I would have blogged about our third game on Saturday night, but I was spent. (And we were partying). It was incredibly intense. We scored first, but then they got two goals I beat myself up pretty badly about. It held at 2-1 for quite some time, well into the 3rd period. I was thinking to myself, we CAN NOT lose this game, we just CAN NOT. Play was mostly in the other end, but the two goals against came off breakouts by the same speedy little forward both times. But with 3 minutes left, we scored to tie it. And then with about a minute left, we had a breakaway of our own and scored for the win. The whooping and hollering sounded like a championship game itself, but the relief was immense. Those two goals put us into the final game, to be played at 9:50 Sunday morning. With that in mind, we enjoyed ourselves at the Saturday night league-hosted party, but kept our merriment to a compressed schedule. I'd say most of us were in bed by 11pm.
That's not to say there wasn't plenty of blog-worthy ridiculousness. All day I've been remembering things I wanted to blog about, but 4 hours behind the wheel aren't conducive to note-taking. The best story though, certainly can not be forgotten. There was a raffle of gift baskets as a fund raiser for the tournament and their selected cause (a local young girl with leukemia), and one of our players had put a copious amount of tickets into the "spice" undergarments basket. (It's a womens' line of hockey undergarments. These particular items were a sports bra and coordinating velcro shorts in a saucy red and black tiger print). Our player, we'll call her "M", was lucky enough to win the basket. Now, "M" and another player, "F", are both openly gay and can be quite graphic about their exploits. They're also two of the biggest horn dogs on the team. "G", a happily married heterosexual mother of two, who is just a little shy when it comes to hearing all their stories, got caught between them. M was holding her prize, and G got sandwiched between M and F, in slightly more than a friendly hug. The next thing you know, G is yelling "baseballs!!!! baseballs!!!" and M and F are literally rolling on the floor with laughter. Apparently, "baseballs" was G's 'safe word'.
At this point I had the following thoughts: "G has a safe word???? Wow, I am totally lame in comparison". And then "Wait.... G has a safe word and both M and F know it?!?!? Whoa..." Fortunately for my self-assessed coolness-factor, we found out the next day that G had said previously that she needed a safe word for when M and F start getting into "uncomfortable" territory. One of them told her "baseballs" would do. I know, it makes the story much less lurid, but it made me feel a little better.
This was revealed in the locker room as we prepared for our championship game. M was conspicuously absent for quite a while, and when she arrived, we understood why. Someone had been indulging in juuuust a tad too much Scotch the night before, it would seem. M was not in good shape. I guess she sweat it out of her system though, because she ended up having a good game. We all did... although I didn't really have to do much at all. I'm not positive of the shot total, but I'd be stunned if I had more than 12 or 15. We went up 2-0 very quickly, within the first 3 minutes or so. Their goalie seemed awfully shaky, and we took advantage of that. At the end of the first it was 3-0, and we scored another in the second. An empty net goal in the third sealed it, and we won by a score of 5-0.
We were pretty surprised. We'd been expecting a game similar to our first one; somewhat chippy, and pretty challenging. We hadn't faced this team previously in the tournament, as the final was the top team from each of two separate divisions. Given that our previous games were all quite close, we're confident we won't get boosted up to the next level based on that final game score alone. We played in that level last year, and scored one goal in all three games combined. So, while this game was a pretty easy one for me, I was happy to be playing on a Sunday morning, instead of packing up the hotel room in a leisurely fashion and lingering over the breakfast buffet.
Now I'm home, and I've uploaded the post-game celebration pictures to Facebook and basked in all the comments and "likes". I cooked GoalieHusband and I a nice dinner and we're watching the Ranger game on DVR. (No one spoil it please). What a fantastic weekend, and so sorely needed. We don't want it to end. But it's back to the office tomorrow, although I'll have a pretty damn good picture to put on my desktop monitor. And in four short weeks, it's time for the debauchery of Nationals down in Florida. Tournament season RULES!
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Witty Comebacks, and Women's Locker Rooms
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Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The lost post (as in blog post, not post-my-best-friend)
I wrote this a week ago but forgot to hit "publish". Woopsie.
If you've been a longtime reader, you know that I have always been a little shaky with handling the puck. (If you're new, well there you go, I just told you). I haven't mentioned it much in the last year or so, but it's something I've been making a concerted effort to work on. I got past the complete deer-in-headlights stage where I was petrified to even try because it would invariably end up in the net, and now I'm fairly confident and even have a clue what I'm going to do with the puck once it's on my stick. Last night I even passed to a teammate who was up near the blue line! Go me. However, as with all learning processes, there's always that time now and then where things don't go quite as planned. I guess I was feeling a little cocky after that pretty pass in the 2nd period, because in the 3rd I gave my entire bench a heart attack. In my defense, there was no one around for miles when I went out to get the puck as it came into our zone on a power play. I was all "oh, no big deal, I'll just mosey out here and get it, and-" OMG WHY IS GOALIEHUSBAND SCREAMING "MAN ON!!"???!
A forechecker had come flying out of nowhere and the puck squirted out into the slot. Both of us raced for it, and I swear it was one of those slow-motion moments, in which I got to the puck a fraction of a second before he did through nothing more than sheer force of will. I was even gritting my teeth and maybe even growling a little. I went flying on my belly as I poked it and somehow he ended up on the ice too, crashing into me. All I cared about was the puck was off in the corner, far away from any green-clad players. As I got up and retreated to my crease, he skated by and said "Sorry man," then did a double-take and said "uh... girl?" Ha. Dude, if I'm going to be offended by being called "man", I think I'm in the wrong sport. Funny thing is, that's the second time that happened in that game. The first time was after a Mack truck barreled into my head while I was crouched over a puck to freeze it. I was in a little less of a good humor at that point though.
What really made my night though, was hearing about something that was said to a teammate. After a very frustrating game, which we lost 2-1 despite the fact that we actually scored 3 goals, a good number of us hung out on a glorious spring evening for a beverage or two. Hkygrl12 told me that a fellow teammate had been at clinic a few days before, and someone from another team in the league was there as well. That person stopped him and asked him "What have you been feeding your goalie??" I didn't get it at first. But then Hkygr12 explained that the goalie they'd had the season before was also female, but I guess made less saves. (Trying to be diplomatic. You know me and how much I love to toot my own horn.) This person apparently thought it was the same goalie, but much improved. (I'm cringing even writing this, feeling bad for the other goalie, who hopefully will never read this). I'm not going to lie, hearing that really made me feel good.
If you've been a longtime reader, you know that I have always been a little shaky with handling the puck. (If you're new, well there you go, I just told you). I haven't mentioned it much in the last year or so, but it's something I've been making a concerted effort to work on. I got past the complete deer-in-headlights stage where I was petrified to even try because it would invariably end up in the net, and now I'm fairly confident and even have a clue what I'm going to do with the puck once it's on my stick. Last night I even passed to a teammate who was up near the blue line! Go me. However, as with all learning processes, there's always that time now and then where things don't go quite as planned. I guess I was feeling a little cocky after that pretty pass in the 2nd period, because in the 3rd I gave my entire bench a heart attack. In my defense, there was no one around for miles when I went out to get the puck as it came into our zone on a power play. I was all "oh, no big deal, I'll just mosey out here and get it, and-" OMG WHY IS GOALIEHUSBAND SCREAMING "MAN ON!!"???!
A forechecker had come flying out of nowhere and the puck squirted out into the slot. Both of us raced for it, and I swear it was one of those slow-motion moments, in which I got to the puck a fraction of a second before he did through nothing more than sheer force of will. I was even gritting my teeth and maybe even growling a little. I went flying on my belly as I poked it and somehow he ended up on the ice too, crashing into me. All I cared about was the puck was off in the corner, far away from any green-clad players. As I got up and retreated to my crease, he skated by and said "Sorry man," then did a double-take and said "uh... girl?" Ha. Dude, if I'm going to be offended by being called "man", I think I'm in the wrong sport. Funny thing is, that's the second time that happened in that game. The first time was after a Mack truck barreled into my head while I was crouched over a puck to freeze it. I was in a little less of a good humor at that point though.
What really made my night though, was hearing about something that was said to a teammate. After a very frustrating game, which we lost 2-1 despite the fact that we actually scored 3 goals, a good number of us hung out on a glorious spring evening for a beverage or two. Hkygrl12 told me that a fellow teammate had been at clinic a few days before, and someone from another team in the league was there as well. That person stopped him and asked him "What have you been feeding your goalie??" I didn't get it at first. But then Hkygr12 explained that the goalie they'd had the season before was also female, but I guess made less saves. (Trying to be diplomatic. You know me and how much I love to toot my own horn.) This person apparently thought it was the same goalie, but much improved. (I'm cringing even writing this, feeling bad for the other goalie, who hopefully will never read this). I'm not going to lie, hearing that really made me feel good.
Monday, December 5, 2011
A little inspiration?
The one thing about not having Hawks games now is that my playing time has been cut in half. I'm not too thrilled about that, but that will change once the new season starts up for AIL. So I was pretty happy to be able to pick up an extra game last night, and it turned out to be a really great one. The Westchester C team had an ice slot to fill and asked our C team to play, but they already had a game on the schedule. I'm not sure how it all came about because I wasn't involved, but what ended up happening was that we cobbled together a team of D players and a few C players, some from previous years who aren't on this year's roster, and some die-hards who hopped into the car, fully dressed, after their game and zipped to the rink for a second round of hockey.
