6 years ago on this day: the save of the century

Six years ago today
I walked through the streets of Paris —
crying and dancing at the same time,
overwhelmed with pride, with joy,
with love for the one who just saved it all.

I told complete strangers how brilliant she was.
How they had just witnessed greatness —
“That’s Hedvig Lindahl. That’s my keeper.”

It was the first time I ever celebrated in a way
that felt almost shameless.
No filter, no holding back.
Just pure, wild emotion.

Because that wasn’t just a penalty save.
That was the release of years of loyalty,
of fear, of silent hope —
all unleashed in one glorious dive.

And I?
I exploded.
Loud, ungraceful, uninhibited.
Because finally — finally —
she got what she deserved.

She didn’t just stop Canada.
She stopped the doubts.
She reclaimed her aura.
She reminded the world:
“I’m Hedvig. And I’m not done.”

That night in Paris was my personal final.
Not on a scoreboard —
but in my soul.

And in that scandalous cheer of mine,
a piece of football history walked with me.





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