Hockey = therapy

*I actually wrote and was about to post this the night Rich Peverly collapsed. Somehow it didn't seem right to post it at that time, so here it is a few days later.

Eight years ago, GoalieHusband and I adopted a black cat, who was supposed to be "his" cat. We already had a kitty at home who was allegedly "mine", but who in all honestly bonded mostly with GoalieHusband. We continued his tradition of naming black cats after something red or firey, and at the time the Carolina Hurricanes had just won the Cup, and on the way home he turned to me and said "Who is that guy with the big red hair?" He was referring, of course, to Mike Commodore. And that is how Commie got his name. "Commodore" didn't last long before we were shortening it to "Commie". and everyone thought we were making a political statement when we told them our cat's name. Even the vet couldn't quite get it right. They always thought it was "Commander" or "Coma-dore". Every now and then I'd call him "Commander Commodore", or even "Commodore Barry" (don't ask where that came from, other than a road trip to PA for a tournament). But although we adopted him ostensibly as GoalieHusband's cat, he soon became mine. He wormed his way into my heart and we had a bond that if I tried to describe it will only make me sound like the quintessential crazy cat lady. If he wasn't sleeping, he was following me around. I could only be seated for approximately 3 minutes before he'd materialize and jump into my lap. He'd lay on my chest at night and "hug" me, putting a paw on each shoulder and leaning his head against my cheek.

Over the last few years, Commie developed some health problems. He had an overactive thyroid, and his kidneys weren't the greatest. Having already lost one cat to kidney disease, I steeled myself for what I pictured his end would be like. I never imagined that taking him to the vet for what I thought was a bad tooth would be the last time I saw him. (Although.... if you follow me on twitter, you know I did have an inkling... I just did a fantastic job of shoving it way down underneath the sofa cushions of my mind). He'd been drooling, which at first was kind of funny and cute - he was old, after all - but when there began to be a not so pleasant odor, and a tinge of brown or red to it, I knew I had to take him in to be looked at. He was eating fine, and acting totally normal, the two things that are first to go when he doesn't feel well, so I didn't really think it was anything serious. Boy was I wrong. My little buddy had an enormous tumor on his right temporal mandibular joint, preventing him from opening his mouth more than about an inch. It was embedded into his jaw and extended to the roof of his mouth. Even under sedation, they couldn't get his mouth open. Thoroughly stunned, GoalieHusband and I met at the vet's office that afternoon to say our last goodbyes. Although he seemed to be acting ok, we knew it was only a matter of days before he'd be unable to eat, and we couldn't possibly even consider putting him through that torture.

I've spent the last several daze in a zombie-like state, doing best when I have something to distract me. I've used the words "heartbroken" and "utterly devastated" to describe the tear through the middle of my heart, but I know deep down it was the right decision. I keep reliving the last few minutes we spent with him. I removed his collar and stuffed it in my pocket, and for the next few days wore it as a bracelet. The clinking sound his tag made comforted me. But I had three games this weekend. Some people might have found a sub, and indeed I skipped practice that week, but I knew that getting on the ice with my "other" family would be the best thing for me. I put his tag on a long chain and tucked it under my shirt, close to my heart, and on Friday night my team played the best game I've ever seen us play, and we won 2-0. I faced 23 shots. It being the novice team, it was wonderful to see the way everyone clicked. Some of our newest players are really starting to "get it", and we were rolling as a unit the whole time.

Saturday, unfortunately, was the complete opposite. It was the white team, the league team, and we had more players than we'd had for the last several games; three lines of offense and three lines of defense. I think that sort of threw everyone off. I was way off my game myself, having a tough time adjusting from the previous night's pace. I know when my timing is off, and going back and forth between levels has been wrecking havoc with my game all season long. I'll play on the white team one weekend, and then be completely unable to stop a shot in practice three days later against the red team shooters. I'll go from a red game to a white game and completely forget that pucks can come at you up high or totally misread the speed of a shot. We lost 7-1. It was ugly. I'm not taking sole responsibility, because it was a team-wide collapse, but I was right there in the thick of it.

Fortunately we had a chance at redemption the next night. I think everyone felt the same- we needed to make up for that horrid performance. So much so that for the entire first period, I saw a grand total of three shots. I started to worry that I wouldn't be ready when the shots finally started coming, but I was. We ended up winning 3-1, and I would estimate my shots around 20. But they were 20 ridiculously hard shots to stop, including one dive to the side that was an ode to Tim Thomas. I hit my rhythm and was back in my groove, much to my relief. And none too soon. We have a game this weekend that is do-or-die, playoff-wise. If we win, we have a chance. If we don't, we're done until October. (Well... except for tournaments, which are in a world unto themselves). Since the minute we lost our playoff game last season it has been my goal to get back to playoffs again and do some damage this time. I think we can do it, if we realize we have to earn it.

