"As long as I could remember, since I was 5 years old, I watched the Stanley Cup. I stayed up, made a point of watching it presented, watched the celebration in the locker room, and always dreamed that maybe I'd get there” -Steve Yzerman

Blurs of blood red
Gunmetal black
Blow past me
Like jets in takeoff

Razor sharp blades
Cut up
The ice
Carving marvelous signatures in frozen ground--
Go unseen by anyone.

Bruised, battered faces scrunch into permanent glares
One of the enemies
Slams
Head first
Into the boards,
Spit sent flying out of mouth

One player, in red, picks up the puck
Stickhandles with great skill through five players making glorious spin moves and placing the puck with precise precision like a sniper in war
Through
Opponent’s legs

He winds up
Throws his bulky hands, muscular arms forward
In perfect unison
The puck soars towards the goalie

Goalie throws his heavily padded arm into the air
Gracefully
Like and eagle slicing through the air,
Snatches the puck before it crosses the faded red line

Anger flashes
Like a strike
Of red lightening in the player’s eyes as he
Slams
His stick on the ice sending shards
Sharp enough to slice through flesh
into the air

30 seconds
Tension
drops
As they take their places around the circle.

Puck

Is


Dropped
With a flick of the wrist,
Sticks crash into each other, clashing like ancient Greek swords

The puck is won back
It lands
Silently
On his stick

Powerful arms extend over his head

Picks his spot on the net,
With
20/20 eyesight

Unleashes
All of his might onto the icy black piece
Of rubber,
It’s catapulted
Into air

A split second
Time stands still
As everyone watches

Players of the opposing team
Come out of shock
Move their Skates
They move as if the ice was maple Syrup
Black saucer
Flies by them
Towards the net

The goalie,

the last defense,

Sees the puck right as it is upon him,
Tries
To react
Stop the dreaded beast,
But is to slow

The puck hits
The back of the torn,
Stained yellow
Net
In the upper right corner

Zebra patterned
Ref
Throws

His


Arm


Down
Drone of the buzzer sounds

Team in red
Throws
Gloves and
Sticks
In the air,
They pour down like raindrops
On a stormy day

Dog pile
On the ice
Jumping on top of each other.

Other team slumps
To
The
Ground
As if
They had been shot through the heart

Tears
In their eyes,
Others just
Out to the beyond.
Bloody and battered faces
Now covered in
Sadness
The Cup
Glistening
Like diamonds in
Bright light
Hoisted
Above heads
With mighty arms
Kissed with
Passion
of a newly wedded couple.

Teams shake
Trembling hands,

Head
To the locker rooms,
Cheering
Or
Crying

One team comes out
Victorious
The other--
Loser

But
That’s just how the game goes.

"Good teams win one, outstanding teams win two, and a few truly great teams win three”
-Steve Yzerman