I was fully expecting to get my ass kicked, as was my buddy the Mayor, but I shouldn't have worried. We played a really solid game, and it was tons of fun. AND we won! Our rag-tag combination team beat their C team! We won 4-3, and I feel I had a pretty good game. All three goals were mistakes on my part, but fortunately they were forgiven by the goals on the other end. (Two of them, I was too deep in the crease and would have had if I was out a little farther. The other was a misguided poke-check. I thought I was making the right play, but it bounced from the girl I poked it away from right to another girl waiting at the top of the slot. Stupid.) Also fortunately, I redeemed myself with lots of really good saves, including one rather nifty glove save through a partial screen with less than a minute to go, to keep the lead intact. So what was the secret to my good game? I'm pretty sure the increasingly giddy and ridiculous conversation I had with hkygrl12 as we were getting suited up had a lot to do with it.
As I think I've mentioned before, hkygrl12 used to play for the C team but this year is coaching us. She joined us on the ice last night though, as part of the combination team we put together for the game. We sat across from each other in the locker room, and when she proudly showed me her new Bruins t-shirt, I remembered that GoalieHusband and I are going to a Devils/Bruins game next month, and mentioned it. What a coincidence, she's going to the same game. "You know," she said, "I know where the players come out after the game. We can hang out and wait and you can get Tuukka's autograph."
I may have spazzed out slightly, (may have?) and immediately started wondering aloud what in the world I could say to him that wasn't boring and didn't make me sound like a complete tool. "I should say something in Finnish," I said, "but what?"
Hkygrl12: Find out how to say 'milk crate' in Finnish!
Me (giggling): Yeah!!! And I'll just yell it at him.
Hkygrl12: Or you could draw one on yourself and ask him to sign it!
Me: Omg. I'll just bring one with me!!! That would be hilarious!
And so on, our ideas getting sillier and our peals of laughter getting louder. I'm quite sure the other players around us thought we were nuts. One of them even said "hey go easy on the goalie, don't kill her before the game". No worries, I had Tuukka-power on my side. I'm going to have to get that giddy before every game, apparently.
Now, to figure out how to get a milk crate into the Rock....
I was fully expecting to get my ass kicked, as was my buddy the Mayor, but I shouldn't have worried. We played a really solid game, and it was tons of fun. AND we won! Our rag-tag combination team beat their C team! We won 4-3, and I feel I had a pretty good game. All three goals were mistakes on my part, but fortunately they were forgiven by the goals on the other end. (Two of them, I was too deep in the crease and would have had if I was out a little farther. The other was a misguided poke-check. I thought I was making the right play, but it bounced from the girl I poked it away from right to another girl waiting at the top of the slot. Stupid.) Also fortunately, I redeemed myself with lots of really good saves, including one rather nifty glove save through a partial screen with less than a minute to go, to keep the lead intact. So what was the secret to my good game? I'm pretty sure the increasingly giddy and ridiculous conversation I had with hkygrl12 as we were getting suited up had a lot to do with it.
As I think I've mentioned before, hkygrl12 used to play for the C team but this year is coaching us. She joined us on the ice last night though, as part of the combination team we put together for the game. We sat across from each other in the locker room, and when she proudly showed me her new Bruins t-shirt, I remembered that GoalieHusband and I are going to a Devils/Bruins game next month, and mentioned it. What a coincidence, she's going to the same game. "You know," she said, "I know where the players come out after the game. We can hang out and wait and you can get Tuukka's autograph."
I may have spazzed out slightly, (may have?) and immediately started wondering aloud what in the world I could say to him that wasn't boring and didn't make me sound like a complete tool. "I should say something in Finnish," I said, "but what?"
Hkygrl12: Find out how to say 'milk crate' in Finnish!
Me (giggling): Yeah!!! And I'll just yell it at him.
Hkygrl12: Or you could draw one on yourself and ask him to sign it!
Me: Omg. I'll just bring one with me!!! That would be hilarious!
And so on, our ideas getting sillier and our peals of laughter getting louder. I'm quite sure the other players around us thought we were nuts. One of them even said "hey go easy on the goalie, don't kill her before the game". No worries, I had Tuukka-power on my side. I'm going to have to get that giddy before every game, apparently.
Now, to figure out how to get a milk crate into the Rock....
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
New Game
Well folks, since there are only so many ways I can say "we played hard but we lost", I'm going to skip the recap of the latest Hawks game. Instead, we'll play a new game. It's called "New Guy In The Locker Room Bullshit Meter".
As is usual lately, we had quite the short bench, so we had to call in reinforcements where we could. There was a guy who subbed in our last game (and scored a nice deflection goal), and two other guys. One of these guys totally rubbed me the wrong way. When I walked in and introduced myself, he told me he knew me from open hockey. I wondered to myself if it was a game I'd played well in, or one I'd stunk to high heaven. Later I realized it was the latter.
He and the other sub were talking a blue streak about a league in another rink and how disorganized it was, and how uneven the competition can be (sound familiar?), and from the sounds of it, they both played there, but not on the same teams. One guy said that Mats Zucarello had been playing in the lowest level league and only recently had been "found out".
WHHOOOOOPPPSSS there goes my bullshit meter.
Folks, we are one step above "instructional" level. There is no way on this polluted stinking planet that The Hobbit was playing in a league equivalent to ours. And, further cementing his gold standard tool status, this guy went on to sing the praises of a dude who played with us for one season, who is mostly remembered for his 20 minute locker room soliloquy about his Way Awesome Car that was so much cooler than all of ours.
And from what I heard, he was none too gracious on the bench, either. I'm sure he had plenty to say about my couple of deer-in-headlights, didn't-even-flinch goals against, and that's fine. That's the first game I've ever played where I wasn't sure if I was going to puke or pass out first, for pretty much the entire game. And that's after a weekend of relaxation. I'm not sure what was going on there, I haven't ever felt like that, not even in a tournament. We have over a week to rest before our next game. One of our regulars who has missed all the games so far will be back. Hopefully we can put together at least a close game, if not a win.
In the mean time- QCats practice tomorrow night. I'm totally psyched for our first game, which isn't until the 16th, but until then: HOCKEY SEASON IS STARTING!!!!!!!!!! GoalieHousehold finally at long last has DVR. Ahhhhh.... no more missing games because of practices or games of my own. No more getting home, rushing to have dinner cooked by 7pm so we can be settled in front of the TV for our Rangers. This also means all the Law & Order SVU episodes I could ever want. Oh, the wonders of technology!
As is usual lately, we had quite the short bench, so we had to call in reinforcements where we could. There was a guy who subbed in our last game (and scored a nice deflection goal), and two other guys. One of these guys totally rubbed me the wrong way. When I walked in and introduced myself, he told me he knew me from open hockey. I wondered to myself if it was a game I'd played well in, or one I'd stunk to high heaven. Later I realized it was the latter.
He and the other sub were talking a blue streak about a league in another rink and how disorganized it was, and how uneven the competition can be (sound familiar?), and from the sounds of it, they both played there, but not on the same teams. One guy said that Mats Zucarello had been playing in the lowest level league and only recently had been "found out".
WHHOOOOOPPPSSS there goes my bullshit meter.
Folks, we are one step above "instructional" level. There is no way on this polluted stinking planet that The Hobbit was playing in a league equivalent to ours. And, further cementing his gold standard tool status, this guy went on to sing the praises of a dude who played with us for one season, who is mostly remembered for his 20 minute locker room soliloquy about his Way Awesome Car that was so much cooler than all of ours.
And from what I heard, he was none too gracious on the bench, either. I'm sure he had plenty to say about my couple of deer-in-headlights, didn't-even-flinch goals against, and that's fine. That's the first game I've ever played where I wasn't sure if I was going to puke or pass out first, for pretty much the entire game. And that's after a weekend of relaxation. I'm not sure what was going on there, I haven't ever felt like that, not even in a tournament. We have over a week to rest before our next game. One of our regulars who has missed all the games so far will be back. Hopefully we can put together at least a close game, if not a win.
In the mean time- QCats practice tomorrow night. I'm totally psyched for our first game, which isn't until the 16th, but until then: HOCKEY SEASON IS STARTING!!!!!!!!!! GoalieHousehold finally at long last has DVR. Ahhhhh.... no more missing games because of practices or games of my own. No more getting home, rushing to have dinner cooked by 7pm so we can be settled in front of the TV for our Rangers. This also means all the Law & Order SVU episodes I could ever want. Oh, the wonders of technology!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Conversations from GoalieHousehold
My birthday is coming up. I kind of hate saying it because I've never been one of those people to make a big deal about their birthday, but I just realized that I mentioned it in my last post, and it's central to the story I have no choice but to share here. My husband, bless his oft-concussed head, has the short term memory of a gnat. A few weeks ago he was lamenting that he had no idea what to buy me for my birthday, and I offered a few suggestions, though being money-conscious right now they were all on the inexpensive side. Ok, not all. But most.