Getting after it

It’s March? When did that happen? All of a sudden we only have two more league games before the end of the season, and it’s crunch time. Last season we clinched a playoff spot early, finishing first in the division. This season we struggled a bit more, and are fighting for our playoff lives as we come down the stretch. Saturday night we faced a particularly difficult opponent. The last time we played them, we lost 1-0, and were told that no one else in our division had been able to keep the score so low. That was back in the beginning of the season though, when we didn’t have holes in the roster. For a few weeks we were without our coach (injury), and for various other reasons we seemed to never have our full team for games. Everyone came back just in time though. Having recently been cleared by her doctor (even though she played the week before, shhhh), Hkygrl12 was back in the lineup, and most of the rest of the team was there as well on Saturday. We have a few exuberant young-ins, which adds a whole other layer of amusement to a locker room that's already rife with it. They’re quite taken with the movie “Frozen”, and have been serenading us with its songs lately during practice. They commandeered the iPod player as we got ready for the game and forced us all to listen to … I have no idea. Some song from the movie that sounded like a Broadway musical to me. Not exactly pre-game hockey music. I belly-ached about it good-naturedly, and gionta182 and I kept rolling our eyes at each other, but they were not to be deterred and sang along loudly.  In recompense I requested one of the few popular-music songs I’ve latched onto recently: "Radioactive". I honestly have no idea what most of the words even are, I just really dig that song. In fact it got stuck in my head Saturday night and is still there. This is it, the apocalypse.

Well, now we will be forced to listen to the musical number before every game we have left, because we played probably our best game of the season. Everyone played hard, and just did not give up. They scored first, in the first period, on a play I was handcuffed on. I had to cover the puck carrier, but there was another girl sneaking down behind that no one saw, and with the D drawn to the puck carrier she had an easy goal. I tried to get over in time but didn’t quite get there. That was probably in the first half of the period, but fortunately we evened it up not long after. I think that buoyed everyone’s spirits. And then I spent half a period with  my head up my ass. Ok, not really. But there were two pretty lousy goals in the second period, putting us down 3-1, and I figured that was it. But we didn’t give up. Including me. We just kept fighting and fighting and slowly climbed out of our hole, eventually scoring 4 unanswered goals. Including killing a 6 –on-4 power play (empty net). When we made it 3-2 I shouted and cheered. When it was 3-3, I just bent down and breathed deep, determined to center myself and stay steady and do my part. Then it was 3-4 and again I drew deep on my yoga to stay calm. When the empty-netter sealed it with 3 seconds to go, I nearly dropped to my knees. I couldn’t get to my teammates fast enough after that final buzzer. We were a giant mass of happiness. That win meant A LOT in terms of our confidence and our playoff hopes. One down, two to go. In games I’ve been working on focusing only on the next shot, and that’s what we have to do in a broader sense with these games. One at a time. That’s the only way we can get there. And do we ever want to get there. #GoGoalieGo

Waking up the Goaliebrain

For the last five months at work I've been on a major project and logging lots of hours. I didn't take any time off over the holidays, in fact I worked most weekends and holiday days. I have a reprieve, just in time for my favorite thing ever - Olympic hockey. I've taken a few much-needed days off, scheduled around the women's hockey games I don't want to miss. (The big men's games are mostly on the weekend, so no vacation time needed there). Yesterday morning I settled down with a nice hot cup of coffee and watched the replay of the Canada vs Switzerland game. And I was hooked within minutes. I had the same feeling I got all those years ago when I walked into the rink for a public skate and saw women playing. The skating plans were quickly abandoned, and I spent the next hour transfixed.

