When I was 12 years old, we played street hockey. Street hockey was basically ice hockey without the ice, skates, and puck. Most of the neighborhood kids played street hockey, some more than others. We spent hours and hours blocking cars from easy passage down Big Oak Lane. It was our street after all. How dare they interrupt the game!
When we got tired of playing against each other, we sought out others that played our game. A couple of streets down from us was a team called Redwood. Besides being a street, Redwood was a team of really good ice hockey players, most of them all stars. We were just a bunch of hackers from Big Oak, or so they might have thought.
But we lived and breathed this game of street hockey. One year, we destroyed our front lawn and wore it down to bare dirt playing so many games. Numerous garage doors were also obliterated from constant barrages of slap shots. This was our sport.
So, when the gauntlet was thrown down and we were challenged to play against Redwood. there really was only one thing to do before the game. Victory Party!
We went to the grocery store and bought Cheetos and pop and celebrated our upcoming victory against Redwood in our treehouse. We just believed we were going to win.
The game was held and we won 7-2. Redwood was stunned and really mad. How could a bunch of nobodies beat an all star team? Rematch. OK.
After another Victory Party, we routed them 14-2 this time. They were convinced and we were as well, only for us it was before we played the game.
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