“My hockey team made it to the finals, so I’m going to chill and not practice my backhand shot as a reward to myself. Does that sound like a plan, Nick?”
“Wruf, wruf!” barked Nick.
“Johnathan, time for dinner!” Mom called.
“Okay, I’m coming.”
As I descended the stairs, I wondered if Mom was going to force me to practice my backhand.
Once I reached the bottom, I was struck by a mouth-watering aroma, so I asked, “What’s for dinner?”
“Rice and chicken,” replied Mom.
I sat down and started eating.
“What were you doing upstairs?” she asked.
“Chatting with Nick,” I responded.
“About what?” she quizzed.
“Well, um...I just thought that um...as a reward for making it to the finals with my team um...I would skip practicing my backhand shot...heh heh.”
“That is definitely not the attitude I would have if I were you. But, you make your own decisions and face the consequences.”
Later that night, I started to wonder if I should’ve practiced after all. My chest felt heavy with guilt as I slowly fell asleep.
In the morning, I tried to forget about what had happened the previous evening and started to pump myself up for the big game.
“Ready, Johnathan?” my dad asked with a wide grin.
“Yup,” I replied half energetically.
We loaded the car, turned on some tunes, and headed to the arena.
As soon as everyone had piled into the crammed and smelly dressing room, coach T.J. gave a pregame pep talk and then asked who had practiced last night. Everyone raised their hands except for me.
“Next time, Johnathan, you have no excuses. You must practice,” coach T.J. advised sternly.
“Okay,” I responded in a soft voice.
He gave me a stern look, and then said, “Alright team, go out there and give it everything you’ve got!”
Every second of the game was heart-pounding. The goals went back and forth.The puck was flying in all directions. Fans were on the edges of their seats. Late in the third period, we were down four to three. There was a dog-pile of seven people fighting for the puck in front of the opposing team’s net. Suddenly, the puck popped loose and came right to me. There were very few seconds left. It was now or never. I stick-handled a bit closer to the net, aimed for the top-right corner, and then I realized that someone was right beside me. I quickly maneuvered the puck to my backhand, tried to aim anywhere at the net, shot the puck as hard as I could, and... missed.
“BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!” The buzzer went off.
GREAT. WE LOST. YIPEEE.
The way the other team pumped their fists in celebration made my blood boil like lava, but I held myself back. The worst thing I could’ve done right then and there was throw my stick and gloves on the ice and risk getting myself suspended for the next game.
I slowly dragged my skates back to the bench, shoulders slumped and head down.
In the dressing room, coach T.J. made a few remarks. “Alright team, that was a tough game. One thing I have to say though, is, the opposing team may have gotten a few lucky bounces, but I think they were a tad bit hungrier for a win than we were.” Then, he swivelled to me. “Jonathan, I think that at the end there, you cost us the game. What will you do differently tonight?” he quizzed.
“I’ll practice,” I nodded in agreement.
At that moment, Mom’s words echoed in my head, “...you make your own decisions and face the consequences.” My team had lost, and it was my fault.
“Overall, team, you worked very hard. Just shake off the loss and come back tomorrow, hungrier than ever.”
On the ride home, Dad asked me if I thought I had played a good game. I paused before replying, “I definitely need to practice my backhand for tomorrow. I can’t have this happen again.”
That evening, I went straight to the basement and took 150 backhand shots at the net. By the time I was done, the wall was polka-dotted with black puck marks.
I brushed, gargled, and hopped into my welcoming bed feeling as though I had fulfilled my duties.
I woke up feeling refreshed and felt a ray of hope as I started pumping myself up for the big game. With a win, we would play one more game in the series, but with a loss, that would be the end and the other team would win the championship.
I had a quick breakfast, and then my dad and I were off to the arena.
Coach T.J. gave his signature pregame talk and then asked, once again, who had come in prepared. This time, everyone raised their hands, including me. “Great job, everyone! Now go out there, skate hard, and let’s win!”
To my surprise, the opposing team didn’t seem to be trying as hard as last time, so we sailed through and won the game six to three. The final and deciding game would take place the following day.
Later that afternoon, my friend Bobby called. “Hey, Johnathan, wanna come over and play Xbox at my place?”
“Sorry Bobby, but the most important game of my hockey season is tomorrow, and I must practice.”
“That’s alright. We can just play another time. Good luck!”
“Thanks, man.”
*****
In the dressing room the following morning, coach T.J. gave his final speech of the season. “Alright team, this is it. The most important game of our season. If we win, awesome. If we lose, great. As long as you have all learned one new thing and enjoyed every moment of this season, it is officially a successful one.” He waited a moment for it to sink in, and then roared, “Alright team, let’s get fired up!”
