Toronto, Canada

Eastern Conference, Royal York Hotel

I'm rooming with my fellow non-American (and Canadian) buddy, Kaapo Kakko for this part of the adventure. I'm not sure how far we'll (the New York Rangers) go, given we barely squeaked into the playoffs to begin with. But, nevertheless, I am really excited and ready to go for this "phrase 4" with the NHL!

We're sharing our hotel with the Carolina Hurricanes, New York Islanders, Toronto Maple Leafs, Columbus Blue Jackets, Florida Panthers and Montreal Canadiens. They've all welcomed us with open arms -- well mostly everyone, that is. There's a few players from each team that I listed that is very stand-offish toward us being there.

I remember walking into the lobby of our bubble's hotel, the Royal York in Downtown Toronto. I was walking with Christopher "Chris" Krieder, one of our team's "daddies" (leader/person in charge of watching the "kids", the other is Mika Zibanejad) and my best friend, Kaapo Kakko.

We got into the lobby, taking in the massive formal exterior. (Only the best for the NHL playoffs, I guess.) As we're enjoying the moment, Vincent Trocheck, Cal Clutterbuck, Anders Lee, Auston Matthews, Mitch Marner, Max Domi and Jonathan Drouin pass by us on roller skates. Domi and Clutterbuck shove me and Kakko to the ground, laughing maniacally.

The next thing I see is Kreids [Chris Kreider] going after them. He pulled Mitch Marner into a headlock and snarled, "You shove either of them again and you'll be asking for much more than a war on the ice."

"You guys barely made it," Auston snarls, shoving Kreider, who grapples to maintain a hold on Mitch.

"Yeah, and the Leafs get bumped after the first round all the time," I hear Tony [Anthony DeAngelo] snapping back as he comes to help Kreids out.

Before I know it, there is a huge shoving match that breaks out. Each Ranger player that is inside is sparing off with one of the players of the posse. Some are throwing punches, some are shoving and some are verbally going at one another.

Kakko and I get up to our feet to help out, when, all of a sudden, Drouin decides to flop to a Brett Howden shove.

"OW! HE HURT ME!" Drouin wails.

"That was pathetic Drouin," Brett grumbles to himself, shaking his head. "I barely touched you!"

Staff comes rushing into the lobby now from every direction: the elevators, behind us, the sides of the lobby, behind plants...you name it. They begin shouting and that's when everyone breaks apart.

I can see that Vitaliy Kravtsov, the newest rookie, who made the team, is bleeding from a bad cut on his lip, while Mitch has a busted nose.

Silence falls as we realize the trouble we'll all be in. (Except that the Rangers didn't start it.) A few general managers and coaches for the other teams walk forward with David Quinn at their side.

One of them, a gray-haired balding man snaps, "All of you to your rooms! This is supposed to be a peaceful place! Teams are supposed to GET ALONG. If you can't, you will be forcibly removed from playing in the playoffs. And I don't care if that's six Rangers or four Habs or what."

"Oh, we were just play fighting," Artemi Panarin attempts to suggest with a shrug. "But SOME people can't handle PLAYING around." He shoots a dirty glare in the direction of Max Domi, who is dusting himself off. "Picking on rookies, cause you can't handle someone your own size. Just like on the ice."

The balding man glares at him and retorts with, "Panarin, I don't care. The fact of the matter is that we all need to learn to get along and put on-ice shit away. I don't care if Cal Clutterbuck illegally checked Adam Fox into the boards and temporarily wounded him, in this hotel that's put aside and we get along. Mingle, maybe make some new friends. Something, anything."

"Yeah, get along, boys," Vincent Trocheck mocks and catcalls as he spins around and launches for the elevators on the other side of the lobby.

"TROCHECK!" the general manager snarls after him. "I mean it! I WILL get you benched if you don't cut the attitude!"

"We're very sorry about the disturbance, sir," Shesty [Igor Shestorkin] remarks in a thick accent as he looks down at his feet. "Did not mean to take things far."

