The cold, dry smell of the rink, the sound of skates cutting into the ice and the noise of sticks clashing against each other as two players battle for the puck, all to be silenced in a moment by the screech of a referee’s authoritative whistle, these extraordinary activities of the senses are what I associate the beauty that is ice hockey with. Hockey throughout the years has taught me more than just how to ice skate and or how to shoot a puck, it has also taught me the importance of a good work ethic, respect, companionship, communication, and determination. However my love for hockey began at the young, naive age of two when my father was stationed in Germany because of his role in the United States Army. My dad's platoon consisted of the barbaric geniuses that are loud-mouthed hockey fans, while my family consisted of my boastful, competitive Texas mom, the epic combination of the two resulted in my mother becoming a fan of the only texas NHL team, the Dallas Stars. My birth-giver would get up early in the morning around 6:00 a.m. to watch the Stars’ games and I would venture my way out of the confinement that was my crib and watch the entirety of the game. Family and friends would be baffled by the unnatural phenomenon that was a two year born toddler male sitting without migrate for more than a few minutes (other than the obvious exception of slumber). I continued to observe, learn, and love the sport and on the fifth anniversary of my birth, my celebration was held at the marvelous wonderment called the ice rink. The excitement overwhelmed my pre-mature, tiny five year old body as my mother strapped on the worn in, dark brown ice skates until the miraculous moment where it was finally my moment to skate on the beautiful, white sheet of cold ice. One step, two steps, three steps, this was amazing most fun I had had the honor of experiencing in the entirety of my life, all up
until that pleasure ending instant that was my downfall (literally). Disappointment surged through my body, as i fell down down down onto the cold, hard ice, I felt all of my dreams and aspirations get lost in the pain that I felt in my butt. Tears streamed down my hairless face as my parents rushed to help me up, I sat out and ate cake on the side as I cried “I DON’T EVER
WANT TO SKATE AGAIN.” The same day as my ice catastrophe, as a birthday present, I was my very own pair of roller skates, at the time they looked like spawns from the deepest canyon of hell.
As the timed passed and my anxiety grew, the hellish roller blades became more and more appealing until the day where I finally built up the courage to strap on the intricate inventions and try once again. I was determined to not cower and neal the fear of falling, I was not going to let the fear consume me, I was going to skate. One step off, a little unbalanced but vigorating and motivating,…