Today he started the same line of complaining, realizing that he doesn't have much time left. I reminded him that I'd given him some suggestions, but upon seeing his sheepish look, asked "You forgot, didn't you?" He admitted he had. I started to say that one of the things was a subscription to Goalies' World magazine, which I used to have a while back and loved, but realized there wouldn't be enough time for that now.
Him: What do you mean, not enough time?
Me: Well if you want to give it to me on my actual birthday, you won't have it in time.
Him: Yes I will, I'll just buy a copy at Borders.
Me: Borders closed remember?
Him: Oh... Ok well then I'll get you a Playgirl and just say it's goalies.
Me (laughing but pretending to be insulted): Fuck you!
Him: What! It's got sticks...
It does indeed. He has a point. Now if you'll please excuse me, I need to ponder the possibilities of "Playgirl" and "goalies" in the same sentence....
Today he started the same line of complaining, realizing that he doesn't have much time left. I reminded him that I'd given him some suggestions, but upon seeing his sheepish look, asked "You forgot, didn't you?" He admitted he had. I started to say that one of the things was a subscription to Goalies' World magazine, which I used to have a while back and loved, but realized there wouldn't be enough time for that now.
Him: What do you mean, not enough time?
Me: Well if you want to give it to me on my actual birthday, you won't have it in time.
Him: Yes I will, I'll just buy a copy at Borders.
Me: Borders closed remember?
Him: Oh... Ok well then I'll get you a Playgirl and just say it's goalies.
Me (laughing but pretending to be insulted): Fuck you!
Him: What! It's got sticks...
It does indeed. He has a point. Now if you'll please excuse me, I need to ponder the possibilities of "Playgirl" and "goalies" in the same sentence....
Saturday, September 3, 2011
I Haven't Showered Yet
Just thought you should know that. Such is my dedication to my blog. (Really, I just wanted to finish my coffee first). Today was the last of the Saturday morning open hockey sessions of the summer. It wasn't my best game ever, that's for sure. I wasn't horrendous- I've certainly played worse- but I just couldn't get into the zone. There were three other goalies, so we were rotating 10 min on and 10 min off, and I'm sure that had something to do with it. Plus, I think I left my balls at home today. I just wasn't being aggressive enough, wasn't challenging. I also desperately need to sharpen my skates. They have no edge whatsoever and my feet went out from under me a few times. Not good.
But, speaking of balls, I've got a great phrase to enter into the hockey lexicon. One of the goalies took a really hard shot to a really bad area. He tried to gut it out but ended up limping off to the bench. When my shift was over I skated by and asked him if he was ok and he replied "Yeah, I'm alright. Just grazed the undercarriage there." This guy's a real pisser, running his mouth (in a non-annoying way) for most of the game. He's also super friendly and supportive of other goalies; it's not unusual for him to yell out "Nice save!" all the way from the other end of the ice. As silly as it sounds, that bolsters my confidence. So hats off to the big guy. He sat on the bench for a bit but decided to call it a day. I hope he went home and sat on a giant block of ice. As the guy on the bench next to me observed "That's a shitty way to end the Saturday season."
Saturday season may be over, but the Hawks season is in full swing. We've had four games so far and our record is... get ready for this... 2-2!!!! And, having won our last two games, we're officially on a winning streak. Both wins were satisfying for reasons other than the W, but the last game was probably the best I've felt about a win (not counting tournament-winning games). We had all of 8 skaters, and were going up against one of the faster teams in the league. We battled and battled and came out with an all-around awesome team win. I think I had a really good game myself, and was even complimented by one of the refs at the end of the game.
That game was on the 25th, and our next game isn't until the 11th. At 11pm. After which we have another 11pm game the next night. Not sure how that kind of scheduling happens but that's the way it goes. That's Sunday and Monday, and then on Wednesday of that week the QCats have their first practice of the season. Which means: hockey season is almost here!! Not much longer now to wait....
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Out of the Mouths of Geezers...
My body seems to really be appreciating this brief hockey hiatus. In the mean time, just in case you all were missing me and my babbling (admit it, you were), I figured I'd come share two things of mild interest. Neither is hockey related, but the first thing potentially could have been. I guess I just really can't stay away from hockey, because even though I said I was going to take another week off, when I got back from vacation I started thinking "hmmm... maybe I'll go to open hockey on Wednesday". And then I fell down the stairs.
Nothing's injured, but I have a bruise that as it grows is almost covering my entire butt cheek. Sunday morning, I woke up and wanted a glass of water, so I got out of bed. Our stairs are carpeted, but the steps themselves are kind of short, so both GoalieHusband and I have slipped on occasion. We've always caught ourselves though. Not this time. My right foot went out from under me and although I grabbed for the railing and, missing that, put my arms and feet out to try to break my fall, I bounced down several steps on my left butt cheek. Really, really hard. I landed in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, and almost passed out. I could tell nothing was broken, given how I landed, but holy crap, that pain was worse than when I broke my knee. I lucked out. I could have really done some damage if I'd landed differently. Fortunately I'm just left with this ENORMOUS bruise, which is really gross in kind of a cool way, and the following day had some back and neck pain I guess from bracing myself. So yeah, I decided not to jump right back into hockey and wait until the end of the week as originally planned. Message received, Universe. Loud and clear.
And the second thing, which is what really prompted me to open up this window in my browser and start typing: I work with this older gentleman who is in his early 70's. Yes, his 70's. He's spry and with-it and funny as hell. He's got more money than God but he keep working because he likes what he does. He gets up early every morning to work out and stretch. And unlike most people his age, he embraces and works very well with all the latest technology. We've worked together for almost 15 years, so when he emailed me yesterday and misspelled my name, I just had to bust his chops about it. He replied "I was just using the short version. You know... the twitter way."
I was sitting here at my desk wondering if it could really be possible that he had a twitter account. It didn't seem likely, but I sure wouldn't put it past him. And something about that amused the hell out of me. As I was sitting here pondering what kind of things he would tweet, if he was on twitter, he stopped by my office and asked how I liked his response. I laughed and said it was good, and he then left no doubt it my mind that he in fact does not have a twitter account.
"I was twitting, see? Actually," (adorable geezer laughter) "I had to ask my wife how to even spell twitter!"
It's too bad really. He'd blow that stupid "shit my dad says" account out of the water. Maybe I'll start a campaign to get him on there. The world needs more old geezer humor.
Nothing's injured, but I have a bruise that as it grows is almost covering my entire butt cheek. Sunday morning, I woke up and wanted a glass of water, so I got out of bed. Our stairs are carpeted, but the steps themselves are kind of short, so both GoalieHusband and I have slipped on occasion. We've always caught ourselves though. Not this time. My right foot went out from under me and although I grabbed for the railing and, missing that, put my arms and feet out to try to break my fall, I bounced down several steps on my left butt cheek. Really, really hard. I landed in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, and almost passed out. I could tell nothing was broken, given how I landed, but holy crap, that pain was worse than when I broke my knee. I lucked out. I could have really done some damage if I'd landed differently. Fortunately I'm just left with this ENORMOUS bruise, which is really gross in kind of a cool way, and the following day had some back and neck pain I guess from bracing myself. So yeah, I decided not to jump right back into hockey and wait until the end of the week as originally planned. Message received, Universe. Loud and clear.
And the second thing, which is what really prompted me to open up this window in my browser and start typing: I work with this older gentleman who is in his early 70's. Yes, his 70's. He's spry and with-it and funny as hell. He's got more money than God but he keep working because he likes what he does. He gets up early every morning to work out and stretch. And unlike most people his age, he embraces and works very well with all the latest technology. We've worked together for almost 15 years, so when he emailed me yesterday and misspelled my name, I just had to bust his chops about it. He replied "I was just using the short version. You know... the twitter way."
I was sitting here at my desk wondering if it could really be possible that he had a twitter account. It didn't seem likely, but I sure wouldn't put it past him. And something about that amused the hell out of me. As I was sitting here pondering what kind of things he would tweet, if he was on twitter, he stopped by my office and asked how I liked his response. I laughed and said it was good, and he then left no doubt it my mind that he in fact does not have a twitter account.
"I was twitting, see? Actually," (adorable geezer laughter) "I had to ask my wife how to even spell twitter!"
It's too bad really. He'd blow that stupid "shit my dad says" account out of the water. Maybe I'll start a campaign to get him on there. The world needs more old geezer humor.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Hellloooo? Anyone Down There????
Every now and then I have an experience that I don't really enjoy all that much, but I end up thinking "well if nothing else, this will make for a good blog post". Last night was one of those nights. I was asked to sub in a rink quite a good distance away (over an hour). A few of my QC teammates play with this group during the summer, a group I thought was a league, but it turned out to be more like quasi-pickup hockey. It's mostly girls home from college, with a few older women mixed in. They play 3 periods of running time, and have one ref. It was a pretty decently paced game, and I would have had a lot of fun if not for the bizarre rink conditions.
