I think Senator said it best when, the morning after our final Hawks game, he tweeted: "Closure is nice. It provides an opportunity to fully put a thing behind you instead of simply talking about it." He and "Cap" are the other two players who are making the move to the instructional league. It's something all three of us have been considering for a long time (as you know) and I think is really long overdue. So although it's sad to leave such a fantastic group of guys, I know at least for me this is the right decision. And it couldn't have been more completely confirmed than it was with our last game.
I knew it was going to be pretty bad, but I didn't really expect it to be as bad as it was. We lost 11-3, to a team we know from experience is sorely lacking in class. Individually, there are a few guys on that team who aren't too bad, but as a whole, I can't say enough how glad I am to have put that shit behind me. I personally did not have a very good game, but the whole feel of the experience was like a giant F U. The first period, they played possum and we went up 2-0. Then they "woke up" and put the full press on. By the third period we were down oh, I don't know, something like 8-3, and for the final 5 minutes or so they played as if their lives were on the line, just to rub in in our faces. I'm not really sure how necessary it is to set up 4 guys in front of the net when you're up by a score like that, but hey if that's what gets your rocks off, I'm glad I'm gone. They even made a big show of stopping to have a chat with friends on the glass, mid-game, and shooting the puck up at the ceiling to see if they could hit the lights.
I shouldn't be surprised. This is the team that had a big brawl amongst themselves in the final minute of a game in which we actually beat them. Classless to the end. And for that reason, I declined to go through the handshake line. When the other team is putting on a display like that, and actually laughing at your team on the ice, the completely farcical handshake at the end is insult to injury. I've gone through that line after some really chippy games, but that's hockey. This was just flat out mockery, and I had no desire to pretend to show respect.
I couldn't be happier to have that chapter behind me. I'm very much looking forward to the AIL season, and believe me, I'm not going in there thinking it's going to be a piece of cake. But some even competition would be a welcome change instead of the weekly shellacking I was taking in the "D" league. (Which continues to be a source of wry amusement for me. If that's a "D" league, I'm Patrick fucking Roy.) All I can say about that league is: good riddance. I'm sure there are plenty of guys in AIL who don't belong there either, but when the general level is more matched to your own, the few people who stand out aren't as much of an issue as when the general level is over your head to begin with. I'm sure I'll have nights when I come home grumbling and pissed off, but at least I'll have a chance here. A chance for it to be fun again. Because it hasn't been, not for a very long time.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Church of Hockey
"Back in the day", when we used to play roller hockey outside on an asphalt rink, we played a few times a week. But our biggest turnout and usually best games were always Sunday mornings. It was always kind of a thrill to arrive there, grumbling and sleepy-eyed, and gradually wake up as you put your gear on, sitting next to someone on the bench just as foggy and cranky as you were. And as more and more folks showed up, you'd start waking up a little bit, dicking around on the rink until most of the group was assembled... and by the end of it all, you'd played balls-out for a solid three hours. I have great memories of those days. (I'm a spoiled brat now and wouldn't go back, but it's fun to reminisce). A lot of us jokingly said those Sunday morning games were our "church". And on the rare days when it was neither too hot nor too cold, it certainly did feel divine.
Now, I still get to the rink grumbling and sleepy-eyed, but that's because our games are as late as 11:20pm. I don't know how they swing it, but the QCats manage to get some pretty prime ice times, Sunday evenings being the most common game time. This season we had a surprise Sunday morning game though, and it made me think of that year or so when Sunday morning was unquestionably devoted to hockey. And here I was, years later, with a different group in a different place, joking again about hockey being our religion. We played a team that our interaction with seems to be on the chippier side. That's putting it mildly, I guess, considering last time we played them, "Pants" flat out body-slammed a chick for two-handing her to the head. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on what you like), there were no such incidents in this game. It was a decently paced, evenly matched game that we mostly played very well in. I say mostly, because after the second period we were up 2-0. We went into the third knowing they were going to come really hard at us, and we had about a minute and a half's worth of collective brain fart and there we were, tied. That really ticked me off, because both goals against were pretty garbage-y. I'm not sure what the deal is with that but most of my goals against on that team have been cruddy garbage goals or bad bounces. I guess I have to be more aware of my movements or where the puck is. But everything I saw, I stopped. I was feeling really good, and I even counted shots (33). Once again Gionta182 wrangled a 5 minute OT period out of the refs, but we weren't as lucky this time. We were still tied at the end of it.
