Humbled

Moaning and groaning about missing ice time and feeling like crap in general feels pretty silly in comparison to stuff like this.

Whoa, what day is it?

How fast the time flies when you're flat on your back in a fevered fog. The first part of our trip went beautifully- we got to see the Predators and Blues, and made it back home in time for a few hours of sleep before heading out for our last "regular season" game. I'm glad we did it that way, and would probably do it again, even though I'm sure the push to drive through the night and not sleep is why I ended up sicker than I've been in a very long time. Oh, I felt fine on Monday night, great actually, because we were out for revenge on a team that beat us a few weeks earlier, and got it: to the tune of a 5-1 win. And yes ladies and gents, that is officially the lowest goals-against of my "career". So I was quite happy about that.

Unfortunately, by Tuesday afternoon I was huddled in bed, sweating and shivering, and my husband finally had enough of my moaning and dragged me to a doctor on Thursday. He says I had/have sinusitis, I think I had/have the flu. Regardless, he gave me antibiotics, and today I'm actually fever-free for the first time in days. I still feel like a bus hit me, but at least I was up and around a little bit today. Unfortunately, this ruined our vacation plans of playing lots of open hockey, and traveling to Ottawa for today's Ranger/Senator game. And now I am feeling just good enough to be frustrated. I have several important events coming up this week; Monday we have our first playoff game and we have tickets to the Rangers game on Thursday. (The other is not hockey-related). As it is now, I'm not sure if I'm even going to work on Monday, so I doubt I'll be playing. Which is really, really, really hard for me to do. Because I'm sure I could probably push myself to play. In fact, I may feel pretty good on Monday night. Not playing if I feel good is going to be extremely difficult, but I think it will have to be done. Under no circumstances do I want to be that sick again if I have anything to do with it. I really hope that by Thursday I can go to the Rangers game, but I'm not even counting on that.

I'm never this sick, this often. I think it's time to start drinking a lot more. I'm sure that has a lot to do with it. The fever left me extremely dehydrated, and I probably wasn't hydrated well to begin with. Lots of fluids and vitamins for me now.... I'm not letting this happen again.

Talk goalie to me

A few issues ago, Goalie's World magazine had a feature on Dwayne Roloson. Their features always analyze the goalie's style by taking pages from his "playbook", i.e. showing frame by frame what he's good at and how he does it. One of the things they focused on with "Roli" was what they called a "crest save", and explained that he is one of the few goalies who does it, and does it well. (Basically, it's lining yourself up to take the puck right in the crest on the chest of your jersey, allowing you to trap it there with your glove, or by crunching your body down).

Being the incredibly immature person I am when it comes to what I find humorous, I fell into a fit of giggles at hearing the announcer during an Oilers game describe such a save by saying "...and a save by Roloson. You know, he just loves to take it right in the oil." I thought no one could top that. Well, tonight, the broadcasters on Rogers Sportsnet did just that in calling the Blackhawks / Flames game. A Hawk walked in on Kiprusoff and was summarily stuffed; apparently by just such a "crest save" (I was listening, not watching). The following words actually left the announcer's mouth:

"...and there's Kiprusoff, taking it right in the flaming C and holding on..."

Damn good thing the Flames aren't in Atlanta anymore.

Success breeds insanity

Last night our meager 1-4-1 team went up against the #1 team in the league. It was a frustrating game to start out with, as we were down 5-2 at one point in the 2nd period. But somehow we managed to rally and ended up with a 7-6 win. It felt so good to see the skaters break out and just keep burying the puck in the net to bring us up to a tie, and then put us over the top. I vowed to do everything possible to keep my end of the bargain. After one particularly exhilarating (if not gray-hair-inducing) save and subsequent scuffle to cover the puck, a team-mate said "just keep us in this thing". I got up and said "you bet!"... and I managed to keep my word.

Riding the high from a come-behind win against the best team in the league inspired my husband and I to pledge to be back for next week's game- even though we'd originally planned to be away. Oh we're still going away- we have tickets for games in Nashville and St. Louis this weekend - but we're going to drive like bats out of batcaves to get back in time for Monday night's game. It's a little nuts, but it's not like we had anything planned for the trip home other than to meander through the Blue Ridge Mountains. Armchair geologist that I am, I know that they're not going anywhere anytime soon, and we have a trip to Atlanta to make, so we can do our meandering then.

Of course, in the light of day, after realizing we booked a hotel for after the game in St. Louis, this plan seems a little silly. But hotels can be cancelled. What matters is that no one else is going to be in that net but me. Now I better stand on my pinky next week or I'll feel mighty stupid...