It was a disgustingly hot and humid day in our area yesterday, and when we got to the rink, we saw that there was quite a bit of fog hovering over the ice surface. By the time we'd dressed and were out for our time slot, it wasn't hovering anymore. It was a dense bank of solid white. I literally couldn't see much further than my own blue line. If there were players in the neutral zone between the red line and our blue line, I could very vaguely make out their shapes. But if they went past the red line, they disappeared completely. The only reason I knew there was a goalie at the other end was because I heard the puck hitting his pads and stick.
It was extremely disorienting, as once play moved out of my zone I basically just had to stand there and wait for players to materialize out of the fog. At least, at first that's what I did. But as you can imagine, if there was that much fog in the rink, it was pretty warm, and eventually my glasses started fogging up as well. The only way I could keep them clear was to keep moving. So while play was in the other end, I'd skate back and forth in front of my net to keep the air flowing over my lenses. It was really frustrating, yet somehow I managed to make several good saves, quite a few on the best player there as well. But between the fog on the ice and on my glasses, the thickness of the air and the fact that there was a hint of mildew hanging around, I was having trouble breathing by the end of the game.
The fog wasn't the only strange thing about the night, either. I actually got my first penalty minutes ever. Don't get too excited, I didn't actually earn them. In fact, if I'd known I was going to get called for this I would have put a little elbow grease into it to make it at least somewhat satisfactory.
I think the best way to describe this is to use MsConduct's favorite illustrative device: the stick figure drawing. Please be nice... I really suck at this.
Frame 1
Frame 2
Yes, that's right. She skated into MY CREASE and tripped over MY LEG as I was doing my goalie thing and moving IN MY CREASE to get set for a shot. I'm pretty sure I heard a splash as she dove onto her stomach. And somehow ***I*** got called for interference on that. Silly me, I guess I should get out of the way of players making a beeline for MY FUCKING CREASE? I chirped about it and one of my D shrugged and said "you might as well have hit her harder". I swear I thought to myself "If gionta182 was here, her head would be exploding right now". Haha.
That was about a minute before the end of the period, and it only got weirder when I got back to the bench. Someone asked me how I was doing, and I said fine, but wasn't sure what that call was all about. One of the players, I think the same D who commented to me that I should have hit her harder, waved my comment off and said "Ah, she's Jewish".
*blink blink*
Then she quickly added "You're not Jewish are you?"
I literally spit out my water. No.... I'm not. But, ummmm.... wtf??? I skated back to the net, played the last period, and wasn't all that sad when it was all over.
I have to tell you, that comment bugged me all day. Why in the world would she pull that out of nowhere? What the hell does that have to do with anything???? I was discussing it with a friend today and she pointed out that the area where the rink is located is known for being a very large Jewish population. Ok... well I guess that kind of explains where that came from but, yeah that really doesn't make it better.
Very, very strange. I don't know if I'll be asked back, but if I am I think I'll pass. That's a really long way to drive to play a game you can't see in a rink you can't breathe in.
And now I'm off for a Hawks game. LET'S KICK IT, BOYS.
It was a disgustingly hot and humid day in our area yesterday, and when we got to the rink, we saw that there was quite a bit of fog hovering over the ice surface. By the time we'd dressed and were out for our time slot, it wasn't hovering anymore. It was a dense bank of solid white. I literally couldn't see much further than my own blue line. If there were players in the neutral zone between the red line and our blue line, I could very vaguely make out their shapes. But if they went past the red line, they disappeared completely. The only reason I knew there was a goalie at the other end was because I heard the puck hitting his pads and stick.
It was extremely disorienting, as once play moved out of my zone I basically just had to stand there and wait for players to materialize out of the fog. At least, at first that's what I did. But as you can imagine, if there was that much fog in the rink, it was pretty warm, and eventually my glasses started fogging up as well. The only way I could keep them clear was to keep moving. So while play was in the other end, I'd skate back and forth in front of my net to keep the air flowing over my lenses. It was really frustrating, yet somehow I managed to make several good saves, quite a few on the best player there as well. But between the fog on the ice and on my glasses, the thickness of the air and the fact that there was a hint of mildew hanging around, I was having trouble breathing by the end of the game.
The fog wasn't the only strange thing about the night, either. I actually got my first penalty minutes ever. Don't get too excited, I didn't actually earn them. In fact, if I'd known I was going to get called for this I would have put a little elbow grease into it to make it at least somewhat satisfactory.
I think the best way to describe this is to use MsConduct's favorite illustrative device: the stick figure drawing. Please be nice... I really suck at this.
Frame 1
Frame 2
Yes, that's right. She skated into MY CREASE and tripped over MY LEG as I was doing my goalie thing and moving IN MY CREASE to get set for a shot. I'm pretty sure I heard a splash as she dove onto her stomach. And somehow ***I*** got called for interference on that. Silly me, I guess I should get out of the way of players making a beeline for MY FUCKING CREASE? I chirped about it and one of my D shrugged and said "you might as well have hit her harder". I swear I thought to myself "If gionta182 was here, her head would be exploding right now". Haha.
That was about a minute before the end of the period, and it only got weirder when I got back to the bench. Someone asked me how I was doing, and I said fine, but wasn't sure what that call was all about. One of the players, I think the same D who commented to me that I should have hit her harder, waved my comment off and said "Ah, she's Jewish".
*blink blink*
Then she quickly added "You're not Jewish are you?"
I literally spit out my water. No.... I'm not. But, ummmm.... wtf??? I skated back to the net, played the last period, and wasn't all that sad when it was all over.
I have to tell you, that comment bugged me all day. Why in the world would she pull that out of nowhere? What the hell does that have to do with anything???? I was discussing it with a friend today and she pointed out that the area where the rink is located is known for being a very large Jewish population. Ok... well I guess that kind of explains where that came from but, yeah that really doesn't make it better.
Very, very strange. I don't know if I'll be asked back, but if I am I think I'll pass. That's a really long way to drive to play a game you can't see in a rink you can't breathe in.
And now I'm off for a Hawks game. LET'S KICK IT, BOYS.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Dick jokes, head shots and good fun hockey
Some goalies get chapped if there are three goalies at an open hockey session. Not me, not if it's a full two hour session and I'm playing with guys who skate as fast as these guys do. Twenty minutes on, ten minutes off, switching sides, works out quite well in those situations. Plus it allows me to catch some of the bench chatter. Which, with these guys, is usually pretty good. During one of my rest periods, the guys had me cracking up, and I even joined in. (I'm usually really quiet and don't say much). There's one poor SOB whose last name is Weiner- or so we assume considering it's on the back of his jersey. Last week as soon as Ringleader saw it he announced that Anthony Weiner had come to play hockey with us, and would probably "twitter" about the game later. The guy was there again this week, and while I was on the bench he was out on the ice and Ringleader & friends were having a good time doing play by play.
"And a nice tip by Weiner..."
"Watch out, Weiner's at the back door..."
Even I piped up: "Weiner's in the slot!"
That got a good laugh out of Ringleader, who repeated it (I'd said it kind of quietly) and then said "Look at Maalivahti jumpin' in. Nice one."
As for the game, I had a bit of a slow start, and found myself thinking at one point "damn I guess I left my balls at home today". I wasn't challenging enough, and with this group, if you don't challenge, you're done. The very first shot I faced was from White Gloves Dude walking in on a breakaway. White Gloves Dude has a sick shot and if I think about it too much, he intimidates the hell out of me. But I've had success against him in the past, by - you guessed it! - being aggressive and challenging. This morning though, he came straight down the middle and flicked it over my shoulder. Oops. We scored about 10 seconds after that though, so I felt a little better.
Still, I wasn't really "on" until my next shift, on the other end, which was the more active end in terms of shots. Just before I went out for that shift, I'd had a conversation with one of the D on the bench about taking shots to the head. Apparently that conversation jinxed both of us, because not only did I go out onto the ice and subsequently take a real hard one right to the grill, I ended up taking two more to the face over the course of the game, and even he got in the way of one. All I can say is, good thing he wears a cage. That would have been ugly. But it was after that shot that I woke up and started playing a lot better. I really don't know why that happens but I'm 'this close' to telling the Hawks to slip a head-hunter in during warm-ups. Senator (who was also there today) even suggested it once. I'm pretty sure he was mostly kidding though. I mentioned this tendency on twitter, and one person said it makes you more aware of what's going on around you, and another said it clears out the cobwebs. While I'm sure the first is really the case, it sure feels more like the second. It's kind of like... *dink!* Blink blink. Ooohhh hey, look how much more focused I am! Look how much sharper my movements are now! Really weird.
When all was said and done and the zamboni chased off the 8 winded skaters who were left and me and the other very tired goalie, I had 90 minutes of actual ice time this morning. No wonder I'm completely wiped, even though I took a nap, and constantly hungry, even though I've been eating all day. All I can say is, I am really glad there were three of us today. It would have been brutal to not have any breaks. I'm going to do it all over again next week though. Three different people asked if I'd be coming out; evidently some of them come from the city and hate to make the trip unless they know there's going to be at least one goalie. Too bad I completely forgot there's a possible Goat Rodeo on Friday night. At midnight. So if that is really going down, I might as well just sleep at the rink. Because there's no way I'm going to miss a Goat Rodeo, and there's no way I'm going to not show up on Saturday when I told a bunch of different people I'd be there. And I think I'm tired today...
