How frozen reps led to perfect finish: The training behind Jeff Trainor’s game-changing two-pointer
By Sarah Griffin | Feb 28, 2025
In the dead of winter, with snow piling up along the edges of River Street in Billerica, Mass., Jeff Trainor was alone, putting in work.
There was no crowd, no game on the line – just him, a stick and a quiet obsession with perfecting his shot. The cold air bit at his hands as he cycled through the motions, each rep meticulously calculated. His hands in the right place, stick angle locked in, footwork set, and snap. The ball fired off his stick, destined for the back of the net.
Fast forward a week later, Trainor was on the field in the semifinals of the 2025 Lexus Championship Series, his first game of the tournament after an injury prevented him from participating in round-robin play. The Boston Cannons were taking on a potent New York Atlas team and trailed the Bulls for almost the entirety of the game.
But in the heat of the moment, there was no time to think about all that. Down three with less than 30 seconds left in regulation, Boston was fighting to keep its title defense alive. When the ball swung Trainor’s way, his instincts took over. No mental checklist. No second-guessing. Just muscle memory forged in an empty, snow-covered field.
Trainor explained his thought process in the moment – or lack thereof.
“I just needed to shoot this,” he explained. “Everything worked out – the pass was great, my footwork was there. I didn’t even realize how far I was from the cage. We didn’t have time to waste, so I just pulled it back as short as I could and shot it as hard as I could.”
The ball ripped past Liam Entenmann and into the net. The Cannons, once staring down elimination, were suddenly right back in it thanks to Trainor’s bullet of a two-pointer from the middle of the field. It was a moment of chaos and desperation, turned into an opportunity, one that never happens without the countless hours spent in the quiet, unseen grind.
But even as the scoreboard flashed 22-21, Trainor and the Cannons knew the job wasn’t finished. The momentum had shifted, but they still needed one more stop, one more push and one more moment to capitalize to send the game to overtime.
“In any other lacrosse atmosphere, you’re down three with 30 seconds left, you’re thinking, ‘I don’t know if we’re going to win this thing,’” Trainor said. “But with the short field, guys trying to sub on and off, you’re never out of the fight.”
And the Cannons weren’t. Seconds later, New York’s Bryan Costabile tucked in a goal with nine seconds remaining to make it 23-21. Unfortunately for Costabile and the Atlas, the goal did more harm than good. His goal allowed the Cannons to flip the field and make one last push in transition, and Alex Vardaro found himself with a golden opportunity. His two-pointer tied the game with two seconds remaining.
In the huddle after regulation, the energy was controlled but electric. Veteran attackman Marcus Holman, sidelined for the game, made his voice heard. The message? Stay the course.
“‘Nothing’s expected more than your best,’” Trainor recalled of Holman’s pep talk. “That’s what we preach with the Cannons – play until they tell us the game is over, then look up and see if we won.”
The Cannons, already riding a wave of belief, embraced the moment. When the final whistle blew after the four-minute overtime period, they had done what seemed impossible just moments earlier.
The Cannons carried that momentum straight into the championship game against the Utah Archers, where they capped off their Champ Series title defense with a dominant performance, claiming their throne once again with a 21-14 victory. The win cemented the Cannons’ place as the PLL's premier Sixes squad and reinforced the culture of resilience that had carried them till the very end.
Trainor’s shot was the turning point, but its roots stretched back far beyond that semifinal game. It went all the way back to the frozen ground of River Street, where every tiny detail mattered. Where precision was built in isolation. Where a simple practice rep in the snow transformed into a defining moment under the lights. Because when the pressure was at its peak and there was no time to think, all that was left was what had already been done. And Trainor had done the work.