It would be a few years before I would become a part of that big and quirky family, and I really did enjoy my years playing with the guys. In fact sometimes I miss it a little bit. For as much as I have been a proponent of there being no gender on the ice, there really is a difference. I've always said "I don't care what's in you're pants, when you're on the ice you're just a hockey player". But now I kind of get it. I've spent years watching the NHL and hearing about players who as kids idolized this or that player, and whose goal was to make it to the show one day. It wasn't until yesterday morning that I really got it. The close-up of the goalie reveals the same intense gaze, but this one is highlighted with eyeliner and mascara. (Hey, they're going to be on camera. I don't blame them for wearing makeup). There are braids and pony-tails flying out of the backs of helmets as the players hustle up the ice. The shots of the bench look an awful lot like my own bench. Those are WOMEN out there. People just like me. I found myself randomly just breaking out into a grin, basking in the joy of watching the best women in the world in the sport I love. I still think that when you get right down to it, hockey players are hockey players regardless of their chromosomes, but having the chance to watch all women at this skill level is really invigorating.

The game itself wasn't all that exciting - at least for most people. I was in goalie heaven. Most of the play was in Switzerland's zone, and Swiss goalie Florence Schelling was absolutely killing it. My eyes were glued to her the entire time, hoping maybe some subtle thing would subconsciously soak into the Goaliebrain. She had 69 shots and stopped 64 of them, there certainly was ample opportunity for me to learn something. But as poised and confident and disciplined and skilled as they are, it's nice to hear they can be a little goofy too. It was during the game that the commentators mentioned that the teams dress at Shayba Arena, but practice at a different one, which they have to walk to. (I don't really get that... are there no locker rooms at the practice rink?)  Evidently the Swiss team was walking over for practice, and poor Florence Schelling was waddling along in her gear, when an Olympic volunteer took pity on her and gave her some assistance:

As if she was the first goalie to ever go for a ride on a luggage cart....

How to Evaluate a Rink Shower

Last week I didn't feel much like writing and reporting the less than successful weekend the Cats (and I personally) had. White tied again, 4-4, in the exact same manner: a late goal to tie it. In fact, it was with 1.7 seconds left on the clock. See? Nothing to write home about. Red lost 3-2, and I felt I could have been better in both games. I sullenly asked what the point was of all the off-season work I did if I couldn't help my team win. Since finishing Ultimate Goalie Training, I've been dithering around with other workouts, mostly back to the start of "Goalie Workout Club", but I wasn't finding that challenging enough. So on Friday I decided to start UGT over again from the beginning. Let me tell you, Phase 1 was nowhere near the piece of cake I thought it would be. I don't know if it was coincidence or not, but last night I felt back to my old form. Confident, strong, and alert. There were a few saves I made that in previous games probably would have gone in. I'd been over thinking things and playing awkwardly. Now I feel much more confident and comfortable in my own skin. We faced off against a pretty challenging team last night and won 5-1. We played a really good game, including killing off almost 3 complete penalties. (The lone goal came at the very end  of the last PK, on a screened shot from the point). I was very happy with the way I played. Nice change of pace.

Today I'm in the net for Red, at a rink we love to visit because of the proximity to a Houlihan's, which we always end up descending upon after our game. It's pretty funny when the conversation in the locker room goes like this:

"Where are we next week?"

"We're at the Blades"

"Yes!!!! Beers and stuffed mushrooms at Houlihans!!!!"


Personally, I evaluate rinks partially by the likelihood of a decent post-game shower. I'm the only player on either of my teams who showers after a game or practice, and I think for the most part this has a lot to do with the distance of my drive home. Most of them live pretty close to the rink, so don't have the prospect of a long stinky ride home. I got into the habit of it when I used to play early in the morning before work, and it seems to have stuck.  A post game/practice shower is not only refreshing, it's extremely relaxing. Unfortunately, the facilities in a lot of rinks leave a lot to be desired. Perhaps men are a lot less picky about their showers, but I evaluate them based on the following criteria:


Is there actually a handle on the faucet or is it just a knob of hockey tape on the naked stem?
This could be a deal-breaker. The ability to turn the water on is pretty crucial.

Is the water at least lukewarm?
Some showers take a while to warm up, so this could be deceiving. I have showered in some pretty cold showers though, it all depends on how disgusting I am. This also helps train you to take quick showers.

Does it smell like a combination of pee and Axe?
If so, a high school team has been in the locker room the session just before you. A sturdy pair of shower shoes negates the risk.

Are there small insects rising up from the drains?
Yes? Well.... when you run the water you'll drown them, so this one can go either way.

Do the showers join two locker rooms, with access from the other room?
Not a concern for guys, I guess, but when you realize some dude could walk in on you, it's going to be a smelly ride home.

Are there suspicious brown smears on the walls?
I'm not sure how these get there, other than by someone holding their butt cheeks open and spraying like a cat, but if showers are in that condition, I will invariably skip them.