"And a nice tip by Weiner..."
"Watch out, Weiner's at the back door..."
Even I piped up: "Weiner's in the slot!"
That got a good laugh out of Ringleader, who repeated it (I'd said it kind of quietly) and then said "Look at Maalivahti jumpin' in. Nice one."
As for the game, I had a bit of a slow start, and found myself thinking at one point "damn I guess I left my balls at home today". I wasn't challenging enough, and with this group, if you don't challenge, you're done. The very first shot I faced was from White Gloves Dude walking in on a breakaway. White Gloves Dude has a sick shot and if I think about it too much, he intimidates the hell out of me. But I've had success against him in the past, by - you guessed it! - being aggressive and challenging. This morning though, he came straight down the middle and flicked it over my shoulder. Oops. We scored about 10 seconds after that though, so I felt a little better.
Still, I wasn't really "on" until my next shift, on the other end, which was the more active end in terms of shots. Just before I went out for that shift, I'd had a conversation with one of the D on the bench about taking shots to the head. Apparently that conversation jinxed both of us, because not only did I go out onto the ice and subsequently take a real hard one right to the grill, I ended up taking two more to the face over the course of the game, and even he got in the way of one. All I can say is, good thing he wears a cage. That would have been ugly. But it was after that shot that I woke up and started playing a lot better. I really don't know why that happens but I'm 'this close' to telling the Hawks to slip a head-hunter in during warm-ups. Senator (who was also there today) even suggested it once. I'm pretty sure he was mostly kidding though. I mentioned this tendency on twitter, and one person said it makes you more aware of what's going on around you, and another said it clears out the cobwebs. While I'm sure the first is really the case, it sure feels more like the second. It's kind of like... *dink!* Blink blink. Ooohhh hey, look how much more focused I am! Look how much sharper my movements are now! Really weird.
When all was said and done and the zamboni chased off the 8 winded skaters who were left and me and the other very tired goalie, I had 90 minutes of actual ice time this morning. No wonder I'm completely wiped, even though I took a nap, and constantly hungry, even though I've been eating all day. All I can say is, I am really glad there were three of us today. It would have been brutal to not have any breaks. I'm going to do it all over again next week though. Three different people asked if I'd be coming out; evidently some of them come from the city and hate to make the trip unless they know there's going to be at least one goalie. Too bad I completely forgot there's a possible Goat Rodeo on Friday night. At midnight. So if that is really going down, I might as well just sleep at the rink. Because there's no way I'm going to miss a Goat Rodeo, and there's no way I'm going to not show up on Saturday when I told a bunch of different people I'd be there. And I think I'm tired today...
Friday, May 6, 2011
Back to the present for a moment...
Our annual "Goat Rodeo" tradition has now become bi-annual, at the very least. We had so much fun at the last one that we decided not to wait until January to do it again. Because, as Hkygrl12 says, "what's great about hockey players is that if something's fun we just do it over and over again". We have the ice at midnight tonight for another night of idiocy. Apparently we're not all waiting until midnight to be idiots, though, as Senator, #28 and I had a scintillating email exchange this morning. It has nothing at all to do with hockey, but since it involves teammates, I'm sharing it.
Senator and I both suffer from seasonal allergies, and right now all hell is breaking loose out here in NJ, with a fine dust of pollen covering everything approximately 5 minutes after you put it outside. So it was that when I got to work sneezing and coughing and desperately looking for a Benadryl, that I emailed Senator saying "Pollen can go fuck itself". He responded that he wholeheartedly agreed, as he and Mrs Senator were both miserable as well. Then it hit me...
From: Me
To: Senator
Actually... I just realized, that's exactly what pollen is for.
---------------------------
From: Senator
To: Me
That's also a good scientific observation... But #28 might challenge you that the pollen is actually fucking.
---------------------------
From: Me
To: #28
CC: Senator
Hey 28-
Senator and I are having a debate and need you to mediate. I said pollen
can go fuck itself, and then realized that in actuality, that's what it's for. Senator says it's not the pollen that's doing the fucking. Your thoughts?
PS are you coming to the goat rodeo?
---------------------------
From: #28
To: Me, Senator
Definitely coming to the goat rodeo. I may not get to the diner until 10:30 or so, but I will be there.
Let's talk about plant sex!
1. Pollen itself is not technically plant-sperm. The pollen grain is a structure that contains the sperm.
2. When the pollen grain reaches the plant's female reproductive structure, it germinates: it produces a pollen tube that transfers the sperm to the ovary. If the process produces an embryo, this is called fertilization.
3. If the pollen was originally produced by the organism that it fertilized, this is called self-fertilization. If the pollen came from a different organism, this is called cross-fertilization.
So is the pollen fucking? Sure, why not. I mean, we don't say "the sperm is fucking the egg," or "the sperm and egg are fucking" (at least I don't)... but since the pollen is the vessel containing the sperm...
well, it's an imprecise analogy, but as the academics say, we live in metaphors.
And in the case of self-fertilization, I might be OK saying the pollen is fucking itself, though that probably requires an additional level of poetic license.
-----------------------
So, in essense, what's making us sneeze is millions of tiny little ballsacks. No wonder I'm all congested, I've got some plant's junk up my nose. Fuck Spring, man.
Senator and I both suffer from seasonal allergies, and right now all hell is breaking loose out here in NJ, with a fine dust of pollen covering everything approximately 5 minutes after you put it outside. So it was that when I got to work sneezing and coughing and desperately looking for a Benadryl, that I emailed Senator saying "Pollen can go fuck itself". He responded that he wholeheartedly agreed, as he and Mrs Senator were both miserable as well. Then it hit me...
From: Me
To: Senator
Actually... I just realized, that's exactly what pollen is for.
---------------------------
From: Senator
To: Me
That's also a good scientific observation... But #28 might challenge you that the pollen is actually fucking.
---------------------------
From: Me
To: #28
CC: Senator
Hey 28-
Senator and I are having a debate and need you to mediate. I said pollen
can go fuck itself, and then realized that in actuality, that's what it's for. Senator says it's not the pollen that's doing the fucking. Your thoughts?
PS are you coming to the goat rodeo?
---------------------------
From: #28
To: Me, Senator
Definitely coming to the goat rodeo. I may not get to the diner until 10:30 or so, but I will be there.
Let's talk about plant sex!
1. Pollen itself is not technically plant-sperm. The pollen grain is a structure that contains the sperm.
2. When the pollen grain reaches the plant's female reproductive structure, it germinates: it produces a pollen tube that transfers the sperm to the ovary. If the process produces an embryo, this is called fertilization.
3. If the pollen was originally produced by the organism that it fertilized, this is called self-fertilization. If the pollen came from a different organism, this is called cross-fertilization.
So is the pollen fucking? Sure, why not. I mean, we don't say "the sperm is fucking the egg," or "the sperm and egg are fucking" (at least I don't)... but since the pollen is the vessel containing the sperm...
well, it's an imprecise analogy, but as the academics say, we live in metaphors.
And in the case of self-fertilization, I might be OK saying the pollen is fucking itself, though that probably requires an additional level of poetic license.
-----------------------
So, in essense, what's making us sneeze is millions of tiny little ballsacks. No wonder I'm all congested, I've got some plant's junk up my nose. Fuck Spring, man.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Still pinching myself
It's been ages since I've been to an adult skills clinic- even before I got hurt. But it's just the thing I need to get me back into the groove, so GoalieHusband and I were up early this morning and heading to the rink. (I still can't tell you how good it feels to be going through those doors dragging my bag behind me.)
When we got there I found that they've instituted a new rule; one locker room for men, one locker room for women. Hallelujah! Damn good thing too, because there were five of us female types, and there's no way we'd have all fit in the closet. One of the women was a QCat teammate, but two of them I'd never met before. They were both just starting out, and very friendly and full of questions, and when they found out we were QCats, they got all excited and asked about joining. I let Pirate handle the schmoozing- we'd gotten there a little late and I was scrambled getting dressed. At the end of the clinic they were talking to GoalieHusband though, and it sounds like they'll be at practice on Wednesday. Cool. Two more potential demented hockey freaks. Yay!
Clinic itself went great. I ran into several people I hadn't seen in a while, including my old coach, so that was pretty cool. I also went up to the coach running the clinic and mentioned I was coming back from a knee injury, and that I wasn't sure how it would go, so if I left a drill that was why. I needn't have worried. I really am extremely lucky that I "only" missed two months. Yes, it seemed like an eternity, but in the scheme of things, it's really not that long, and I think that's why I am doing so well coming back. My stamina is kind of shot, but my reactions are good and my movements still quick. At one point I even made a really good across the grain save and blockered the puck neatly into the corner, and the coach skated by, tapped my pads and said "What knee injury?" I was tempted to tell him my blocker was just fine, but stopped myself, not wanting to look like an ass and miss the next blocker save.
The funniest part of the morning was care of GoalieHusband though. The coach was kneeling on the ice, drawing up a drill with his Sharpie, and indicated an area along the boards where he wanted the D to gather. "This is the defensive corral," he said. GoalieHusband let out a loud, realistic "MOOOOOOOOOOOO". The coach snickered, started to talk again, and just hung his head and laughed. It got a good laugh from the rest of the players too. Leave it to GoalieHusband to crack a joke and throw a coach off his train of thought. Muahaha.
