Fighting MS in Vermont - Part 2

After our 2-1 win and visit to the ice cream Mecca, we gathered again for our second game of the day. The sign in sheet had us listed as "away", and I distinctly remember asking the girl at the desk "That means we're dark, right?" She confirmed. Then I saw the name of the team we were playing. I'm not the only one who noticed it. Several other people in the locker room commented on it, and quipped that we might want to give the refs a heads-up, since this team apparently likes to body check them. Pants relayed some commentary she overheard while walking through the parking lot. Oh boy, we thought, here we go again.

And then we walked out of the locker room, in our dark jerseys, and the ref was standing there telling us to go back in and change, because the other team only had dark. Ok... this wasn't something they could come and tell us BEFORE we all got dressed? I mean, if you're a team with only one jersey, fine, I get it, but wouldn't you check with the other team in order to avoid a giant clusterfuck? It has definitely happened before, in fact it happened in our first game. They only had powder blue and asked what color we were, to make sure it wouldn't be confusing. Not exactly the most difficult concept in the world. 

So, we were a little miffed at being told just before getting on the ice, to go back and change. Then someone said "What about our socks? Do we have to change those too?" Everyone looked at me. They all know that, given the choice, I'd rather have all dark or all light socks in front of me, and all socks of the opposite side of the spectrum on the other. It's not a huge deal, but it definitely makes a difference. When you're primarily looking down, especially if you're down on the ice already, what you see are socks. When you see socks of one color or the other you know if it's a teammate or not. Is it a huge deal? No. Have I played a million games of open hockey and beer league games where everyone's socks are all different colors? Yes. But in this league, everyone's jerseys and socks tend to match, so that is what I am used to. However, I wasn't about to make a big deal out of it. With all of them looking at me expectantly, I kind of shrugged. I know changing your socks is an enormous pain in the ass, and I didn't feel like I wanted to ask that of everyone. The decision however, was taken out of my hands. Someone spoke up and told the refs to tell them if they want us to change, they have to wait for us to change our socks too. As we were in the locker room changing, a tournament person came in and said they were wearing light socks. The Captain made a split second decision and told everyone to put their socks in a pile - the other team could wear them. 

Looking back, it's a little silly. But clearly it was more gamesmanship than anything else. The Captain explained to the tournament rep that we have a history with this team, and told her about the game where one of their players checked a ref. She explained that if they were going to wait and then make us change, they could change too. By now, I was feeling like an idiot, because no less than three players had sliced their fingers open trying to get their socks off over their skates, one of them pretty badly. But I wasn't the one who had made the decision. Anyway, back out we went, onto the ice. I had just stepped onto the ice from the bench when I turned around and saw one of the opponents standing on our bench, addressing the few of us that were there. 

"I don't understand, what's the reason we all had to change our socks?" she asked. Someone explained that our goalie wants us to all have the same socks. We thought she honestly had come over to ask, so we answered. But the next few things she said made it clear she was there purely to give us a hard time. She started giving us an attitude about the socks. I asked her what took them so long to tell us about the dark jerseys. She huffed and said "We don't know you! We don't know what kind of jerseys you have!" I asked her if it was really that hard to ask. A couple people started talking at once, and one player told her to leave. She then demanded  in a very pissy voice "Where's your goalie?" I'd been standing no more than two feet in front of her, talking to her the entire time, so I opened my arms wide and said "Uhhhh, right here." She said something again about the socks and I, like an idiot, tried to explain. She said, as she turned to leave "Well then you should be a better fucking goalie". Since I never have been the queen of the comeback, I very wittily told her to go fuck herself. 

Were we a little obnoxious about the socks? Yeah, I can admit that now. But not without reason. Did they have to send someone over to our bench before the game to bitch us out? Well, I guess we shouldn't have been surprised. Initially, I was really steamed, but I took a few breaths and told myself not to let it get to me, and concentrated on kicking some ass. Imagine my delight when the final buzzer went off and I had stopped every single one of their shots. I couldn't stop thinking "Clearly I need to be a better goalie. I just shut you bitches out". Unfortunately in the handshake line I couldn't identify the one who'd come over to spout off at us. We didn't win- it was a 0-0 tie, but we still shut them down just the same. I've never had a shutout feel sweeter. 

Our Sunday morning game turned out to be the championship game. The way the tournament was organized, in our division, there was no actual "championship game". The winner was to be decided on a basis of points. But by Sunday morning, it was clear that whoever won our game would win the tournament. And they were just a step faster than we were. We hung in there for most of the game, with the score tied at 2, but in the last few minutes they just really turned it on and we ended up losing 4-2. I didn't even beat myself up over it though- I know I played damn well. We all did. We were just slightly outmatched.

All bullcrap aside, it was a great tournament, and we had a great time. I haven't even written about the fantastic awesomeness that was the Beer Festival... but really what is there to say except that I tried A LOT of beers and even loved some of them, but as luck would have it, I misplaced the program where I made all my notes. I'm actually kind of peeved about that. Anyone on the team will tell you I'm a huge beer aficionado (ok, snob) and I was very much looking forward to trying a lot of quality beers I'd never had. I can tell you though, that my favorite by far was Heady Topper. I was in that line no less than three times. And it was a pretty long line.

Right now I'm on vacation, but we are back on the ice fighting the good fight this coming weekend - this time in Bethlehem, PA. And this time, we're bringing THREE teams. Heads up, bitches. Here come the Quarry Cats.