Just another game. 

I’ve played so many hockey games in my life and this was just another one. There was nothing for me to be nervous about after spending so many hours tirelessly practising, training and preparing for this exact moment. 

I am prepared. 

We are prepared. 

That was my approach as I headed to the rink in PyeongChang, South Korea to play in the gold medal game of the 2018 Olympic Winter Games. Once again, it was a Canada vs. U.S. matchup -- one we are all so familiar with. 

As an Olympic rookie, I was prepared to feel some new emotions before the game since this was the biggest stage in my then 19-year career. Would I be nervous? Excited? Overwhelmed?

There may have been a few minutes of nervousness prior to our off-ice warm up, but once we started playing our pre-game Spikeball, the jitters were gone and the excitement and confidence rolled in.

I was anticipating experiencing a moment of “uh oh … this is the gold medal game of the Olympics, don’t mess this up” before going out for warm-ups, but it never happened. It felt like I was warming up for another classic Canada vs. U.S. game, one which I’ve played in many times before. A rival opponent we knew like the back of our hand with a roster we had faced numerous times throughout the previous season. 

We had just beat the Americans in the round robin a week before and had won the overall season series. As a team we were confident, but knew this game wasn’t going to be easy. Canada was playing to win its fifth-straight Olympic gold medal and the U.S. was coming off back-to-back Olympic silver medal finishes with a lot of their veteran players being a part of those losing rosters. They had won four-straight world championships and had beaten us a lot when it mattered in recent years. 

They were confident and playing with a vengeance. But we knew we could win.

I think of two words when I look back at the first period of this game: penalty trouble.

Playing physical was part of our identity. Being hard on our opponent in the corners, on the forecheck, and especially in our own defensive zone was something we felt was important against this team to force turnovers. Playing with this mindset has its risks and we learned throughout the season to never know what to expect in terms of refereeing until halfway through the first period. 

We are down 1-0 at the intermission after spending six of 20 minutes shorthanded with the Americans scoring on their third power-play opportunity. 

This was the first time we had been down a goal at the Olympics. We knew there was no need to be nervous with 40 minutes left to play and plenty of time to score a few goals. We’d been down heading into the second period many times before, so even though it may have been the first time we were losing at the Olympics, it wasn’t anything new. Plus, being resilient is part of who we were as a team. Learning, getting stronger, and growing from setbacks is something we all take great pride in. Hell, I would even go as far as saying resiliency and facing setbacks with determination and fearlessness is what got me a spot on that roster.

Was a girl from Stellarton, N.S., who had been cut from the under-18 national team and not invited to another camp for five years supposed to be on the Olympic Team? 

No. 

But there I was, drenched in sweat, sitting next to some of my idols, ready to hit the ice again for the chance to win gold. Was I scared about being down a goal? Not a chance.

I got the puck with some speed coming through the neutral zone just two minutes into the second period. I could see a teammate in my peripherals on the rush with me. I could also see the defenseman that I was attacking on the rush was flat footed. 

Perfect. 

I chip the puck softly off the boards and cut to the inside, pick the puck back up, and beat the defenceman. I see Haley Irwin crashing the net and the next move was to get it to her. I skate in towards the dot and fire a shot on net. Haley gets her stick on it and redirects it in. 

Just like that we have ourselves a tie game. The momentum is ours. 

The next shift, we get another penalty called against us. The momentum shifts again. 

We killed it off and score shortly after to take a 2-1 lead, which is how the second period ended.

It’s now over halfway through the third and we’re still winning. I can remember looking at the clock and thinking to myself, “only eight minutes left, we just have to keep them off the scoreboard for eight more minutes and the game is ours.”

And just like that, the U.S. ties it up 2-2 with just over six minutes remaining.

We passed another big test of killing off a penalty with four minutes left. Overtime was next.

I don’t remember much of the OT other than watching both teams exchange chances. Twenty minutes goes by, no one scores, and we have to go into a shootout to decide the winner of the Olympic gold medal game. This still doesn’t seem right to me and it’s safe to say I will never like shootouts. Enough said.

Tears roll down our faces along with the feeling of anger, sadness and disappointment as we watch the Americans receive their gold medals. All I can think about is how badly I never want this to happen again. Even writing this two years later, it still hurts.

As ridiculous as this sounds, it wasn’t until a few months after the Olympics that I started to feel proud about having an Olympic silver medal. Seeing the roughly 4,500 people in Stellarton and how grateful they are for everything they have made me realize how special it was to play in the Olympics. Life at home is about the simple things like spending time with family and friends, being there to lend a hand to your neighbour whenever they need one and making sure that the girl who played hockey in the Olympics could feel supported from across the world.

I felt that same support when I was 15 years old and had just lost my mom. What saved me from going off the deep end was sport, but I also had amazing support from strong and loving family and friends. Being able to spend time doing extracurricular activities was when I was able to focus on something other than the grief and anger I felt about my mom.

It’s that kind of support that poured out of communities across Nova Scotia in April when 22 innocent people were killed in a tragic mass shooting. 

I felt it was important to give back.

I started a fundraiser to directly help children who were impacted by the loss of a parent during the shooting with hopes of covering costs of their extracurricular activities of choice. With the help of a teammate’s aunt, we designed a sticker that can be worn on hockey helmets and advertised the fundraiser on my social media channels. The fundraiser was kept open for a week and, once again, the support of so many people shined through as over $18,000.00 was raised.

The silver lining in all of this is Team Canada will have an opportunity to win a world championship in Halifax on April 18, 2021. The date has been marked in my calendar since I found out this year’s tournament was cancelled due to COVID-19. The date will also mark one year since the most heinous thing to ever happen in the province. 

This team will have the power to bring the province together, to replace some of the sombreness with joy, and to honour those lives tragically impacted by the shooting. 

I will do everything in my power to be on this roster and help my country win. Not for my own selfish reasons, but because I know the way hockey can bring people together. I know the upcoming worlds will help Nova Scotia glue its broken heart back together while showing off the pride and joy it has.

I’ve felt so much heartwarming support from everyone across my home province that I feel it’s my duty to help people come together and show the world how special of a place Nova Scotia truly is.  

Forever a proud Nova Scotian,

Blayre Turnbull