“On three, one, two, three, T.J.’s Tigers!!!” we all cheered in unison.
*****
“FFFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRRR!!!” The referee blew the opening whistle. Right from the first faceoff, we were neck and neck. “CRRRRRRKKKKKK! WOOOSSSSSHHHH! SSSSSSKKKKKKKKKSSSSSSSHHHHHH! BANG!
The opposing team had shot the puck right at our goalie’s mask, but luckily, he covered it up.
“FFFFFLLLLLLLLLRRRRRRR!” “CCCRRRRKKKK!SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” Yes! Two on one!
“Johnny! Pass!!”
“POW! PIINNNNNNNNNG!!!”
“OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!” the audience yelled.
I hit the post!!!
By the end of the first period, the game was scoreless.
“FFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRRRR!!!” The second period commenced.
“SSSKKKKKKKKKKSSSSSSSHHHHH! CLANG! OH NO!! The opposing team had a two on one, and I was the only one back to help.
“WOOSH!!!” “CKCKCKCK!”
“YYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” half of the audience cried.
I intercepted the puck, and then I was flying down the ice with a burst of speed.
A two on two. This was going to be fun.
“Johnathan! Over here!” Trevor shouted.
“KKKKKKKKSSSSSSHHHHH!” I passed the puck.
“CLIKCLOKCLIKCLOKCLIKCLOK!” Trevor stick-handled past a defender.
“POOOOWWWW!!!” “THUD!”
“OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!”
The goalie barely deflected the puck!!!
We could’ve been leading, but yet again, the period ended with a scoreless game.
“FFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRR!!” The third period bursted into action.
Both teams were becoming very defensive, shutting down the offense until the very end of the period. The play was deep in our zone and chaos surrounded us.
“Chris!! Stay in front of the net!!!” “Trevor!! Cover the pointman!!!”
Then, I realized that Johnny has the puck. He showed me our secret signal, and I blasted out of our zone. He gave me a hard pass, and then I was out in the open on a breakaway like a plane flying through a cloudless sky. I didn’t blink and went with my signature move. “Backhand...forehand, backhand, forehand, shot!
“PIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!!” Off the crossbar!!!!!!
“BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!”
Overtime. This was getting interesting. First team to score wins. Except, no one scored.
On to the real decider. Shootout.
The opposing team shot first.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” “CLIKCLOKCLIK!” “POOWWW!!!!” “BANG!!!”
Missed.
Next up, from our team, Trevor.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” WOOOSSSSSSSSSSHHHHH!!” “POOOOOWWWWW!!!!” “THUD!!”
Saved by a goalie dive.
Opposing team’s turn again.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” “CLIKCLOKCLIKCLOK!” “POOWWWWW!!!!” “THUD!!!!”
Nice, into our goalie’s glove.
Next up for us, Johnny.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” “CLICKITYCLOK!” “CRACK!!!!” Nice snap shot. PIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!!”
HOW MANY POSTS DO WE HAVE TO HIT IN A GAME???!!!
The opposing team was up.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” “CLIKCLOKCLIKCLOKCLIK!” “WOOOOOSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!” “POOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!” “PIIIIINNNNNGGG!!!”
Wow. That was close.
Next up, me. Wait. ME?
I skated onto the ice, nervous and excited.
I gingerly took the puck from center ice, and skated full speed ahead.
“SKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSHSKSH!” “Backhand, forehand, backhand, forehand, backhand, POOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!” “PIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!!!!!” “TTHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!”
Off the crossbar, over the goalie’s head, and into the top right corner.
GOALLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“YYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
In less than a second, my teammates closed in and hurled themselves on top of me, yelling at the top of their lungs, “WE WON!!! WE WON!!!”
We pulled ourselves together, just long enough to respectfully shake hands with the opposing team. “And now,” a man with a deep voice bellowed over the loudspeaker, “the Mini Stanley Cup!!!”
“Yaaaa! Woohoo! Awesome!” everyone cheered.
“Hey dude,” I gushed to Trevor, “can you believe we actually won the Stanley Cup?!! Well, I mean a miniature version, obviously…”
The camera flashes flickered around us.
About half an hour after the trophy presentation, we settled into the dressing room. I peeled off my gear, shook hands and thanked coach T.J.for a fantastic year, fist-bumped all of my teammates, and then I was off.
I ran straight to my parents and they wrapped their arms around me. And ever so softly, but ever so clearly, they whispered in my ear, “You did it, Johnathan, you did it…”