The Game Winner

I think I see my life most clearly when I have my eyes closed.

As I skated towards the net weighted down heavily with goalie equipment, I kept hearing the coach's instructions repeated in my head.

"This is the most important game of your life. It has to be won. This is the most important game of your life. It has to be won."

Over and over, his voice trickled through my mind. I reached the net and turned around and saw the other team waiting across the ice. They had no distinguishable facial features and they seemed inhumanly over-inflated, even though I knew they had to be men just like me. The whistle blew and they started coming at me, charging like hungry sharks swimming through the air. I looked around for my team, and there was no one. The first shot came hard, right to my chest, and I held on to the puck until the whistle blew. The next shot hit me square in the gut, but again I held on. Shot after shot was taken at me, each time harder than the last, all coming directly at me as if the only way to the net was right through me.

After a hundred shots, I knew that I was alone out here on the ice. There would be no teammates coming on in the next line change to help me. But I still have to win this game. It's the most important one of my life.

So after the next shot hits me in the chest, nearly knocking me over, I don't hold on to it. I drop it down in front of me and push it with my stick, around the other team, following behind it as quickly as I can. When I reach the other net, the goalie has a surprised look on his face. I can see it through his mask. I take a shot and it slides right between the goalie's legs. Just like that, the game is over. I skate over to my coach to hear what a great game I played, and he's already gone. My bench is empty, the entire arena is empty.

I was playing against myself the whole time.