The Championship...

On June 22nd, my birthday, I took part in the most exciting and emotionally draining event of my life.

It just so happened that my championship was scheduled on the day of my birthday. Now, some of you know I play ice hockey. This year my team went 8-1-1. So right from the outset we qualified for the championship. The other two teams in my league: Atlantic City and Northeast, did not. So they had to play a single elimination playoff round. The better team, Atlantic City, won and was itching to face us in the championship game just ahead.


This was it, my first championship, and I was scared to death.

I stepped out onto the freshly zambonied ice. My emotions siezed, and I was finally able to focus on defense (my position).

The game started like many others earlier in the season. We took the lead 2-0 in the early moments of the first period and continued to dominate Atlantic City until the last second of the first period. Needless to say, we were confident and ready for another period.
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Atlantic City proved to us that they were ready to play hockey. They soon scored and made the game 2-1. Yet, a few minutes later we scored our third and fourth goal. We appeared to be in complete control until a bad bounce lead to a Atlantic City goal. The game remained 4-2 until the end of the second period.
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The third period was just another period, maybe. Atlantic City came out firing, and took the lead 5-4. The time on the clock stood at 1:17. We were completely tired and frustrated. My coach decided to call a timeout. While in the huddle some concerns were aired, some not mentionable here.

The face-off was in our zone. One of my teammates, a center, won the faceoff and dumped the puck out of our zone. One of our other players, a left wing, picked up the puck and skated into the offensive zone. He stopped and picked up his head, searching for an open man. With 53 seconds on the clock the crowd was getting roudy, and the chants for the opposing team were near deafening. But suddenly, they were silenced, and soon were replaced by cheers for our team. We had scored, and had tied the game with fifty three seconds on the clock. The bench was going absolutely berzerk.

The dying seconds ticked off the clock. This only meant one thing, sudden-death.
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In hockey, sudden-death is decided by one mistake. Any faulter can lead to an opposing team win. And now, with the championship on the line, it only made it more dramatic.

We gathered in the huddle one last time, and yelled out our team name, and skated to the faceoff.

Our team won the faceoff and gained possesion of the puck. Our winger skated into the offensive zone and was checked by an opposing force. Luckily, one of our own players was backing him up and regained puck control. He fired a shot on net, and then, chaos commenced...

Both teams were now fighting for the puck. Yet, only one player got control. That player happened to be the work-horse of our team. With his stick, he pulled the puck back and fired the puck into an open seam.
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What started out as a day of anticipation and nervousness, ended as a day of sheer joy.

Happy Birthday, me.