I was actually surprised that we ended up with the OT, since it's pretty much at the ref's discretion (what's up with that?), and I had kind of uncharacteristically mouthed off at one of them earlier in the third period. There was an offside whistle, and everyone else stopped, but the player with the puck continued into the zone, looked right at me, and shot. Now, I know sometimes that happens at the same time as a whistle, I know sometimes it's not intentional. But that was pretty blatant. She turned to skate away and I charged after her, yelling. She completely ignored me, and I was aware of the fact that I was nearing the blue line and the ref was in the vicinity so I figured I should cool my jets. (Hkygrl12, who is coaching this season, later told me she was really nervous because she's never seen me get mad before and thought it was going to be "Tuukka milkcrate time". I did notice that she looked a little wide-eyed to see me that close to the bench. Haha.) On my way back to the net I yelled to the ref "No call on that?" He said no and I blurted out "That's bullshit". Generally I don't do this. I may think it, but I don't give refs any lip. He replied "Come on now, let's keep it friendly" or something like that, and I just shut my mouth and focused on the faceoff. But that really ticked me off. That's blatant disrespect right there on her part. It's ok though, because I've got her number. She's a smallish forward, she'll be in my crease again. Oops! Did my stick get in your way? SORRY.
Now, I still get to the rink grumbling and sleepy-eyed, but that's because our games are as late as 11:20pm. I don't know how they swing it, but the QCats manage to get some pretty prime ice times, Sunday evenings being the most common game time. This season we had a surprise Sunday morning game though, and it made me think of that year or so when Sunday morning was unquestionably devoted to hockey. And here I was, years later, with a different group in a different place, joking again about hockey being our religion. We played a team that our interaction with seems to be on the chippier side. That's putting it mildly, I guess, considering last time we played them, "Pants" flat out body-slammed a chick for two-handing her to the head. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on what you like), there were no such incidents in this game. It was a decently paced, evenly matched game that we mostly played very well in. I say mostly, because after the second period we were up 2-0. We went into the third knowing they were going to come really hard at us, and we had about a minute and a half's worth of collective brain fart and there we were, tied. That really ticked me off, because both goals against were pretty garbage-y. I'm not sure what the deal is with that but most of my goals against on that team have been cruddy garbage goals or bad bounces. I guess I have to be more aware of my movements or where the puck is. But everything I saw, I stopped. I was feeling really good, and I even counted shots (33). Once again Gionta182 wrangled a 5 minute OT period out of the refs, but we weren't as lucky this time. We were still tied at the end of it.
I was actually surprised that we ended up with the OT, since it's pretty much at the ref's discretion (what's up with that?), and I had kind of uncharacteristically mouthed off at one of them earlier in the third period. There was an offside whistle, and everyone else stopped, but the player with the puck continued into the zone, looked right at me, and shot. Now, I know sometimes that happens at the same time as a whistle, I know sometimes it's not intentional. But that was pretty blatant. She turned to skate away and I charged after her, yelling. She completely ignored me, and I was aware of the fact that I was nearing the blue line and the ref was in the vicinity so I figured I should cool my jets. (Hkygrl12, who is coaching this season, later told me she was really nervous because she's never seen me get mad before and thought it was going to be "Tuukka milkcrate time". I did notice that she looked a little wide-eyed to see me that close to the bench. Haha.) On my way back to the net I yelled to the ref "No call on that?" He said no and I blurted out "That's bullshit". Generally I don't do this. I may think it, but I don't give refs any lip. He replied "Come on now, let's keep it friendly" or something like that, and I just shut my mouth and focused on the faceoff. But that really ticked me off. That's blatant disrespect right there on her part. It's ok though, because I've got her number. She's a smallish forward, she'll be in my crease again. Oops! Did my stick get in your way? SORRY.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Where to start?