Mika Zibanejad pats him on the back and whispers to him.

Drouin, Mitch, Auston, Clutterbuck, Domi and Anders all share a look and then skate off after Trocheck, sending all of us Rangers dirty, disgusted looks. I know things are not over yet between everyone.

Kreids and Mika then gesture for everyone to follow them to the elevators and up to our floor. The fourth floor.

Thankfully, the bad eggs are gone by the time we reach the elevators. I glance to my side and notice that Kakko is rubbing his arm and nervously looking around.

I put a hand on his shoulder and look at him with all the calmness I can muster inside of me. "Hey, it'll be okay. They can't bother us on our floor. It's our save zoom, guarded by the entire team."

We break off into smaller groups and enter about three of the elevators on one side. I am joined by Kakko, of course, Brett, Kreids, Mika and Artemi. We make it up to the fourth floor, finding that it is all decked out in a home-y Rangers welcome.

There are Rangers logos and pictures on all of the room doors and on our level. We begin to break up, heading for our rooms. I can see Shesty pair up with Geo [Alexander Georgiev] and enter one of the rooms. Hank [Henrik Lundqvist] takes a room by himself. (Of course, he's our veteran star goalie, he should have a room to himself!) Artemi finds Viltaliy and they enter another room together, along with Buch [Pavel Buchnevich].

Soon it is just Kakko, Kreids, Mika and I remaining in the hallway by the elevators. The two older players turn to us.

"We'll be right next door to you both, should you need anything," Kreids says.

"Just shout," Mika tacks on, patting Kakko's shoulder.

Kakko nods and hugs Mika like he is a father or older brother to him. "This is going to be fun!"

"Yes, it will be! That's the spirit!" Mika says with a chuckle.

I look at them both and open my mouth to say something to them, when an ear-splitting scream echoes down to us.

We all rush over to the railing and peer up at the floor above us.

"BRINDY!" someone yells out in a somewhat faint European-based accent.

We all move our heads in unison to look down into the lobby, where an ugly-looking, egg-shaped-headed older forty-year-old man rushes into the center of the room and looks up in our direction. I recognize him as one of those that had scolded us just moments earlier. It is Rod Brind'Amour, the head coach for the Carolina Hurricanes.

"What's wrong, Sebby? Is it one of those four Rangers picking on you?" he calls up and then shoots the four of us a glare.

"I'll have you know--" Mika begins to shout out, climbing up the railing to lean over.

Kreids grabs him and pulls him back. "Ziby, stop."

"No," the voice above us cries out, a tint of nervousness and fright to it now. "Someone hacked our social account and is posting...well...horrible stuff."

"Dammit!" Rod Brind'Amour cusses and spins around to look around the lobby he is in and then up at all the levels above him as best as he can to see if he can see anything out of the ordinary.

I peer out and upward once more, spotting a young-looking man leaning his shoulders and face over the railing. I can see he has rather long light chocolate brown hair that is smoothed down. He glances downward, briefly and his bright amber eyes lock with my own. They remain on mine long enough for me to be able to see the fear burning in his pupils. Somehow I feel sympathy for this poor man.

I know who he is too. He's usually the giggling, happy go-lucky star player for the Carolina Hurricanes, Sebastian Aho. (The Finnish one!)

But his eyes snap away from mine and back to his coach's as he shouts out, "It's making Svech very uneasy and Nech just balled his eyes out over the content. And you don't wanna know what Dougie's doing!"

"Hey, Aho, shut the fuck up will you! No one cares what issues Carolina is having!" the gruff voice of Auston Matthews comes from below me.

I hear Sebastian gasp, sniffle and softly cry as I watch him back out of sight behind the railing above. I turn and look down into the lobby to see that the Hurricanes' coach is gone as well.

I push myself back and notice that Kreids and Mika are making their way into their room and Kakko is looking down at his shoes. Part of me wants to venture up and help the poor guy out, comfort him, but part of me also knows the dangers of a New York Ranger crossing into Carolina Hurricane territory.