“Right here, right here!” I yelled to my defense partner for a pass, not knowing that this pass would change who I am forever, changing my mind set for how I feel about others reacting to my mistake. My defense partner must have felt as the one to blame, but I could never put something like this at the fault of someone else. In sports things don’t always happen how you want, but it’s how you react to the situation that makes you smart. The puck does a dance on the end of my carbon fiber stick covered with a fresh coat of white tape. I try to calm down the jittery puck, with a struggle I catch it along the boards. Suddenly I am hit, as if a wrecking ball came swinging down into my back. My feet leave the ice and my head leads the way.

“Shayn…..Shayn, can you hear me?” said my coach with a tone I've never heard before. I was used to his typical fun outgoing attitude, but this was a concerned frightened tone. Hearing this from him told me something was wrong. I could tell he was scared, but he kept calm for my sake. Knowing he was scared though hurt me, I've only seen my coach frightened once before when his sons best friend died of cancer. I supported him on that when he needed it and I knew he would do the same for me. He was a great guy who had a connection with all his players in their own special way. I trusted that whatever was wrong he would take care of me and I wouldn't have anything to worry about. When it finally occurred to me to make some kind sound to let my coach know I was still alive, I opened my eyes at spat out the first thing I saw, “theres a lot of blood, coach.” “I know Shayn,” he said softly back. At that moment without thinking my leg did a little jump into the air, finally letting the suffocating audience to take another breath. I thought about how they must have been holding their breath for me, unsure what my condition was. Not knowing is the worst kind of scare. That thought rattled me more than anything else going on. Putting that sudden jolt of fear into so many other people because of me was not something I enjoyed.

When my coaches decided it was safe to move me off the ice, they put my arms around their shoulders and carried me to the door. As we passed our teams bench the faces on teammates, who had my back on everything and treated me like a brother, consisted of long blank stares, I was sure to give them a small smirk to assure them I would be fine. As I turned my head I saw my mom running over to meet me and everything became real. I began to think what was going through her head as I laid there motionless, she must have been frightened a hundred times more than the rest of the audience. Her heart must have skipped two beats just wondering if I was going to move. I saw her catch up to my dad who was standing along the boards as he always does, watching all my games, never in the stands. His face said he was calm, but I knew his blood pressure was at an all time high. He never reacts to a situation the same, he hides his true emotions with strong actions, trying to take charge as if he knows what he’s doing. Then my mind went deeper into itself and I tried to reflect on what happened. Then I realized that I didn’t remember anything from the time I was hit til my coach saying my name. All I can remember seeing is black and a few bright white stars that were gone before I could say one second.

Later my mom told me that the hit was dirty and the other team could care less. They stood there and acted as if they did nothing wrong. How could so many people know they were doing the wrong thing but not care or show any sign of sorrow. My mom also told me she counted the exact time I was laying there. I didn't move 5 seconds, 5 seconds I don’t remember happening, 5 seconds I will never get back. This event never changed the way I looked at hockey, but it changed the way I play. I started to practice becoming a much smarter hockey player and being able to avoid situations like that. I did this because I never want to scare anyone like this again. Putting fear into someone because of my actions isn't something I want to happen again.