Beer = Fun

There are probably smarter things to do on a cold night in late fall than stand around outside with wet hair drinking beer, but it's a hell of a lot of fun when you have good company. After a skills clinic, my husband and I and two of our team-mates hung out outside the rink with the clinic instructor, league coordinator, and a few other guys from the clinic. We were there for so long that the two teams who were inside playing eventually came out and joined us (and fired up a portable grill, which was welcomed as much for its heat as the hot dogs it cooked). We had a great time ragging on each other and telling silly stories and coming up with next season's team name by accident. If Mr. I Drive A Zamboni And Chicks Dig Me actually remembers and names our team the "Bumblebees", I apologize profusely in advance.

Igor Murin (of Zlin of the Czech Extraliga) probably spends a lot of time standing around drinking beer as well. Has to be the only way he'd come up with something like this.

A thing of beauty

I've had a love-hate relationship with my goalie lessons since they started; I dread the grueling physical strain but at the same time I welcome it and I love putting the pieces together and learning new things. Unfortunately I'm taking a hiatus until after the holidays- money wise and schedule wise it's just not a good time right now. I expected to feel a sense of relief on Sunday night when I didn't have to prepare my gear, lay out the clothes I'd jump into at 4:45 a.m., pack clothes for work and provisions for a shower at the rink, and a sense of freedom on Monday morning when I was waking up at 6:30 instead of toiling on the ice. But I didn't. Instead I felt mildly disappointed and let down. That's probably a good sign.

But what's even better is what happened in last night's game. The final result was a 4-4 tie, not exactly what you'd expect to hear anyone call a "great game", least of all a goalie who let in 4 shots. However I think I played extremely well. I faced a lot of shots, and in analyzing the saves I made, I think I had pretty good control of most of my rebounds and was quick to cover loose pucks; both areas I'd been struggling with. I did make mistakes, and I was out of position on the 3rd goal but overall I did well. The jewel in my goaltending crown last night though was one save in particular, a kick-save that I wish I could email my coach about. Not so much because it was a great save (which if you'll pardon my horn-blowing, it was), but because I knew exactly what I was doing, and I felt all the gears fall into place and turn the right cogs to get my body exactly where it needed to be in exactly the right way.

If I could, without feeling giddy and silly, I would tell my coach that I was focused and tracked the play, and saw the open man to my left even though I was squared up after a save at the top of my crease to the right. I would tell him that without thinking, my brain told my torso to turn to the left, and my left leg to tuck slightly behind me, which my instinct had been fighting in all my lessons. I'd tell him that I picked up and put my weight on my right leg (not only the "right" leg but the "correct" leg) and pushed to the left while extending my left pad, to get there in time to kick the puck into the corner. I didn't think "ok, I have to do this now". I just let the training take over and the fact that it did, that is the thing of beauty.

Victory Not Vengeance*

The Hawks have been reincarnated once again, with a good percentage of the old crew, but with some of the ringers culled in the league-wide levelling of the playing field. This season we're known as the Sky Hawks (gotta love how they're keeping with a theme), and we have dreadful bright yellow jerseys that, as one new team-mate put it, make us look like bees. We have several new faces on the team, and a bench full to bursting, and both factors have contributed to a sort of chaotic approach to our first few games, none of which resulted in wins.

That all changed on Monday night, however. I was looking forward to this game in particular because of the opposing goalie. Phil, from our original roller hockey group, had been dabbling in ice hockey over the past few months, and decided to join the same league we joined. Obviously, they put him on another team, since ours already had a goalie. For some reason I've always had a competition with Phil in my mind. I never let him know it (and hopefully he never reads this), but it always bugged me that he was as good as I was, but started playing in net a few months after me, and certainly didn't work as hard at it or do it as frequently. It frustrated me, because I felt I should be ahead of him in terms of skill level. Since I haven't played roller in a while, I can't say where we are in relation to each other there, but I think I definitely have the advantage on ice (even before I started the lessons).

The game was one of the best-played by the entire team. People were working together, playing their positions, the whole thing was like a well-oiled machine. Ok that might be going a bit too far. But as close to a well-oiled machine that a bunch of 30-somethings who just started playing hockey can get. At first the score was close. We went up 2-0 and then shortly after that they scored to bring it back to within one. But slowly, as we all predicted, the more shots we put on Phil, the more went in, the more frustrated he became until he lost all focus and just about everything went in. The final score was 9-2, and I actually started to feel a little bad for him towards the end of the game. For a few minutes. Then I reflected on what a great game the team had played as a whole, and realized I'd bettered my previous outing by one goal, and I couldn't stop grinning.

Personally, I had a really good game. The defense helped me out in a big way by not letting much through to me, but I found a way to come up with saves on most of the shots I did face. The two that beat me weren't anything to hang my head in shame over; one on a weird bounce off my own guy through traffic, and one from a wide open man on a 2 on 1. Two weeks from now, I think I'll have made that save, because I'm getting quicker in the crease every time I go out, thanks to the lessons.

But what really satisfied me was the rough pats on the mask from team-mates who knew how badly I wanted to beat this team and why, and how happy they were with my play.

Bring on the next game.


*super blog points if anyone gets what this is a reference to