In the hushed ambiance of the Ottawa locker room, whispers fluttered about like the quiet before a coming storm. What had conspired in the days before had turned young Ridly Greig, age 21, into the eye of an unforeseen tempest. His stick, or should we say, his wand of destiny, had authored a moment that had ricocheted through the annals of hockey folklore.
It was on a Saturday night that the slapshot saga unfolded; an empty net became the canvas upon which Ridly painted his masterpiece. This audacious act had ignited the ire of one Morgan Rielly of the Toronto Maple Leafs, whose violent high-stick response cost him a quintet of games, courtesy of the NHL’s stern Department of Player Safety.
The aftermath for Greig was a swirling vortex of disbelief and newfound fame. Crowds of reporters, like steel to magnet, gravitated to his stall to pluck thoughts from his mind. His response to the whirlwind echoed as softly as his presence, “Definitely pretty different, a lot of buddies, a lot of texts, a lot of phone calls,” he mused. “It’s been interesting.”
We had caught him fresh off a victorious skirmish against the Columbus Blue Jackets. The Senators, scant on defensemen, nonetheless clinched the win with a 6-3 scoreboard, albeit not their most polished performance. Amid the fracas, Greig found the back of the net and stood his ground after a controversial hit—a roughing penalty as his claim.
Inquiry, in due time, pivoted to that now infamous goal. Greig, a model of digital restraint, revealed his tactic to avoid the tumult online. Not one for the polemics, he brushed it off, “Everybody is going to have an opinion on it, probably they’re going to love it or hate it, doesn’t matter to me – whatever.”
But as fortune would have it, Ridly Grieg’s name now danced on the tongues of 15,203 spectators, who saluted his glorious goal on the scoreboard, and roared in approval at his every touch of the puck during the game. A redirected shot from the stick of Vladimir Tarasenko had sent the puck sailing to the net’s apex, marking Greig’s ninth tally of the season.
Instantly, Greig’s name was etched into the heart of Ottawa lore. For there, among Senators fans, to celebrate a wound upon the Maple Leafs is akin to heroism. The match against Columbus unfolded with the norm, support washing over the ranks, especially towards Greig, now an icon clad in controversy.
As for the punishment delivered to Rielly, Greig demurred, his surprise at the high-stick as evident as his understated tone. “I don’t think you’re ever expecting a guy to cross-check you in the face – also, I’m not sure he meant to do that,” he allowed. The motive behind his infamous shot? Pure, unfiltered adrenaline—a moment’s impulse in a high-stakes game.
The media siege was brisk, a fleeting few minutes where Greig’s reticent nature was on full display, his answers concise—eleventh-word legends in their own right. Trite as it may seem, actions rang louder than words for this enigmatic player, his on-ice ballet speaking more than his sparse dialogue ever could.
Thomas Chabot, teammate and confidant, painted a picture of Greig—a man of enigmas, text messages that linger in silence, a presence beloved in the locker room for his quiet demeanor and compelling play.
Fortune’s veil has lifted from Ridly Greig, whose stealth has evaporated under the glare of sudden fame. Perchance, to Maple Leafs fans, he is a mere irritant today. But the horizon whispers promises of postseason clashes to come—Greig, a persistent thorn in the storied blue-and-white rivalry.
Despite the hubbub, it was Captain Brady Tkachuk, with a freshly minted hat trick in the wake of Rielly’s suspension, who called upon visions of greater battles ahead. A hint, perhaps, of destiny awaiting this team and its newfound hero.
