The sound of his body hitting the ice seemed deafening. The silence that followed was louder. He wasn’t getting up. The entire rink fell quiet, a single unit holding its breath as the great Farley Gordon lay motionless on the ice. Moose flung his stick aside and raced to Farley’s side. He was barely conscious, but his lips were moving. Moose leaned closer to hear.
“Hockey, hockey, the greatest game in the land.”
Farley’s eyes closed.