Other than the two professional facilities I've played in, most rink showers seem to fall somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. Sadly, my home rink doesn't pass most of these criteria, but most of the time I end up showering anyway. With my glasses off, I can't see much anyway, so as long as I don't touch anything I'm pretty good. (Except for the brown smears. That is just unacceptable.)

Game 1 of ???

If nothing else, it's going to be an interesting season. Oh wait. We're the Quarry Cats. It's ALWAYS an interesting season! For me though, it will be a little challenging and I have very mixed feelings. My partner, Bacardi, is unable to commit to the season this year because of some major life stuff going on. She's devastated, as I would be, but she just can't do it this year. The teams have conferred and we think we can keep her involved, playing whatever games she is able to, and I will cover the rest. There are only a few times in the season where it would be physically impossible for me to play both the Red and White game that weekend. But between Bacardi possibly being able to play, and a handful of other goalies (heeeey #goalieharem) we can ask, it should be just fine. Nobody wanted to just go out and get another goalie to take her place. That's not how we roll. And that is what makes this team so awesome. So what does that mean for me? Well, I am in the strange position of looking forward to the opportunity to play lots of games, but at the same time feeling terrible for my buddy. We are keeping in touch though, and I hope she doesn't hesitate to jump in when she can.

So, my very busy season started last night. The White team traveled to face off against the Hawks. Last season we beat them in the regular season (I got a shutout in fact), only to take them too lightly in the playoffs and lose to them in the semi-final. As a result I was looking to the game for a bit of personal redemption. It was that loss that had prompted me to bust my ass training all summer, and I was hoping to make a very good showing. Unfortunately I disappointed myself and, I feel, my team. I know that everyone was busy blaming themselves, and not me, but we tied 4-4 and two of those goals were pretty weak, so I am frustrated with myself. What was all that training for if I'm going to give up goals like that? I'm trying to be patient with myself- it's only the first game of the season.

There were several high points though. I made lots of good saves, and our two rookies each got a goal. One is a teammate from the Red team last season who tried out for White this summer and made it. When she scored a beautiful goal with a shot over the other goalie's shoulder and into the top of the netting, I whooped and hollered with the rest of the team. The other was a girl who had the unusual distinction of earning her nickname at the very first game. Before it, in fact. Her name is Gabby, but she will be forever known as "Pete" now. We already had a Gabbie on the team, and were trying to figure out how to make the distinction. "Old Gabbie" was immediately rejected. "Classic Gabbie", "Vintage Gabbie" and "Pre-existing Gabbie" were floated but when new-Gabby said "You can call me anything you want. You can call me Pete for all I care," that was the end of that. When Coach (i.e. GoalieHusband) came in to read off the lines, and got to her, everyone interrupted him and said "No, her name is Pete!". He paused, confused, and said to her "P-e-a? Or just 'P'?" We all giggled and yelled "No, PETE"! He shrugged, crossed something out on his pad and said "Ok then. Pete it is." So, naturally, when she scored, everyone went nuts and yelled "Peeeeeeeete!"

All teams are off today. Blue played last night as well and won, 7-2, with only 8 skaters. Monx77 netted one after a long and frustrating season off due to injury, which only made that victory sweeter. Next weekend the double-duty starts for me. Red on Saturday and White on Sunday. But before that, practice on Wednesday. A dry glove? What is that?

Fighting MS in PA

After enduring the traffic hell that caused a 260 mile trip to take 8 hours, GoalieHusband and I were on the road again Saturday morning to meet up with the three QCats teams that had gone to Bethlehem to participate in another Hockey Fights MS tournament. We had two teams in the D division and one team in the C division. I was playing on the C team this time around. Bacardi had subbed for me in Friday night's game, which we won 3-1. I have to admit I was pretty nervous about playing with the C team, even though I knew I could handle it.

The first game on Saturday was one of those deceptively difficult ones- I only saw 5 shots. Fortunately I improved over my last experience in a game like that and came out of it with a shutout. Whew. It always feels pretty crappy to get scored on when you have so little to do, but that's exactly what makes it so hard to stay focused. I cleaned imaginary snow out of my crease, sang to myself, and yelled helpful things to my teammates, even though I'm sure they couldn't hear me anyway all the way down in the other zone.

