After experiencing the museum, Montgomery felt different. My class was silent. Nobody cared to crack any jokes. The air even started to smell different — like rotting garbage, reminiscent of the Southern Magnolia that Billie Holiday sung about decades prior. 

I made a few saves, and my dad came over to me, raving that he was proud of my first performance and reassuring that missed saves were not solely my fault — it was a team effort. I played goalie for a few more games and soon fell in love with the position.