I've been a completely exhausted waste product all day, have a sore right gleut, and a slightly stiff knee but I don't give a damn. I missed this SO MUCH.
When we got there I found that they've instituted a new rule; one locker room for men, one locker room for women. Hallelujah! Damn good thing too, because there were five of us female types, and there's no way we'd have all fit in the closet. One of the women was a QCat teammate, but two of them I'd never met before. They were both just starting out, and very friendly and full of questions, and when they found out we were QCats, they got all excited and asked about joining. I let Pirate handle the schmoozing- we'd gotten there a little late and I was scrambled getting dressed. At the end of the clinic they were talking to GoalieHusband though, and it sounds like they'll be at practice on Wednesday. Cool. Two more potential demented hockey freaks. Yay!
Clinic itself went great. I ran into several people I hadn't seen in a while, including my old coach, so that was pretty cool. I also went up to the coach running the clinic and mentioned I was coming back from a knee injury, and that I wasn't sure how it would go, so if I left a drill that was why. I needn't have worried. I really am extremely lucky that I "only" missed two months. Yes, it seemed like an eternity, but in the scheme of things, it's really not that long, and I think that's why I am doing so well coming back. My stamina is kind of shot, but my reactions are good and my movements still quick. At one point I even made a really good across the grain save and blockered the puck neatly into the corner, and the coach skated by, tapped my pads and said "What knee injury?" I was tempted to tell him my blocker was just fine, but stopped myself, not wanting to look like an ass and miss the next blocker save.
The funniest part of the morning was care of GoalieHusband though. The coach was kneeling on the ice, drawing up a drill with his Sharpie, and indicated an area along the boards where he wanted the D to gather. "This is the defensive corral," he said. GoalieHusband let out a loud, realistic "MOOOOOOOOOOOO". The coach snickered, started to talk again, and just hung his head and laughed. It got a good laugh from the rest of the players too. Leave it to GoalieHusband to crack a joke and throw a coach off his train of thought. Muahaha.
I've been a completely exhausted waste product all day, have a sore right gleut, and a slightly stiff knee but I don't give a damn. I missed this SO MUCH.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Overheard at the Pro Shop
While at a local rink pro shop waiting for my skates to be mangled- I mean, sharpened, GoalieHusband and I overheard a conversation I thought was worth sharing. A dad walked in with his two sons, and one of them gestured excitedly at all the nice shiny new goal pads lined up on a shelf way up high.
Dad: Hey yeah, those are nice, maybe they'd actually close your 5-hole!
Me: [*snort*] Niiiice.
Dad: Oh, was that bad to say?
Me: Well, it was funny. (It was funny when I thought he was joking around. But then he said...)
Dad: What. I didn't tell him to be a goalie, I don't have to be nice to him.
Way to go, Pops. Douche.
Dad: Hey yeah, those are nice, maybe they'd actually close your 5-hole!
Me: [*snort*] Niiiice.
Dad: Oh, was that bad to say?
Me: Well, it was funny. (It was funny when I thought he was joking around. But then he said...)
Dad: What. I didn't tell him to be a goalie, I don't have to be nice to him.
Way to go, Pops. Douche.
Friday, September 3, 2010
This is hard to type
Firstly, I should warn you, I'm a little loopy on wine and coffee flavored tequila. (Hey my husband said the combo was ok... hope he's right). I figured what more appropriate time to post about the drunk guy at open hockey this morning. Yes, Ringleader, from the "wow that pediatric oncologist just killed my comedic inspiration" post showed up this morning, and I could have sworn I heard him say during warm-ups "hey... I'm drunk... is that going to bother anyone?"
I figured... no that's not what I heard. It's 7:30 in the goddamn morning. He must have said something else. But no. When he came off the ice after his first shift and said "I might throw up on someone. I'm drunk.", I realized my ears were working after all. Turns out it was his birthday today. And he apparently really tied one on the night before, got about 2 hours sleep, and was still drunk when he showed up to play. (Which begs the question, how did he get there... but we'll pretend he didn't drive.)
Since there were 3 other goalies besides me, I got quite a bit of bench time. So here's a conglomeration of Ringleader quotes from the bench. Happy 41st birthday. (Which is total bullshit. If he's 41, I'm 19).
"Wow it's like a battle of wits. Nitwits."
"Look at Vladdy, he looks like a real pro" (someone trips Vladdy and he goes sprawling on his stomach) "Now he looks like an idiot."
Now this one requires some setup. We were rolling 5 D for most of the game. One of the forwards left early, so Ringleader decided that meant one of the D had to go up, so there would only be 4. The consensus on the bench was that one of the guys out on the ice at the time should go up, since no one else wanted to. Of course, they knew that guy wouldn't want to either. They discussed telling him his game was so well-rounded that he should play forward.
Then Ringleader told my husband: Ok. I'll go out next. When he comes off you tell him.
Husband: Nice, I like the way you're passing the buck.
Ringleader: Hey, I'm grooming you for the GM position.
It turned out one of the other guys volunteered to move up to forward. The words were barely out of his mouth when Ringleader said "WTF are you doing sitting with us then. Get out of here!"
Also, I learned that apparently, open hockey on Thanksgiving morning features water bottles full of beer being passed around the bench. You bet your ass I'll be showing up this year.
I figured... no that's not what I heard. It's 7:30 in the goddamn morning. He must have said something else. But no. When he came off the ice after his first shift and said "I might throw up on someone. I'm drunk.", I realized my ears were working after all. Turns out it was his birthday today. And he apparently really tied one on the night before, got about 2 hours sleep, and was still drunk when he showed up to play. (Which begs the question, how did he get there... but we'll pretend he didn't drive.)
Since there were 3 other goalies besides me, I got quite a bit of bench time. So here's a conglomeration of Ringleader quotes from the bench. Happy 41st birthday. (Which is total bullshit. If he's 41, I'm 19).
"Wow it's like a battle of wits. Nitwits."
"Look at Vladdy, he looks like a real pro" (someone trips Vladdy and he goes sprawling on his stomach) "Now he looks like an idiot."
Now this one requires some setup. We were rolling 5 D for most of the game. One of the forwards left early, so Ringleader decided that meant one of the D had to go up, so there would only be 4. The consensus on the bench was that one of the guys out on the ice at the time should go up, since no one else wanted to. Of course, they knew that guy wouldn't want to either. They discussed telling him his game was so well-rounded that he should play forward.
Then Ringleader told my husband: Ok. I'll go out next. When he comes off you tell him.
Husband: Nice, I like the way you're passing the buck.
Ringleader: Hey, I'm grooming you for the GM position.
It turned out one of the other guys volunteered to move up to forward. The words were barely out of his mouth when Ringleader said "WTF are you doing sitting with us then. Get out of here!"
Also, I learned that apparently, open hockey on Thanksgiving morning features water bottles full of beer being passed around the bench. You bet your ass I'll be showing up this year.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Real Life
For those of us playing in beer leagues or at drop-ins, hockey is a hobby but also an escape. For the most part I don't know what the other guys do for a living, unless it's part of their nickname. We've got one guy who is a doctor and is known simply as "Doc". (Hockey players are so creative). I honestly don't even know what his name is- everyone just calls him Doc.
Yesterday while I was taking my turn hanging out on the bench, the ringleader of these open hockey sessions (who talks a blue streak and is pretty entertaining) was trying to pump up our team, since we kept losing. (We play to 5 goals and then re-set).
Ringleader: Alright boys, we gotta get back in this. Come on Doc, go at it like it's cataract surgery!
Random Guy: He's an eye doctor?
Ringleader: I have no clue. Hey doc! What kind of doctor are you?
Doc: Oncologist. Pediatric oncology. (Doc jumps onto the ice for his shift)
{silence}
Ringleader: Damn. There's nothing funny about that.
Me: No... there's not.
Ringleader: Yeah that just took the wind out of my comedic sails. Nothing I can say to that.
So hats off to you, Doc. If anyone needs an escape, for sure it's you.
Yesterday while I was taking my turn hanging out on the bench, the ringleader of these open hockey sessions (who talks a blue streak and is pretty entertaining) was trying to pump up our team, since we kept losing. (We play to 5 goals and then re-set).
Ringleader: Alright boys, we gotta get back in this. Come on Doc, go at it like it's cataract surgery!
Random Guy: He's an eye doctor?
Ringleader: I have no clue. Hey doc! What kind of doctor are you?
Doc: Oncologist. Pediatric oncology. (Doc jumps onto the ice for his shift)
{silence}
Ringleader: Damn. There's nothing funny about that.
Me: No... there's not.
Ringleader: Yeah that just took the wind out of my comedic sails. Nothing I can say to that.
So hats off to you, Doc. If anyone needs an escape, for sure it's you.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Things You Don't Normally Hear On The Ice
Yes yes, I'm remiss in blogging about the tournament this weekend. I will do it, I promise. I just had to tell a story from last night's scrimmage because I'm still laughing about it.
