Fresh Ice

By , Littleton, CO
The sound of my skates carving through the fresh ice sends echoes along the whole rink. As I start to skate I feel the rush of the wind on my face and the familiar chill from the ice. All the memories start flooding back, championship games, losing seasons; I’ve experienced it all through the unbelievable journey known as hockey.
My memory skips and I start hearing the roar of the crowd, a certain electricity is tingling in the air. A pulsing is felt throughout the rink with each chant uttered by the fans. The game; Littleton; our hated rivals; at our home ice. The time on the clock winds down as the score board shows a score of one to one. The flash of the friendly grey and black jerseys are seen skating by. Of course, followed by the despised colors of red and black. I hop over the boards to begin my shift; I quickly tire from the constant skating back and forth. I glance at the bench, a flash of blue and white catches my attention as I dart in front of the swinging stick. A loud crack fills the air; it’s followed by a sharp pain on my shin. A quick look down confirms the feeling of a shimmering puck lying on the blade of my stick. Before I know it my feet are moving down the ice to the opposing goal. One defensive man to get by. I bolt left while floating the puck around to the right. I swing by to pick up the puck so quick the defense didn’t even know what hit him. There’s a clear lane to the net. My momentum brings me closer and closer. A six by six open spot of white twine snatches my attention. I know I can score now. I bolt left then fake right and fire the puck right over the goalies shoulder. The crowd goes silent. We all stare in anticipation as if the play were in half speed. The silence is pierced by a loud ping. I hit the crossbar. My chance to win the game, down in one shot. Silence, is everywhere as I slowly glide to the bench, not once looking at a teammate. We tied the game. Nothing special, just a tie.

To me, hockey’s not just a game, it’s a lifestyle. I’ve made plenty of sacrifices to play hockey. From waking up at four in the morning to practice before school, and being late most of the time, to staying up until midnight with a game on my Friday night. No other sport gives the opportunities hockey does. I’ve sacrificed friends, other sports, and to some extent school work to participate in the incredible game known as hockey. The best feeling from hockey isn’t just from winning; it’s knowing you’ve put everything out on that ice, then giving even more.

Just then do I comeback to realize practice is already starting. I skate over to the mass of players on one knee. I take my spot and then I believe I’m part of something more than a sport, I’m part of a family.





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