pretend he was a saint. There were suspensions, a few of them deserved, and for a stretch his name was a lightning rod for every hockey argument on the internet. Plenty of players never get past that reputation.

Tom did. He kept the edge, because the edge is part of who he is, but he cleaned up the hits that crossed the line and quietly turned himself into a genuine top-line forward the Caps trust in every situation. Have a look at this: as a rookie he racked up 151 penalty minutes and scored three goals. Last season he had 117 penalty minutes and scored thirty. That’s not a goon. That’s a hockey player.

He’s worn the A on his chest for years now, and Connor McDavid (yes, that one) has called him a god on the forecheck. I may have screamed.

Tom by the numbers

  • Drafted: 2012, first round, 16th overall
  • Rookie season (2013–14): 82 games, 3 goals, 7 assists, 151 PIM
  • 2018 Stanley Cup run: 21 games, 5 goals, 10 assists, 15 points
  • 2024–25: career highs of 33 goals and 65 points
  • 2025–26: 30 goals and 32 assists for 62 points in 72 games, his second straight 30-goal season
  • Career (through 2025–26): 907 games, 209 goals, 248 assists, 457 points and 1,649 penalty minutes
  • Contract: signed in Washington through 2030–31

The last of 2018

June 2018. The Caps finally, finally lifted the Cup in Las Vegas, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier about something that happened on the other side of the planet in the middle of my day.

Of the boys who won it that night, only two are still wearing the red: Tom and Ovi. When John Carlson was traded to Anaheim last March, Tom got teary talking about him in front of the cameras, and so did I, sitting on the couch with a can of coke going warm in my hand.

And now Ovi has told the team this season will be his last. Which means that next year, Tom will be the only one left. The last link to the Cup. The kid they tried to make a goon, standing in the room as the one who remembers what it took.

Everyone in Washington seems to think the C is his next. I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I am failing. Captain of the new boys, the ones who’ve never lifted it yet? I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see wear it.

Coming up

Next time I’ll introduce you to a few more of my favourites: Pierre-Luc Dubois, Logan Thompson, and Big Pro and Little Pro, the Protas brothers. Bring snacks.

Until then, go Caps.

Love, Bella x

70 Days Out: The Research Trip Is Officially a Thing

On By Bella BruceIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Right, hockey people, it’s time for an update, because I have officially stopped pretending this trip is theoretical. It is 71 days away. There is a jersey. This is happening.

For anyone new here: I write hockey romance, which means every so often the research has to get a little more hands-on than a stats page and a highlight reel, and this December I am doing exactly that. Call it a research trip. Call it an excuse. I’m calling it both and I’m not sorry.

Here’s the run of it. We fly into Vancouver on November 30th. From there we’re driving up to Edmonton, across to Calgary, and back down to Vancouver, and along the way we’re catching three games — the Capitals against the Oilers in Edmonton, then the Capitals against the Flames in Calgary, then the Capitals against the Canucks back in Vancouver, in that order. Rink to rink, city to city, three very different arenas and hopefully three very good games. We fly home on December 8th.

Logistically, I feel disgustingly prepared. The jersey’s sourced. I’ve actually sorted clothing for the temperature swing between three different Canadian cities in December, which for anyone who knows how I pack is basically a miracle worth documenting. Layers upon layers upon layers, ready to go.

And because apparently I need a wishlist for absolutely everything, here’s the non-hockey one: the Rockies scenery is a given, since we’re driving straight through the middle of it, so that one barely counts. What I actually want is a moose, and I wouldn’t say no to a wolverine or a beaver if one wanted to make an appearance. What I do not want is a bear — that feels like a lot, intensity-wise, and I’m choosing to believe they’re all doing their best Yogi impression and sleeping the whole thing off somewhere I can’t see them. Mostly, though, I’m hoping for a squirrel or two. My spirit animal is a squirrel, which — if you know me, you already know exactly why that tracks.

On the writing side: there are eight books finished and waiting in the wings, but I’m not trying to push all of them out the door at once just to hit a deadline I set for myself. Three feels like the right number to have properly alive in the universe by the time we leave — real, out, findable — and the rest can follow at their own pace rather than mine panicking them into existence. I’m even toying with packing a couple of print copies to hand out at the arenas, if that’s a thing I’m allowed to do. Fingers crossed on that one.

Once we’re actually there, I’m hoping to update here every single day — rink notes, road notes, whatever nonsense happens in the car between Edmonton and Calgary. No promises on how coherent those updates will be after three games in a week, but I’ll do my best.

And look, if I come home with a game puck and an unreasonable amount of maple candy, I will consider this trip an unqualified success on every possible front.

I can also already see an abundance of waffles, maple syrup, poutine, and Nanaimo bars in my future. Not all on the same plate, obviously. I have some standards. Are there other Canadian Delicacies I should seek out? Beaver tails and Butter Tarts maybe?

70 days. Rink to rink. Let’s go.