Net

I saw the damn thing coming. It was sliding at a perfect angle toward my stick as I moved toward the net. How could it be so perfect? The goalie was down, the net was open; wide open like a big smiling mouth and the puck was coming my way. Since I started playing this game a year and a half ago I've been waiting for this moment. Tonight my chance at the elusive one timer was at hand. It was just so easy; the puck was sliding, not bouncing or rolling. I was in control, well balanced and poised. I wound up for my moment of glory and let fly with with all my years of closet hockey star might. This was my time. Then I heard it; the distinct sound of vulcanized rubber meeting solid metal. It was the post. I hit the freaking post. Son of a bitch.