The shooter glared at me with her glowing eyes, seeming to believe that she could manage to fire the ball past me, in my bulky and protective padding. The umpire blew the whistle, releasing a shrieking sound that signaled for the penalty shot to be taken. The opponent started at the top of the eight-meter arch, but quickly sprinted to the two orange goal posts, which I felt determined to defend from her shot. The opponent drew back her stick, preparing to fire and release the two pound ball towards my body, in an attempt to score. The ball was flung out of her stick, a bounce shot at my lower left shin. I leapt towards the ball to cut down the angle on the shot, while reaching towards the ground to block the shot. I felt a pressure against my stick and realized that the game rested in my stick, in the heart of the rubber ball.