...and I belch, too

I had a kick-ass game at open hockey today. I mean, I was in the zone. I was so in the zone that The Goaliebrain talked to me. It's been a while since I've heard from her. (Him? It? Does it matter?) See, I do my best to keep my regular brain busy/sedated while I play. If it wakes up it starts causing trouble. Either it over-analyzes what's going on, starts in with the negative self-talk, or just wanders off to places that have nothing whatsoever to do with the game and are just distracting. Like how you'd spell "Gretzky" in Cyrillic. I shit you not, that's what I was thinking about for a few minutes today when I was distracted. (In case you're curious, it would be: грэцки)

I use music/repetitive lyrics to lull my regular brain into sedation. It's during these times that The Goaliebrain talks to me. Most of the time she tells the muscles what to do without me hearing her. But today she was like a little drill sergeant in my head. I love it when that happens. It means I know what I'm doing. I had an opposing player a few feet in front of me (out of poke check range, but pretty close) all alone with the puck. I don't remember the exact play that lead up to that but I think he got it from a pass, because I just got into position in front of him as he received the puck. Goaliebrain barked at me "Blocking butterfly! There's no time!" Boom. Down I went into a nice tight butterfly and the shot bounced harmlessly off me and I smothered it. It's different than thinking. I didn't think "Ok, I don't have enough time to read the shot off the stick and he's real close in, so a blocking butterfly would be best here". Its like it came from somewhere else, but still inside me- instant knowledge.

So, I was really rolling. (There was a brief period where I did my best impression of a sieve and no its wasn't when I was spelling Gretzky's name in my head). Apparently I impressed one particular defenseman. He was quite the chatterbox. At one point one of his buddies on the opposing team semi-whiffed a shot and I stopped it easily. He said to me, loud enough for his buddy to hear "Tell him that the girls in your women's league have better shots than that." To which I responded, with mock (mostly) testiness; "I don't play on the women's league."

After that we had a few other short and friendly exchanges. It was after I gave esteemed reader and commenter "#48" a few good shoves from behind for being in my crease, that this guy came over, cleared him out, and then turned to me and told me I was a hockey player's dream woman, being out there and hustling like that.

D-man: Do you drink beer too?

Me: Hell yeah.

D-man: Damn. If I get divorced will you marry me?

Me: I'm already married.

D-man: Ok. If we both get divorced will you marry me?

I figure, sure.... if he can put up with The Goaliebrain.