Dylan skates to the reporter with his helmet off as he tries to catch his breath. “Well, it seems like you did it.” “Apparently,” he says, smiling, and he looks up at me. His hands are on his waist. “It must be surreal,” the reporter says. “It is,” he says, and the crowd starts to chant his name. “But I wouldn’t be here without my family and their support,” he says and looks at me again and points. “But most importantly, my dad.”
