I exhale, gripping my stick and guiding the puck to my right. I look up at the rafters, a beam of light guiding me, and I smile. “For you, Mama,” I whisper. I pull my stick back to my waist. I hit the puck as hard as I can, getting it off just before the defender can steal it from me. It hits the left side of the goal, a bounce off the post before crossing the goal line under the goalie’s knees as the buzzer sounds, ending the game.
