Nostalgia, numb feet, and broken glass.

The town roller rink where I first made my fledgling attempts at stopping pucks floods one of the rinks in the winter and lets it freeze over, for some good old-time pond hockey. Since its been about two years since I played out there, when talk started last week about gathering a group for our very own "winter classic" this past weekend, I figured what the heck, I'll give it a go.

Then I looked at the forecast. Ouch. But having already given my word that I would be one of the two goalies I could hardly back out. Besides, the chance to play against and with some of the guys I haven't seen in a long time was too good to pass up. I steeled myself for some bitter cold and decided to suck it up and have a good time. (Ok, so it wasn't "bitter cold" by lets say.... Minnesota standards. But 15*F in the sun is a tad bit nip). It actually wasn't too bad once I got moving out there. Pretty soon the feeling came back into my fingertips and I was having fun stopping pucks fired from old acquaintances. As the afternoon wore on, more people stopped by the rink for whatever game they could jump in on, and we had quite a lot of players. After two hours of playing, I could no longer feel my feet, and a tweak of pain in my problem hip had me concerned, so I packed it in.

Although I had fun being out there and playing hockey, especially playing with GoalieHusband again, after a long recuperation from knee surgery, ultimately the experience wasn't as great as I remembered it. I chalk that up to being totally spoiled by indoor rinks and their new-fangled climate control, and things like nets that stay in one place, and lines and circles as reference points, and boards that don't have 2 feet of snow piled up along them. There's also a lot less danger to your car in an indoor rink parking lot. Apparently, when we were all warming up (literally and figuratively), a puck went off the crossbar of the net closest to the parking lot and took a weird carom up and over the protective fencing and landed on my windshield. Fortunately it didn't go through the glass, but probably due to the extreme cold, my windshield is now covered in a giant spiral crack with a puck-sized piece of untouched glass in the middle. Untouched, that is, except for a black puck mark. It's actually kind of on the amusing side.

What's not amusing though is the fact that I have to have it replaced. The guy who shot the puck came right over and told me about it, and insisted on paying for it, but I feel bad taking his money considering I parked right in the first row of spaces, and I know from experience playing roller that pucks sometimes go over that fence. So I have an appointment for a mobile glass place to come replace it tomorrow, since I don't feel comfortable driving it in that condition. (I drove it home from the rink, but the cracking and popping sound of the glass as the crack spread further was quite unsettling). Which is really too bad, because while talking to a mutual hockey friend I discovered that my coach (of all people!) used to own an auto glass place in a nearby town, and replacing a windshield would be a breeze for him. How hysterical would it be if I showed up at his place with my puck-shaped disaster of a windshield and said "Hey... I heard you know how to fix this."

Of course, I'd be opening myself up for a comeback something like "well it'll be a heck of a lot easier than fixing your glove hand"... so it's probably all for the best that I won't be doing that.