The lights are turned off. The curtains are closed. The only light in the room comes from the television, centered in our cramped living room and blasting updates on the game as the announcers broadcast every single play in explicit detail. We could of course see it on screen, but the announcers made the plays so much for enthralling and made us lean forward, eyes glued to the action on the screen. For this match, my eyes wander to Sidney Crosby, my favourite player and Canada’s up and coming hockey star.
Thirteen minutes of suspense and Jonathan Toews, sporting number 16,shoots the puck past USA goalie Ryan Miller and nets Team Canada their first goal! We leap up, cheering as the buzzer goes off, announcing the game's first goal, and for our country nonetheless. My brother and I laugh, high fiving in victory.
The next goal isn't scored till the second period. At this point, players on the ice are already beginning to look tired, from the US and Canada both. Corey Perry manages to sneak in another solid goal for Team Canada, past Miller’s iron defense that our players have been trying to break all game.
My family’s response is slightly less enthusiastic this time, it’s second period and while we’re up two nothing, there’s still far too much time of game left to call victory this early. Nonetheless, we cheer and bump fists, praising Perry for his skill. The Olympics are no parlor game after all, and whilst these guys are pro NHL players, the Olympics are on a whole other level of professionalism.
And of course, we were right not to celebrate too early. Roberto Luongo, star goalie and player for our very own Vancouver Canucks can’t keep up his goal saving all game. It
begins with one shot in the second period. There’s only one more period left though, and praying for no more US goals, I lean forward, my hands clenched at my sides. For the most part, our defense is solid and if we can keep the puck from the Canadian half of the ice, we can save Luongo his stamina and maybe, just maybe, secure a win.
It’s too much to ask for. While Luongo’s defenses are strong, thirty seconds before the third period ends, Team USA shoots past him, puck hitting the back of the net. The Canadian players look dejected. It may not be over, but with a 2-2 score, this is now anyone's game.
The game goes into overtime. It comes as no surprise. Scoring another goal in the remaining thirty seconds would have been next to impossible anyways.
The overtime drags on. The players fight harder, both teams know that whoever makes a goal wins the round, the gold, and the world spotlight. Neither one is willing to settle for silver.
In a last ditch effort,Team Canada pins their hopes on one player. Number 87. Sidney Crosby. Team Captain.
It was a bet well placed. Twelve minutes and twenty seconds into overtime, Crosby aims. The puck rests on his stick for mere seconds before it is launched into the net. The final goal of the game. The one that would be known for years to come as “Crosby’s golden goal.”
Celebration comes easily and suddenly we’re all up, standing and screaming in joy, much like the players on screen. Noise filters through the thin walls of our townhouse complex and the prideful, ecstatic yells of our neighbors can be heard.
It’s with happy tears streaming down our faces and excited screams that we cheer. The pride and joy that comes from this moment, says one thing about us. We are Canadian. And on this day, as the crowd roars, we have won.
Written by Brooke Mackey for ECS 110
Dodging left, I narrowly avoid a blast sent towards me courtesy of my younger brother. A quick swipe down and I send an attack back, knocking him off the platform. But alas! It was in vain and I grit my teeth in agitation, watching as he pulls himself back up. The other people battling around us seem less important; this is a battle between siblings and one that must be settled without interruption.
A bright flash of light interrupts our battle. The power up item, a glowing rainbow orb titled the “smash ball” has appeared! A moment is taken away from our fight in order to try and obtain this valuable item; whoever grabs it successfully could quickly gain the upperhand in this battle. I abandon my attack and sprint towards it, while the others follow, all seemingly mesmerized by the power presented by the smash ball. The struggle to get the item becomes fierce and I dodge attacks from my foes left and right, trying desperately to reach out and catch the rainbow orb.
Success! I destroy the item and my body becomes enveloped by a glowing aura. My brother Conner shoots me a sideways look of fear as he realizes my intention to blast him right off the stage.
A devious grin on my face, I charge my attack and activate it, the luminescent energy from the attack flinging everyone upwards and swinging them back down to hit the platform, causing everyone, my brother included, to fly off of it.
The timer ends and with a cry of victory, I throws my arms into the air, my translucent blue game controller held above my head. The end screen appears and I see my character standing at the forefront of the screen in 1st place, looking smug while the computer controlled characters and my brother’s character have small portions of the screen dedicated to their admittedly subpar performances.
With a self-assured smile, I turn to my brother, who is glaring halfheartedly, with a glint of thirst for revenge visible in his dark irises.
“Another round?” He asks, holding up his controller in challenge.
I smirk, cocky in my win. “Of course, but I’m gonna kick your butt yet again, so get ready!” I tell him, and knock my controller against his in acceptance of his challenge while swinging my arm up to ruffle his messy hair. He ducks under my touch and swats my arm away as I fall back, laughter bubbling in my throat. While I’m spread across the couch, head lulling back against the side, the character selection screen comes up, as though Conner was trying to take advantage of my distraction and get the upperhand in a match.
I smile to myself. Moments of like these, where we waved our controllers in the air, jumping up from our beaten family couch whenever things got intense, were my favourite, even if I didn’t always win. Compared to the typical yelling spats my brother and I tended to have, these fun, lazy times truly defined my idea of home and comfort.
The screen on the tv shifts into the starting stage and I shake my head, clearing it of any other thoughts as I bolt upright, controller at the ready. It was time for another fierce battle, and I wasn’t going to let my brother win without a fight.