I arrived at the rink early on that cold December day. I pulled my bag out of the back of my moms white truck and heaved it over my shoulder. I slowly made my way to the entrance of Ben Boeke, slipping on the sheets of ice that easily could be its own rink if it lost all the gravel. As I entered, the smell of sweat and chemicals hit my nose and I felt my nerves build. This was it. The championship game. My team had worked the whole season to get to this point. Every day of painful dry land and every practice all lead up to this game, The State Championship.
I entered the locker room and fo…
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