I have to apologize (yet again) for pulling a disappearing act. Can I blame the 5 days without heat or power? That was one factor, sure, but that only happened a week and a half ago. I just haven't felt much like writing in here when all there is to say is to rehash the same old thing about the league the Hawks are in. It's also been a bit of a rocky road for yours truly, for the last month or so. It's never fun to admit weakness but I have some mental issues that I deal with and although they're normally well corralled, certain things in "real life" tend to bring them out. And that's when I go into hiding.
But things are looking up now. I've had a few games with the Hawks, all with the same result, so there isn't really much to say on that front, but that will be changing soon. The Cats had their first game back in mid-October, and then were back to practice only until this past weekend. And what a weekend it was. I looked forward for weeks to this weekend, it being a double-header on Sunday. The first game was a Cats matinee (ok, 5pm, but that feels like a matinee to me. Hell that feels like a morning game to me).
I was so ramped up to play that I pestered and pestered GoalieHusband and we arrived at the rink a good 2 hours before game time. It was ok though, because the C team had played earlier, and I knew we'd be able to hang with them until it was time to suit up. We spent a little while outside with the grill, potato chips, and beer (no beer for me though, I was sipping a pre-game coffee), and then it was time to get ready. I brought my stuff into the locker room and discovered, much to my dismay, that there was a bag already in there. In my spot.
I'm not a neurotic goalie. I don't get too kooky over many things, but one thing I am pretty anal about is my spot. I started sitting there because it has the most room, and let's face it, I have the most shit. But now it's just sort of... a given. I even went to the first practice of the season a little early, because I knew we had some new players and I wanted to make sure I had my spot before they got there. I wandered back outside, agitated, and told GoalieHusband and Flipper (who had just arrived) "There's someone in my spot". I think I said it a few times. Honestly, if the person had been there, I would have just asked if they minded moving over, that it's a goalie thing and I'm anal about my spot, but no one was there and it threw me off. #RainMan Flipper went in and took care of it I guess, because after I got back in there, my spot was nice and empty.
It didn't throw my game off though. I had that surging, strong, balls-out feeling that I sometimes get when I'm really in the zone. I felt like I could feel every muscle fiber firing. I was so in the zone that when we gathered at the bench between periods and GoalieHusband gave his pep talk and observations, and then turned to me and said "Goalie. What do you see?" I completely froze. Everyone was looking at me expectantly. And I did have something I wanted to say. But all I saw was eyes. Shit, shit, they're waiting for you to say something. "Umm... I did have something to say but I forgot it", I admitted. Fortunately only a few seconds of laughter passed before I remembered I wanted to warn them about the cherry picker the other team had been placing on the blue line.
The game itself was a very exciting one, for the spectators anyway. And we had quite a few of those. My parents were there, as was a friend of mine with her husband and three kids. For me, though, the only thing that saved me from a batch of healthy self-goalie-hatred was an overtime goal by the one and only "Pants". We went up early, but the other team came back. We managed to hold them at 4-3 until the last minute of the period, when they, naturally, pulled their goalie. With 11 seconds left (ELEVEN FREAKIN SECONDS), they had a shot that I'm 99% sure was going wide, but in my puffed-up over-confidence I went out to play it, and it took a bizarre bounce over my pad and into the net.
I was seriously pissed. I'm not sure how she did it but gionta182 convinced the refs that we were supposed to get an OT period, and although the girls were totally gassed, we pressed and pressed (and I made a few saves), and about 2 minutes into it we scored. Out of respect for the other goalie, I don't cheer when we score. But I cheered for that goal. What a relief. So now we are 1-0-1 (W-L-T) on the young season. And not only that, but we may have gained two converts. Two of my friend's kids, who have been to one other game, now want to play hockey. *JOY*. One is a 10 yr old boy, the other is a 6 yr old girl. All I need to do is get that girl into goal, and the circle of hockey continues. ;)
An hour and a half (and a lot of potato chips and 1 beer) later, I was back on the ice again with the Hawks. With 15 minutes to go before our ice time, we only had a small number of skaters, so we went back outside and dragged hkygrl12 kicking and screaming (ha ha ha) into the locker room with us.
