He was the last pick for the Milford Flyers. His tryout was inept and poorly executed. This is what he always wanted, what he worked for, what he dreamt about. He felt like a dolt for playing so horribly in a game he loved. Hockey was his life, and it almost ended with the shame of not playing again. He promised himself that he would never let that happen again. He was full of gratitude for being picked but apprehensive of what the other teammates thought of him.
His mind was in perpetual hought of how to overcome the lack of skill he showed. He hoped the coach would give him an opportunity to show what he could do. As the year elapsed his skills became an asset to the team. He could wrest the puck from a player by receding and advancing with extraordinary speed. He would use his glower to intimidate, and body to camouflage what his hands would do with the stick and puck. His body was in perpetual motion.
When his first attempt at making a goal didnt work, he would improvise y passing to another player. The crowd was a good motivator for him. To get them involved he would agitate them by deliberately being placid then being aggressive. He would habitually ferret out an opponents weakness and use this to the teams advantage. This skill would serve to increase the fervor of the crowed. The last game of the season came all too quickly. He was nervous though radiant in his previous accomplishments.
He could not nor would not forget his earlier affront to his pride. He knew that he did not get this far alone. His team as well did most of the work. He called the team together to confer on strategy. The game began with negligible problems. He kicked his skating into high gear and made some exemplary moves. Before the other team could retaliate, he slapped the puck home. The crowed at first was eerily silent but then broke out into a tremendous roar. LETS GO JOHN, LETS GO!!!!!!!!! It was like a rite of passage His dream come true.
