Shorten this personal narrative. The following day, I reveled in the luxury of late morning, a privilege earned by our top position in Pool A. Our game was slated for 10:30 am, a welcome respite from the usual 8:30 am start. We arrived early at the rink, eager to witness the crucial match between Hanna and Vegreville, the outcome of which would determine the finalists. The game was a nail-biter, culminating in an intense overtime. Hanna clinched victory with a swift breakaway goal, leaving Vegreville in tears. Their disappointment was palpable, a sight we were determined to avoid. As we donned our gear, the pulsating rhythm of our chosen music fueled our adrenaline. The coaches' pre-game pep talk further stoked our spirits. We stormed onto the ice, the stands gradually filling with spectators. The National Anthem echoed through the rink, a solemn reminder of the stakes. We removed our helmets, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. We knew we had to push beyond our limits to secure victory. Our opponents, second in Pool B, were formidable, but we were confident in our ability to triumph. The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the game was afoot. Fairview seized the puck,