This summer the women's team coach has been renting ice and having a pretty open scrimmage- i.e. not just women's team members. It's pretty much the coach's teenage sons and their friends, some women's team members and whoever they feel like inviting. So the skill level is a real mix, because of course you have the kids flying around all over the place, slamming each other into the boards, etc. (which actually is quite fun to watch. I love watching really good players just horsing around. They make it look so effortless... which, I guess it is. Anyway...)
One of the women brought her 17 year old son, and at one point they were both on D in front of me. Now, she's pretty small, but she's feisty and absolutely hates to get pushed around, so she's not shy about pushing back. So here we are, the puck's in our zone, and she's tussling with a dude at the top of my crease. Her son comes out of nowhere to gang up on the guy, yelling "GET OFF MY MOM, BITCH!!!"
She and I busted out laughing. Even as the kid and the other dude skated away, she was still by my crease, both of us in fits of laughter. Between that and an older brother constantly beating on his younger brother, it was a pretty amusing night. Plus, I got to stop lots of pucks. Not a bad ending to a ridiculously stressful day at work.
This summer the women's team coach has been renting ice and having a pretty open scrimmage- i.e. not just women's team members. It's pretty much the coach's teenage sons and their friends, some women's team members and whoever they feel like inviting. So the skill level is a real mix, because of course you have the kids flying around all over the place, slamming each other into the boards, etc. (which actually is quite fun to watch. I love watching really good players just horsing around. They make it look so effortless... which, I guess it is. Anyway...)
One of the women brought her 17 year old son, and at one point they were both on D in front of me. Now, she's pretty small, but she's feisty and absolutely hates to get pushed around, so she's not shy about pushing back. So here we are, the puck's in our zone, and she's tussling with a dude at the top of my crease. Her son comes out of nowhere to gang up on the guy, yelling "GET OFF MY MOM, BITCH!!!"
She and I busted out laughing. Even as the kid and the other dude skated away, she was still by my crease, both of us in fits of laughter. Between that and an older brother constantly beating on his younger brother, it was a pretty amusing night. Plus, I got to stop lots of pucks. Not a bad ending to a ridiculously stressful day at work.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Kind of adorable, yet kind of creepy
My apologies for lack of posts. No hockey to speak of, plus vacation, plus coming back and getting sick right off the bat means I'm totally out of the loop. I did manage to get to the gym on Monday morning though, before the cold germs took over. (I thought maybe I'd sweat them out. Didn't really work so well, they're determined little bastards.) There are a handful of little old geezers who are at the gym every morning when I'm there. They're kind of cute. Walking around with their canes, using the weight machines, talking the ears off of anyone who will listen. I generally just smile at them as I walk by, since I am the type of gym patron known as "Ipod Chick". I'm there to work out, not to socialize.
Monday, though, I had the incredibly strange, yet somewhat hilarious experience of two of the geezers trying to pick me up. At the same time. I think they have an act they do at the old age home that has all the old biddies roaring. Not sure why they thought it would work on me though. I was going through my lower body circuit and got to the last machine (yeah yeah, I know, weight machines are evil. I was taking it easy just coming back from vacation) when the first Geezer caught my attention.
Geezer 1: Can I ask you something?
(Oh boy. Here it comes, he's going to ask about my weird shoes or about my tattoo).
Me (turning off my ipod): Sure...
Geezer 1: Well, me and my buddy [indicates Geezer 2] were wondering something. And we thought who better to ask than a woman, right? Since women have all the answers.
Geezer 2: Or at least ya act like ya do! har har
Me (laughing politely): Oh really? Oh, ok sure, go ahead.
Geezer 1: Well when you get to our age you need to take all kinds of pills for all kinds of stuff...
(oh god please do not let this be going where i think its going)
...and well my friend over here has a really bad stomach infection...
(ew... wtf?)
Geezer 2: Yeah! I have this horrible infection in my stomach, and the doctor gave me antibiotics for it. So I took them, but I had this really bad headache at the base of my skull, and I felt all feverish. (looks at me expectantly...)
Me: Um... so you want to know why you had a headache?
Geezer 2: Yeah!
Me: Well... did you call the doctor who gave you the pills?
Geezer 2: No... this was over the weekend. I'm going to call him later this morning.
Me: Well I don't really know. I know sometimes antibiotics can cause stomach upset. But I've never heard of a headache.
Geezer 1: See! She did know something!
And now it gets really weird... I'm not sure where this came from but Geezer 1 went on a tangent about cooking.
Geezer 1: Are you married?
Me: Yes
Geezer 1: Well I bet when you make dinner, you don't really give your husband a choice do you? Its either "yes" or "no", right?
Me: Well, he pretty much eats anything, he's pretty easy going.
Geezer 1: Oh!!! Well you trained him good!
Me: Not really....
Geezer 2: Hey! Is your husband's nickname 'Lucky'?
Me: No....
Geezer 2: Well it should be, if he's married to you!
Me (nervous laughter)
Geezer 2: Ok now you can pay me for being so nice to you!
Me: What? I don't have any money (more nervous laughter)
Geezer 2: Ah, that's ok your smile is good enough.
Ok.... what the hell just happened there?!?! I seriously wasn't sure whether to be flattered or freaked out. These dudes are there ALL the time too. I guess I'm going to have to be nice and chit-chat with them. Or, just completley avoid them. What the hell, I could make their week if I winked at them, right? ;)
Monday, though, I had the incredibly strange, yet somewhat hilarious experience of two of the geezers trying to pick me up. At the same time. I think they have an act they do at the old age home that has all the old biddies roaring. Not sure why they thought it would work on me though. I was going through my lower body circuit and got to the last machine (yeah yeah, I know, weight machines are evil. I was taking it easy just coming back from vacation) when the first Geezer caught my attention.
Geezer 1: Can I ask you something?
(Oh boy. Here it comes, he's going to ask about my weird shoes or about my tattoo).
Me (turning off my ipod): Sure...
Geezer 1: Well, me and my buddy [indicates Geezer 2] were wondering something. And we thought who better to ask than a woman, right? Since women have all the answers.
Geezer 2: Or at least ya act like ya do! har har
Me (laughing politely): Oh really? Oh, ok sure, go ahead.
Geezer 1: Well when you get to our age you need to take all kinds of pills for all kinds of stuff...
(oh god please do not let this be going where i think its going)
...and well my friend over here has a really bad stomach infection...
(ew... wtf?)
Geezer 2: Yeah! I have this horrible infection in my stomach, and the doctor gave me antibiotics for it. So I took them, but I had this really bad headache at the base of my skull, and I felt all feverish. (looks at me expectantly...)
Me: Um... so you want to know why you had a headache?
Geezer 2: Yeah!
Me: Well... did you call the doctor who gave you the pills?
Geezer 2: No... this was over the weekend. I'm going to call him later this morning.
Me: Well I don't really know. I know sometimes antibiotics can cause stomach upset. But I've never heard of a headache.
Geezer 1: See! She did know something!
And now it gets really weird... I'm not sure where this came from but Geezer 1 went on a tangent about cooking.
Geezer 1: Are you married?
Me: Yes
Geezer 1: Well I bet when you make dinner, you don't really give your husband a choice do you? Its either "yes" or "no", right?
Me: Well, he pretty much eats anything, he's pretty easy going.
Geezer 1: Oh!!! Well you trained him good!
Me: Not really....
Geezer 2: Hey! Is your husband's nickname 'Lucky'?
Me: No....
Geezer 2: Well it should be, if he's married to you!
Me (nervous laughter)
Geezer 2: Ok now you can pay me for being so nice to you!
Me: What? I don't have any money (more nervous laughter)
Geezer 2: Ah, that's ok your smile is good enough.
Ok.... what the hell just happened there?!?! I seriously wasn't sure whether to be flattered or freaked out. These dudes are there ALL the time too. I guess I'm going to have to be nice and chit-chat with them. Or, just completley avoid them. What the hell, I could make their week if I winked at them, right? ;)
Monday, April 19, 2010
More Frustration
Another loss last night. This makes us 0-3 on the season. I didn't write about the last game but it was against a team who was "demoted" from the league above us and they'd been spanked 5-0 in their game before ours, so I guess they figured they needed to bring in an assload of ringers to make themselves feel better. We hung in there with them until the middle of the second, when a short bench and lots of penalties got the better of us. Final score was 7-2.
Last night we played the team that beat those guys 5-0 and I was expecting a thorough shellacking because I'd heard *they'd* brought in ringers too. Turns out it was just their usual team, and the game was actually pretty even skill wise. They had a guy who shouldn't really be there but then so do we. This time I felt I played pretty well. Two of the goals were on blatant blown coverages, which is really frustrating, but then I'm sure it's really frustrating for them when your goalie puts it in her own net too. (Thankfully I didn't do that last night. Much better angle on the stick.)
At any rate, yeah 2 goals were pretty impossible, but there were 2 on breakaway rushes that I should have had. I feel like if it's a breakaway, and it's just me and the other guy, I should make that save every time. And the other one was a weird bounce/fluke. So yep, that's 5 goals against. Not good, but still a hell of a lot better than 7 or 8. Would be nice to get a W soon though.