***maalivahti will be with you in a moment, there's a shootout on tv****
She wasn't the only guest; GoalieHusband was on the ice as well. It was great to play with both of them, with my team. I didn't have very high expectations of the game, and in fact I told a teammate "I just played at 5:00. I'm either going to be really good, or really bad".
Well, I guess it was the former. What's that, you say? Didn't you lose 9-3? Why, yes we did. However, the (very unofficial) shot count for the night was 75. That's what a guy from the other team estimated, and two teammates of mine independently came up with that number as well. I certainly don't disagree. I would have given a very conservative estimate of 60, but 75 doesn't sound out of the question. I have never been that exhausted in a game, ever. The only other times I've ever felt like that was after an ass-kicking with my private coach, or after 4 hours in the brutal summer sun back in the "outside on the asphalt" days. But I hung in there. I wish I could see some of those saves now, in retrospect, because I played most of that game in a fog. I do remember several saves that shocked not only me but the other team. I got countless "good save, keep" taps on the pads from them. (This is not to minimize the good words from my own team, but when it comes from the other team, you know they're not just pumping your tires, so to speak). In fact, after the handshake line, one of the other guys skated back around to find me, pointed at me, and said "MVP".
So, 75 shots. "Where was your D?" will be the first question in most people's minds. They were there, busting their asses just as much as I was. And we scored a power play goal, something I don't think we've done in about 3 seasons. All this to illustrate; we are playing at 110% every night and still getting killed, blasted out by 6-9 goals each game. It's time to face the facts. This is not the league for me. Am I a "D league" player? You bet your ass. Are the rest of the guys in this league? Not by a long shot. And after about three years of trying to rectify the situation with the rink, and nothing changing, I'm done. I'm going to the "AIL", where I'll actually have a chance at not getting blown out every single night, and a chance at it being fun again. A few teammates have made the same decision, so at least it won't be a complete dissolution of the team. And I suspect that when the others hear of our move, a few will do the same. By no means can the whole team make that move; it would be beyond unfair for about 5 of those guys to come to the AIL and I don't think they would.
So it's kind of an end of an era for the Hawks. I'm not sure how many of us will be together next season. It's sad, after all these years together, but enough is enough. I'm done with the hit my confidence is taking, with the long, self-loathing rides home from the rink. And knowing some of the guys will be right there with me makes it that much easier. Change can only come when the pain of not changing outweighs the pain of changing.
But things are looking up now. I've had a few games with the Hawks, all with the same result, so there isn't really much to say on that front, but that will be changing soon. The Cats had their first game back in mid-October, and then were back to practice only until this past weekend. And what a weekend it was. I looked forward for weeks to this weekend, it being a double-header on Sunday. The first game was a Cats matinee (ok, 5pm, but that feels like a matinee to me. Hell that feels like a morning game to me).
I was so ramped up to play that I pestered and pestered GoalieHusband and we arrived at the rink a good 2 hours before game time. It was ok though, because the C team had played earlier, and I knew we'd be able to hang with them until it was time to suit up. We spent a little while outside with the grill, potato chips, and beer (no beer for me though, I was sipping a pre-game coffee), and then it was time to get ready. I brought my stuff into the locker room and discovered, much to my dismay, that there was a bag already in there. In my spot.
I'm not a neurotic goalie. I don't get too kooky over many things, but one thing I am pretty anal about is my spot. I started sitting there because it has the most room, and let's face it, I have the most shit. But now it's just sort of... a given. I even went to the first practice of the season a little early, because I knew we had some new players and I wanted to make sure I had my spot before they got there. I wandered back outside, agitated, and told GoalieHusband and Flipper (who had just arrived) "There's someone in my spot". I think I said it a few times. Honestly, if the person had been there, I would have just asked if they minded moving over, that it's a goalie thing and I'm anal about my spot, but no one was there and it threw me off. #RainMan Flipper went in and took care of it I guess, because after I got back in there, my spot was nice and empty.
It didn't throw my game off though. I had that surging, strong, balls-out feeling that I sometimes get when I'm really in the zone. I felt like I could feel every muscle fiber firing. I was so in the zone that when we gathered at the bench between periods and GoalieHusband gave his pep talk and observations, and then turned to me and said "Goalie. What do you see?" I completely froze. Everyone was looking at me expectantly. And I did have something I wanted to say. But all I saw was eyes. Shit, shit, they're waiting for you to say something. "Umm... I did have something to say but I forgot it", I admitted. Fortunately only a few seconds of laughter passed before I remembered I wanted to warn them about the cherry picker the other team had been placing on the blue line.
