The Profound Cylander

October 10, 2017
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Gliding down the ice, tiny chips of ice and snow flying up as the round black hockey puck glides and crashes into the hard, white plastic boards. Where will the puck end up next, in the back of the the glowing frost white net, with the glimmering red painted posts, or shall it stay in play, on the frigid ice at 32 degrees fahrenheit? Nobody knows where that saucer looking object will go, the game, utterly unpredictable. The hard fought, hard working players that use that cylinder are even more unpredictable than life itself, skating the smooth ice with their high dollar sticks clubbing it around. As the players skate, the fans go bananas as the game, which is as fast as lightning flashes before their eyes. The fans themselves, screaming at the top of their lungs, rooting on their team as if their life depended on it.   The people that praise this wonderful game all bundled up in their clothes, layering the jackets, sweaters and coats on each other, to cheer like this game will be their last. 

 

Sacrifice, what you would do for a single sport, for an object? A hockey puck, a rock hard, round cylinder one inch tall, and a three inch diameter. With the jet black finish on the top and bottom, and “Made in Canada” engraved in the grid like pattern on the side hugging around the figure. As many coaches, each one of them carry around their special bag of pucks, some chipped, and worn down whereas the edges are rounded off to not be able to stand upright, and some to be as crisp, and have corners of those of countertops. As though we can talk about these wonderful objects that make the game, the thing that is second most important is the object used to put them in the back of the net. The hockey stick is unique to anyone that uses it, how they tape it, what flex they have, the curve of the blade, and the height they cut it to. The composite fiberglass hockey sticks, finished in shiny gloss, with white cloth hockey tape wrapped around the blade in precise order, slapping the figure around, a silly game of hockey.


The hockey puck, can make or break someone...literally. The hockey puck, the three ounce, three inch diameter and one inch height can do a lot for a little object. The ufo looking cylinder can break bones, and make someone a healthy living for the rest of their life. The little object that’s sought out to be one of the best objects in sports in my opinion, is not a ball, you don’t run with it, you can’t really kick it, and the best yet, you can't deflate it. The hockey puck, manufactured by humans, for humans, and for the fastest game on ice.


The ice, cold bitter air as thin as if on the North Pole. The arena, echoing with every word, every letter that you project out of your mouth, as the bitter air enters, making your nerves sensitive in your mouth. As you keep walking, chills moving up and down your spine as you shiver your way through the group of people. The tall plexiglass and the net above it, reaching from the top of the payne all the way to the ceiling, where it's hooked on the rafters that run perpendicular to the board of the benches that hold the home and away teams. Behind those benches, in big bold, black block letter the words home and away are printed on the signs that are hung. The metal bleachers, filled with fans are divided in five sections, twelve rows, and fifteen seats a section on the side opposite of those of the benches.


A young kid, a teenager with a large ego, and long brown slicked back hair covered in a Nike baseball cap. As he walks into the rink, turning heads while wearing his favorite black hoodie, khaki pants, and Sperry’s. He is identified as the next big thing, all the awards he had been given runs through his mind, causing the confident smirk on his face. He walks with a swagger, some pep in bis tep shows the confidence he has, and the attitude that no matter what he runs into, he will overcome the odds, and the situation. As he makes his way through the lobby and to the locker room, everyone knows that he is a hockey player.


The hockey puck is what makes me, me. I have been playing hockey my whole life, it has shaped me into the person I am today, and has taught me many valuable lessons. I have sacrificed many things, parties, going out with friends, and most important sleep, but it has all been worth it. Throughout hockey I have made countless friendships, and have learned that through any situation, as long as you have your team’s back and they have yours, you're alright. Hockey has given me many opportunities and lessons learned that I will never lose, or take for granted.






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