Your team is behind by one with less than five minutes to go. There is a large crowd but they are all just two steps above ambivalent. Disappointment lurks in the background but it is not foremost on masses minds. Everyone is waiting for something to happen to make them care, to give them hope.
One minute is left.
You are disappointed. Streaks are coming to an end. You haven’t been to many games and you rue your luck – being there to see it end. The team makes it’s desperate move – pulling the goalie in favor of an extra offensive player. You wonder how traffic will be after the game. You wonder how your wife is doing. You wonder what the rest of the weekend will bring. At ten seconds the player with potential, a label that lingers like an unfulfilled promise, gets the puck near the goal. No one is in position to stop the puck but the other team’s goalie. He makes his move and flicks the puck at the net. Movement barely registers on the goalie as the puck sails unmolested into the net.
The beast has awakened.
You are on your feet, hands thrust in the air. You are screaming – not that you could tell with the noise around you. The noise of the crowd hurts, but it feels so good. Like gasoline on a fire, it feeds you with raw power. Like a fire the crowd, the moment, consumes you. There is no you. There is just emotion. There is just release.