He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remaining change. He had two quarters and a nickel--just enough to play out the final point, for the table had turned off as the pucked sailed into his goal tying the game. "Six-all," the referee said. The words echoed in his head. He could hear his heart beating and feel a pounding in his head as the blood flowed to his brain releasing his thoughts. There was wind. "The table must have been turned on," he thought to himself. Yet this wind was strong and cool and in a way, calming. "Both players ready?" the ref asked. He was was really questioning this player for his opponent had already positioned himself in his defensive stance and was bouncing up and down on his back leg. This guy was experienced. "No, I'm not ready," he wanted to say, but foolish pride took over and the thousands of fans that filled the stadium were getting impatient. He looked up and saw himself on the big movie-size screen that was designed for the fans to be able to see the action of the game in slow-motion replay. It was time.
He pulled out the puck from his goal--the white tape on it bloodied from one of his cut fingers that was the result of hours of play. The finger nail had been torn off. He set the puck on the table watching as it glided like a figure-skater on the ice. He knew he would be allowed only one shot, one attempt, for his opponent was fierce and quick would surely capture anything that did not score. He was frightened, he was tired, and then he was angry. It took two taps of the puck to collect his thoughts as he began his drift. The puck moved in front of him and guided his attack. Right before he struck the puck he closed his eyes like shark closes its eyes before attacking large prey and felt the collision of hard rubber on plastic. It was fast...lightning fast as the puck grazed the side of his opponents mallet and went in his goal. The impact left pieces of yellow plastic on the table. He had won. The noise level in the stadium was high and he felt himself being lifted off the ground by fellow players and fans. 2012 was his year...his World Championship, his victory, and he would remember it by saving the newspaper articles. He was a hero now in 46 other countries...the underdog who beat the current champion. But even though he was in pain, those wounds would go away. He knew; however, that his legacy would forever live on.