A New Season by Terry Fallis EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Terry Fallis
- Language: English
- Genre:Popular
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“NOW THAT’S USING YOUR FACE, Jack-Mac!” a spectator shouted as
the buzzer sounded to end my weekly ball hockey game. To be clear, I
actually knew who yelled from the sidelines, but let’s just go with “a
spectator,” shall we? Why encourage him? My teammates gathered around
to congratulate me on the winning goal. Yes, it’s true. For once, I was the
hero. Let me give you the slow-motion replay of my big moment in case
you’re blissfully unaware. And also because my clutch goal, spectacular
though it was, did not make the highlight reel on SportsCentre that night.
With the game tied in the final minute of play, I had assumed my
position in front of the net to try to screen their goalie. The ball somehow
found its way to one of our stronger defencemen back on the blue line.
I
watched him wind up for one of his terrifying slapshots as I trembled in the
firing line. My mission—and I chose to accept it—was to try to deflect the
ball to make it even tougher for their goalie to stop. Miraculously, the blade
of my stick caught a piece of the orange plastic sphere as it whizzed
towards the net at a speed that had me waiting for a sonic boom. It was sort
of a good news/bad news/good news scenario. I did deflect the ball—good
news—but right into my own face—bad news. That may sound painful, but
for years I’ve worn a full wire cage on my helmet—smart, right?—so the
ball bounced harmlessly off my well-protected face and into the net to win
the game with about two seconds left on the clock—good news, again.
It used to be that my ball hockey game was a high point of my week,
which is saying something for a guy who had just about everything I could
have ever desired. My life was nearly perfect. That all changed two years,
five months, and fourteen days ago.
Despite it all, I still loved and needed
my ball hockey and the roughly ninety guys who made up the six teams in
our community league. In fact, I think I needed the game and the guys more
than ever. You see, for an hour or so every week from April to October, my
mind was completely and singularly focused on playing the sport I’ve loved
since I was about six years old. Okay, let me spell it out. It was an escape.
An escape for just a brief moment each week, but an escape nonetheless. It
was only after the game, and after the post-game “analysis” at our local
watering hole, that reality returned and settled over me like falling ash from
a volcanic eruption.
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