Antagonym

Chapter 11

The ice sent a chill down my spine like the comforting touch of a hand. Some might call that crazy, but I enveloped the cold under the heat of my heavy pads. It was relief to the almost fifty pounds of gear on my body. The crowd was roaring in the background but I was blocking it out, focusing on the puck dancing across the ice, black and white colored sticks grabbing at the disk alternately, all searching for their chance.

Hockey was like an escape from reality for me. Some people might get worked up from the crowd; the eyes and the cameras all on them. I wasn't one of those people. Sure, I got nerves and I tried to preserve my pride, but all I had to do was remind myself that if sitting at home who was embarrassed for me because of a bad play was good enough to be in my position, they would be. Instead, the ice was something consumed my analytical and mathematical brain, constantly watching the puck and figuring out how to stop it at any given point. It was like a brain game; a riddle that I had to win.

I could hear the clock ticking in my head, like it was actually a physical thing everyone else could sense. I knew exactly how much time was left. 0:11 seconds to overtime with a 2-2 score. It would be a shootout any second. The three players taking the shot might call that stressful, but if anything it was much worse from the goalie and that was a fact. Shooters have two back ups. I had just myself.

And I knew when Axel lost the puck that this just became a four shot shoot out for me. I watched the crimson and gold jersey of the lead defender on Boston's team get in front of Axel, Sebastian leaving his mark to play defense on the Boston player in possession, leaving Axel to fall back on Seb's old mark. I saw the red stick lift from the ice just as Seb's black stick slid into the corner of my view but it was too late.

The slap shot was already in the air rocketing towards me in slow motion. I moved my chest to the left and stuck my skate in the ice at the edge of the goal, locking my right knee down on the ice as my left bent like a lunge. I felt the hard impact of the puck momentarily knock the air out of my lungs, the dull yet intense sting threading under my skin like a tickle. I heard the loud buzzer echo through the stadium with cheers from our home crowd.

Axel skated over to me, stopping sharply while Seb and Beck talked to the ref with the other team' captain and assistant captain. I got up from my knee and nodded at the left winger. "You got this, Danny. Best goalie in the league," he reminded me while slapping my shoulder encouragingly.

"You too, Ax. Just remember; top right is his weakest. Get a nice wrist flick up there." Axel nodded back at me before turning and skating to the center of the ice for his shot. The others had cleared out to the side as Axel took the puck from the center and went right on the ice before swerving left and faking another swerve right, taking the cross shot in the top right, the side where the goalie didn't have his glove, only his pad.

Cheers filled the air at the made goal while the crimson shirt of the right wing defender for Boston took the ice. He snatched the puck up as I left the crease, mimicking the movements of his stick as he got closer. I watched the white stick pull back to take the shot left as I backed myself into the left hand side of the net. Just as he faked a shot right, snatching the puck a millisecond after he hit it, I was already snapping my knee down on the right. My body skidded slightly as I tried to extend my stick to the left, but the puck soared in just above the head.

I had to admit, that was a damn good goal. I couldn't even argue with that. It was a huge risk actually hitting the puck, but Votnavich's timing was so perfect that he didn't hit it full force. That move probably took him years of practice, and he just broke it out because I was the perfect target; someone with fast reflexes that weren't always a blessing.

I was still laying on the ground when his skates stopped in the blue crease as I started to get on my knees. It actually surprised me a little bit when the gloves hand of the Boston senior grabbed my right arm and helped pull me up. Goalies never had fun standing after a fall like that. I couldn't help but smile at his sportsmanship. "Thanks, Luka."