But to end on a positive note I'll bring you "Locker Room Tidbit of the Night". We have an 18 yr old on the team; his dad plays with us too, it's kind of cool. Unfortunately GoalieHusband loves to give this kid a hard time and rags on him like a younger brother. I told the kid now that he's 18 he can legally beat up GH. Anyway, after the game we'd just come back to the locker room and people were starting to peel their layers off, and one guy noticed that the kid was sitting there with his phone before he'd even taken any gear off.
Senator (that'll be his nickname here): Hey, look at Kid, he's already texting his girlfriend about his two goals.*
Guy Next to Me: He's 18. He's not texting, he's tweeting. Texting is sooooo 2009!
Indeed. So is blogging about your games probably.
*the comment was slightly different, about 1000 times more off color, so I cleaned it up a bit. the sentiment is the same.
Last night we played the team that beat those guys 5-0 and I was expecting a thorough shellacking because I'd heard *they'd* brought in ringers too. Turns out it was just their usual team, and the game was actually pretty even skill wise. They had a guy who shouldn't really be there but then so do we. This time I felt I played pretty well. Two of the goals were on blatant blown coverages, which is really frustrating, but then I'm sure it's really frustrating for them when your goalie puts it in her own net too. (Thankfully I didn't do that last night. Much better angle on the stick.)
At any rate, yeah 2 goals were pretty impossible, but there were 2 on breakaway rushes that I should have had. I feel like if it's a breakaway, and it's just me and the other guy, I should make that save every time. And the other one was a weird bounce/fluke. So yep, that's 5 goals against. Not good, but still a hell of a lot better than 7 or 8. Would be nice to get a W soon though.
But to end on a positive note I'll bring you "Locker Room Tidbit of the Night". We have an 18 yr old on the team; his dad plays with us too, it's kind of cool. Unfortunately GoalieHusband loves to give this kid a hard time and rags on him like a younger brother. I told the kid now that he's 18 he can legally beat up GH. Anyway, after the game we'd just come back to the locker room and people were starting to peel their layers off, and one guy noticed that the kid was sitting there with his phone before he'd even taken any gear off.
Senator (that'll be his nickname here): Hey, look at Kid, he's already texting his girlfriend about his two goals.*
Guy Next to Me: He's 18. He's not texting, he's tweeting. Texting is sooooo 2009!
Indeed. So is blogging about your games probably.
*the comment was slightly different, about 1000 times more off color, so I cleaned it up a bit. the sentiment is the same.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Blogging again... no really, for real this time
Twitter is pretty darn cool. I'm no technical whiz (as you can tell by the quality of this blog) but I finally signed up and wow what a hockey community on there! And quite the goalie community as a subset of that as well. I get pretty much all my hockey (I should say "goalie") news from there now, and have found some pretty cool sites as well. One of them, a blog, inspired me to get my ass in gear and write in here again. She's a goalie like me and a kick-ass writer, go check her out: MsConduct .
So yeah, I changed my name on here as well, because on Twitter I'm maalivahti, and there's already a "goalie gal" on there, and I'm sure she wouldn't want to be confused with me as she's like way cooler than I am.
I have been suffering from lack of ice time in the last week or so, as the Hawks' winter season is over (BECAUSE WE WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP, WOOOOO!), as is the season for the womens' team I've been filling in for. I'm left now with just open hockey sessions, which are really what keep my skills honed, since I'm going up against guys who are light years beyond my skill level. Usually I do pretty well and sometimes I actually kick a little ass. This week though, I just flat out sucked. Combination of no jump in the legs whatsoever and a bunch of college kids home on break. It did however mark the return to the ice of GoalieHusband (I'll still call him that even though I changed my name on here.) After 5 months off the ice healing from concussion issues, he's slowly getting himself back into the game. He's gone to a few clinics and yesterday came to open hockey with me. He played out of his mind. It was great to see. He also brought back a tidbit of bench conversation:
College Kid 1: Hey are you 21 yet?
College Kid 2: Yeah... I'm 22. Man it sucks. When you're turning 21 you have something to look forward to. Now I'm 22, and all I have to look forward to is you get a real job, get a wife, buy a house, have some kids... and then you die.
Wow, thanks for the perspective on life, kid!
So yeah, I changed my name on here as well, because on Twitter I'm maalivahti, and there's already a "goalie gal" on there, and I'm sure she wouldn't want to be confused with me as she's like way cooler than I am.
I have been suffering from lack of ice time in the last week or so, as the Hawks' winter season is over (BECAUSE WE WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP, WOOOOO!), as is the season for the womens' team I've been filling in for. I'm left now with just open hockey sessions, which are really what keep my skills honed, since I'm going up against guys who are light years beyond my skill level. Usually I do pretty well and sometimes I actually kick a little ass. This week though, I just flat out sucked. Combination of no jump in the legs whatsoever and a bunch of college kids home on break. It did however mark the return to the ice of GoalieHusband (I'll still call him that even though I changed my name on here.) After 5 months off the ice healing from concussion issues, he's slowly getting himself back into the game. He's gone to a few clinics and yesterday came to open hockey with me. He played out of his mind. It was great to see. He also brought back a tidbit of bench conversation:
College Kid 1: Hey are you 21 yet?
College Kid 2: Yeah... I'm 22. Man it sucks. When you're turning 21 you have something to look forward to. Now I'm 22, and all I have to look forward to is you get a real job, get a wife, buy a house, have some kids... and then you die.
Wow, thanks for the perspective on life, kid!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Adventures with technology
I've always been a behind-the-scenes sort of person. The stuff that goes on that we don't even notice, that makes things run smoothly, usually intrigues me. So I'm not surprised that the two times this week that my reaction to ending up in the scorekeeper's box twice this week, fiddling with the scoreboard, had me thinking "hey that was kind of neat".
The first instance was at open hockey at an unfamiliar rink a few nights ago. Why would one need to run a scoreboard at open hockey, you might ask. If there are three goalies, and no clock anywhere to be found, running the clock on the scoreboard provides the only way to keep track of time and know when to change fairly. Of course, it took a bit for us to figure that out. As warmups were wrapping up that night and I was hanging out by the boards watching the other two goalies take shots, one of the goalies gave me the "10 minutes" signal. I nodded, looked around.... then skated over to him.
Me: This might sound dumb, but where's the clock?
Him (pointing to a lit display on the other side of the rink): Right over there.
Me: (silence)
Him: That's an exit sign isn't it.
Me: Yeah...
It wasn't until about 5 minutes into play that he skated up to the bench and asked me if I knew how to run the scoreboard, having come up with the brilliant idea that we could use that clock to keep track of our shifts. I had no clue, but another guy on the bench said he'd used to work it and would go set it for us. Unfortunately, he didn't set it to just run straight time, he set it up for a 20-minute period. That was all well and good but had the unfortunate effect of setting off the "pavlov's dog" mechanism in all the skaters' brains when the horn went off 20 minutes later. Even though we'd only played for about 25 minutes, play came to a screeching halt.
Dopey Defenseman: Whoah. Is that it? We're done?
Me (from the net): Keep playing, we just set it to keep track of time.
DD: Ooohhhh....
Usually, the scoreboard dude would go over and reset the clock every 20 minutes when the horn sounded. However if he was on the ice at the time, whichever goalie wasn't playing would go into the box and try to figure it out. Goalies being quite a smart breed, I had confidence that it wouldn't take much. How hard could it be? Still it made for an amusing picture, seeing a goalie in the scorer's box, standing there staring at the board, poking at random buttons and looking up at the clock.
The first instance was at open hockey at an unfamiliar rink a few nights ago. Why would one need to run a scoreboard at open hockey, you might ask. If there are three goalies, and no clock anywhere to be found, running the clock on the scoreboard provides the only way to keep track of time and know when to change fairly. Of course, it took a bit for us to figure that out. As warmups were wrapping up that night and I was hanging out by the boards watching the other two goalies take shots, one of the goalies gave me the "10 minutes" signal. I nodded, looked around.... then skated over to him.
Me: This might sound dumb, but where's the clock?
Him (pointing to a lit display on the other side of the rink): Right over there.
Me: (silence)
Him: That's an exit sign isn't it.
Me: Yeah...
It wasn't until about 5 minutes into play that he skated up to the bench and asked me if I knew how to run the scoreboard, having come up with the brilliant idea that we could use that clock to keep track of our shifts. I had no clue, but another guy on the bench said he'd used to work it and would go set it for us. Unfortunately, he didn't set it to just run straight time, he set it up for a 20-minute period. That was all well and good but had the unfortunate effect of setting off the "pavlov's dog" mechanism in all the skaters' brains when the horn went off 20 minutes later. Even though we'd only played for about 25 minutes, play came to a screeching halt.
Dopey Defenseman: Whoah. Is that it? We're done?
Me (from the net): Keep playing, we just set it to keep track of time.
DD: Ooohhhh....
Usually, the scoreboard dude would go over and reset the clock every 20 minutes when the horn sounded. However if he was on the ice at the time, whichever goalie wasn't playing would go into the box and try to figure it out. Goalies being quite a smart breed, I had confidence that it wouldn't take much. How hard could it be? Still it made for an amusing picture, seeing a goalie in the scorer's box, standing there staring at the board, poking at random buttons and looking up at the clock.
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