The game itself was a very exciting one, for the spectators anyway. And we had quite a few of those. My parents were there, as was a friend of mine with her husband and three kids. For me, though, the only thing that saved me from a batch of healthy self-goalie-hatred was an overtime goal by the one and only "Pants". We went up early, but the other team came back. We managed to hold them at 4-3 until the last minute of the period, when they, naturally, pulled their goalie. With 11 seconds left (ELEVEN FREAKIN SECONDS), they had a shot that I'm 99% sure was going wide, but in my puffed-up over-confidence I went out to play it, and it took a bizarre bounce over my pad and into the net.
I was seriously pissed. I'm not sure how she did it but gionta182 convinced the refs that we were supposed to get an OT period, and although the girls were totally gassed, we pressed and pressed (and I made a few saves), and about 2 minutes into it we scored. Out of respect for the other goalie, I don't cheer when we score. But I cheered for that goal. What a relief. So now we are 1-0-1 (W-L-T) on the young season. And not only that, but we may have gained two converts. Two of my friend's kids, who have been to one other game, now want to play hockey. *JOY*. One is a 10 yr old boy, the other is a 6 yr old girl. All I need to do is get that girl into goal, and the circle of hockey continues. ;)
An hour and a half (and a lot of potato chips and 1 beer) later, I was back on the ice again with the Hawks. With 15 minutes to go before our ice time, we only had a small number of skaters, so we went back outside and dragged hkygrl12 kicking and screaming (ha ha ha) into the locker room with us.
***maalivahti will be with you in a moment, there's a shootout on tv****
She wasn't the only guest; GoalieHusband was on the ice as well. It was great to play with both of them, with my team. I didn't have very high expectations of the game, and in fact I told a teammate "I just played at 5:00. I'm either going to be really good, or really bad".
Well, I guess it was the former. What's that, you say? Didn't you lose 9-3? Why, yes we did. However, the (very unofficial) shot count for the night was 75. That's what a guy from the other team estimated, and two teammates of mine independently came up with that number as well. I certainly don't disagree. I would have given a very conservative estimate of 60, but 75 doesn't sound out of the question. I have never been that exhausted in a game, ever. The only other times I've ever felt like that was after an ass-kicking with my private coach, or after 4 hours in the brutal summer sun back in the "outside on the asphalt" days. But I hung in there. I wish I could see some of those saves now, in retrospect, because I played most of that game in a fog. I do remember several saves that shocked not only me but the other team. I got countless "good save, keep" taps on the pads from them. (This is not to minimize the good words from my own team, but when it comes from the other team, you know they're not just pumping your tires, so to speak). In fact, after the handshake line, one of the other guys skated back around to find me, pointed at me, and said "MVP".
So, 75 shots. "Where was your D?" will be the first question in most people's minds. They were there, busting their asses just as much as I was. And we scored a power play goal, something I don't think we've done in about 3 seasons. All this to illustrate; we are playing at 110% every night and still getting killed, blasted out by 6-9 goals each game. It's time to face the facts. This is not the league for me. Am I a "D league" player? You bet your ass. Are the rest of the guys in this league? Not by a long shot. And after about three years of trying to rectify the situation with the rink, and nothing changing, I'm done. I'm going to the "AIL", where I'll actually have a chance at not getting blown out every single night, and a chance at it being fun again. A few teammates have made the same decision, so at least it won't be a complete dissolution of the team. And I suspect that when the others hear of our move, a few will do the same. By no means can the whole team make that move; it would be beyond unfair for about 5 of those guys to come to the AIL and I don't think they would.
So it's kind of an end of an era for the Hawks. I'm not sure how many of us will be together next season. It's sad, after all these years together, but enough is enough. I'm done with the hit my confidence is taking, with the long, self-loathing rides home from the rink. And knowing some of the guys will be right there with me makes it that much easier. Change can only come when the pain of not changing outweighs the pain of changing.
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