Page 61 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
A Columbus forward sneaks to the crease, waiting. Their defenseman, Grant, winds up for a slap shot from the blue line.
Crack!
Johansson, their captain, catches a pass near the face-off circle. He fakes a slap shot, making me drop slightly - but it’s a trick. Shifting his weight, he flicks the puck over to their winger, who slaps it - fast, hard, perfectly aimed at the corner of the net.
The puck rockets toward me. I throw out my glove - snap! But I don’t catch it clean. It drops right in front of me.
Johansson crashes in. I lunge, stick out, desperate to poke it away - but he gets there first. A quick flick.
Goal.
The Columbus crowd explodes.
1–1.
I shake it off. No time to dwell. The game isn’t over.
In the second period, we tighten up. Tomas steals a pass at center ice and races toward the net. Their defense closes in, but he cuts right, dragging the puck with him, and flicks a shot over the goalie’s shoulder.
Goal!
2–1.
Third period. Do or die.
Columbus fights back. Hard. They hammer me with shots - slap shots from the blue line, rebounds, tight scrambles. I drop, block, stretch, deflect - every muscle locked in, every instinct firing.
Five minutes left.
Johansson flies into our zone, sneaking past our defense like they aren’t even there. He’s aiming for me.
I square up. Ready.
He snaps a wrist shot - fast, top corner.
I explode upward, snatching it out of the air with my glove. Crowd groans.
I hold onto it for a second. Let them feel that one. Then I drop the puck for Tomas to clear.
With 1:45 left on the clock, Columbus pulls their goalie.
Six attackers. Full pressure.
Chaos.
The puck bounces between skates, between sticks. I can barely track it. Then - boom! A shot comes through traffic. I drop and save, but the rebound is loose.
A Steelhawks forward swings - I dive - stick out - deflection!
Liam snags it.
He races down the ice, the Steelhawks defenders scrambling behind him, but he’s too fast. With a glance over his shoulder, Liam sees the empty net. The puck flies off his stick, cutting through the air in a perfect arc. Whoosh, clink!
The crowd falls silent for a split second, the tension hanging in the air.
Then… - Goal!
The puck slams into the empty net.
