Bob packed his camera bag the same way he always does for a hockey game: extra batteries (cold eats them), a microfiber cloth for the glass, and a mental note to shoot through the scratches, not fight them.
The rink was already alive when he walked in — that familiar mix of cold air, skate cuts in the ice, and parents stamping their feet to stay warm.
Bob was there to shoot a game.
But as it turned out, he was also there to watch a star.
Right from warm-up, number 21 stood out. Head up, stick on the ice, always moving. The kind of player who doesn’t just chase the puck — she seems to know where it’s going to be before it gets there. Bob raised the camera and smiled behind it. This wasn’t just another player. This was his niece.
From the first shift, she was everywhere.
Bob tracked her through the viewfinder as she glided into open ice, picked up passes, and pressured the puck along the boards. The glass shook, the crowd leaned in, and the bench reacted every time she jumped over the boards. Bob fired frames through the moment — the bend in the knees, the focus in the eyes behind the cage, the stick blade hovering just above the ice.
There’s a special challenge shooting hockey when you care this much.
You want the action.
You want the story.
And you want your hands to stay steady when your heart doesn’t.
Number 21 carried the puck with confidence, battled through traffic, and never backed off a play. One sequence had Bob holding his breath — a clean pickup, a quick turn, and a drive forward that forced the defense to scramble. Click. Click. Click. Those are the moments photographers live for: not just what happened, but how it happened.
Between plays, Bob lowered the camera and watched the bench. Teammates tapping sticks. Coaches calling shifts. Opponents watching her closely now. That’s when you know someone’s making an impact — when the other team starts adjusting.
By the end of the game, there was no debate.
The star of the game wore 21.
Bob packed up slowly after the final buzzer, fingers cold, memory cards full. He knew he had photos that told the story — not just of a hockey game, but of effort, growth, and confidence earned shift by shift.
Street photography teaches Bob to look for moments.
Hockey taught him something else that night: sometimes the strongest stories aren’t found downtown or in a crowd — sometimes they’re skating past you on fresh ice.
Bob went home with photos.
But more than that, he went home proud.
And somewhere on that ice, number 21 skated off knowing she earned every bit of it.
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