The next game was slightly more challenging. I didn't count shots and neither did the scorekeeper but I'd estimate about 15. We won 6-2. The most challenging game of all though was the championship game, which we played Sunday morning. The team we'd faced on Friday was our opponent again in this game, and I was pretty nervous after hearing the others talk about how intense that game had been. It was everything I expected: physical, fast, and even a little chippy. We went up 2-0 but they answered back and the first period ended at 2-1. We traded goals a few times and with just a few minutes left in the third period, we were ahead 4-3. Until they scored.

Here's a little tip from your friendly neighborhood goalie. Skaters- when the other team scores, especially a crucial goal, it really makes the goalie feel lower than worm turds when you slam your stick on the boards/glass in frustration. Yeah, we know we screwed up. The puck's in the net, glaring at us like a giant accusation. We don't slam our sticks if you miss a wide open net or lose the puck on a breakaway. So even if it's only in frustration at yourself, knock it off, ok?

The format for this tournament was a five minute, 4 on 4 overtime, followed by a 5-person shootout if necessary. We didn't make it that far. We took a penalty about a minute into the overtime, and they scored with someone camped out all alone on the back door. I had twisted around to try to grab a piece of it, and after it went in I just flopped forward onto my stomach. Worst. Feeling. Ever.

Fortunately the tournament didn't end completely on that note. We had time for a nice relaxing lunch at the outdoor tables of the rink pub, and then headed in to watch the D division championship game. It's unusual for people to stick around on a Sunday afternoon once their game is over. But this one was different: it was Quarry Cats vs Quarry Cats. It was fun and bizarre all at the same time. (In fact, both teams came out in their away jerseys for warm-ups. The home team changed into their whites for the game, but that was pretty funny.) I'm just glad I didn't have to play. I hate playing against my teammates, as is well documented here. With less than a minute to go, we moved from the stands to the door in the boards, and joined the on-ice festivities. The "white" team won, but after they were presented with the trophy someone started handing out all the extra black jerseys to those of us from the stands. All three teams mashed together for the official tournament picture. It's awesome. One giant mass of happy Cats. I love us.

Go Goalie, Go

Three and a half months ago, after a bitter bitter loss in the league playoffs, I found UGT 3.0 VIP and signed up, vowing to do everything within my power not to feel like that ever again. My track record with workout programs for the year prior to that wasn't the best- I'd start out with great intentions and a week later I'd find all kinds of excuses and reasons not to get my butt out of bed and into the gym. But this program seemed different. There were interactive elements to it that I thought would help with not only my motivation, but my accountability. The way I felt about this program was similar to the way I felt when I first started playing goal: I was absolutely, positively determined not to sabotage myself. And it's been very difficult at times, but it's paying off. I can feel a big difference on the ice, and quite honestly off it as well. I'm about 3-4 weeks behind the rest of the group that started at the same time as me, but I've had a tournament each month since starting that I've had to work around. I just completed Phase 3 and am about to start Phase 4, when I get back from vacation and the upcoming tournament this weekend.

This program is designed for professionals. It's progressive, the workouts are long (60-90 minutes), basically, it's hard. There have been times when I've wondered if I'm being ridiculous, a late 30's beer leaguer with a full time job trying to keep up with (very much younger) guys who have nothing to do but train all day and be in great shape for training camp. At one point I even emailed Maria, asking how I'd know if the program was just too hard for me. She said it's only too hard if you don't make the time for it and keep your commitment to it. Well, ok then. That little flame of self-doubt squelched, I banked on my competitiveness and pushed on. When I did the final workout in Phase 3 I felt triumphant. As I tweeted, I really thought that phase would be the death of me. I was really dragging, and in desperate need of some recovery days. Fortunately, that's when my vacation started. It's been several days of complete sluggy bliss, lounging about on the beach, reading, just being flat out lazy. Imagine my surprise when, in the midst of my best impression of a slug, I got an email from Maria informing me that she had chosen me as this month's "All Star".  I was flabbergasted. Of the hundreds of athletes she trains, and of those God knows how many are pros, she chose me??? I read the email out loud to my husband and brother-in-law (who happened to be sitting right there). I told my sister and my cousin. I may have squealed a little.

This morning was the end of my recovery period. I had a body-weight workout all ready to go, my clothes laid out to jump right into and get going. When I rolled over to shut off the alarm on my clock I saw it - the email going out to everyone, with the article about... me! Tough to beat that for motivation. I was out there on the porch, facing the water, kicking my own ass. I'll be at it again Friday morning, too. I have a tournament to play in this weekend, and I'm playing in the highest division. Behind 8 skaters. I'm going to need all the help I can get. Go goalie, go.