Remember last summer, when I posted this? One year later and even more firmly entrenched in the determination to play, I jumped at the chance when Goalie Husband offered to drive back from our vacation solely so I could play in our league game this week, only to turn around the next day and drive back to the cabin on the sea where we're spending our week with family. Ultimate kudos to Goalie Husband for this, as he's been on extremely long term IR while his ACL reconstruction heals, and I know it is difficult for him to watch games and wish he was out there defending the team's net along with me. But, since he offered... I could hardly refuse.
So, yesterday we left the sand and surf behind and many hours later were at the opposite end of the spectrum, a frozen sheet of ice in front of us instead of an endless ocean of rolling waves. I am forever greatful. Part of the reason I wanted so badly to play was a little personal competition I have with the goalie on the other team- completely friendly, but a competition nonetheless.
To be perfectly frank, I wasn't sure after the first two games if our team would ever gel. I just got (and still slightly do get) a sense of something being somewhat "off" in terms of all the personalities meshing. But maybe it's just me. I was pleasantly surprised though when we played a much more cohesive game than our last two have been, and I include myself in that. I actually came out of the net to get a puck on a power play and *gasp* passed it to my team-mate who was coming back, hopefully helping out the team by saving him a few seconds from having to chase it down behind the goal line.
Other than that, I had a decent game. The first goal was a groaner, as I went across for a pass, got stuck on the outside edge of my skate and stumbled as I tried to come back across and fell on my butt. I wasn't happy with the second goal either, but the third was absolutely impossible to stop, considering it was even more impossible to see. The fourth was completely bogus- pinging off the corner of the crossbar and post and coming back out without crossing the goal line, but since there's no video review in instructional leagues, no amount of arguing from our side was going to change the refs' minds. Fortunately we went ahead on an ensuing power play and managed to stave off a sustained attack in the final minutes when the other team pulled their goalie. I think I had more work in those last 3 minutes than in the whole third period, but it was exhilerating. And that's not to fault the team- the opponents came on very strong and with an extra attacker came close several times.
Relaxing afterwards with a few friends and a few brews was a good way to end the night (or, technically, start the day, given the time) but it was a tad subdued since the opposing goalie was one of the gang, and was in no mood to celebrate being beaten, having had a rough game to boot. As he said though, I'm sure our paths will cross again this season... in the playoffs. And I say bring it on.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
What a mess
Game two was only better than game one on the scoreboard. In fact, on the ice, it was worse. And in my head... I don't know what happened. Well, maybe I do. I'm not sure why but I had a case of nerves before the game. Add to that a little bit of drama (that doesn't involve anyone reading this blog so don't worry about it) and you don't have a very focused goalie. The final score was 4-3 (our win), but all three of those goals were ridiculous. The first one I overestimated the speed of the shot and my timing was way off. The second one was a save, and then a puck bouncing around in the crease, which I had a clear look at and plenty of time to cover, but I fumbled and it was over the line before I got to it. The third was a penalty shot I should have stopped in my goddamn sleep.
I just never got into the rhythm of the game. And the whole team was off. Thankfully the team we played against was even worse, with the exception of a ringer or two. And their goalie, who was a sub. I've been out of sorts all week, really. I have a vacation coming up, hopefully that will help. But all I can see is 7 straight days with no hockey and that's not really helping.
I just never got into the rhythm of the game. And the whole team was off. Thankfully the team we played against was even worse, with the exception of a ringer or two. And their goalie, who was a sub. I've been out of sorts all week, really. I have a vacation coming up, hopefully that will help. But all I can see is 7 straight days with no hockey and that's not really helping.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Living every hockey fan's dream
This weekend my team-mates (and some former team-mates) rented ice to have the first of what will hopefully be many "alumni games". I guess that name isn't all that accurate, considering the fact that only a handful of them were former team-mates who have moved up and on to better leagues, but that's what we've been calling it. Major props to the guy who put it all together- it was an absolute blast.
It was, however, the afterparty that will live on in my and GoalieHusband's memories for quite some time. (Hmmm... with hockey, isn't that always the case?) Naturally, after expending all that energy, one must replace it with quality beverages, preferably those made from hops and grains. This was certainly not the first time GH and I have sat around drinking after a game, and it wasn't even the first time we outlasted everyone else on the team and ended up being the only ones hanging out with the rink manager. But it was the first time that said manager (let's call him "Bob") proposed heading to a nearby bar when the suds ran out, and as we weren't ready to call it a night yet, we thought that sounded like a damn good idea. So off we went.
Several beers and not a few shots later, somehow the subject came up. I couldn't tell ya who brought it up, or in what context it was raised, but GH and I were rambling about how neat it would be to drive the zamboni. Bob took his keys out of his pocket and dangled them temptingly in front of us, a shit-eating grin on his face. Not long after, it was last call and we were finishing up our beer and heading back to the rink. I felt like a kid in a candy store when Bob opened the giant door to the bay in the back where the infamous machines are kept. GH and I walked all around them, peering in at the gagues and the augurs (sp?) and blades. We got a very quick lesson on how all the equipment worked, and then Bob fired one up and took it out on the ice. He showed us which levers NOT to pull (he was just letting us drive it... not actually letting us completely destroy the ice with our tipsy giddiness and lack of familiarity with the mechanisms), and then hopped down. I climbed up first. It was dark in the rink, but the headlights on the zamboni clearly illuminated the surface and - most importantly - the boards. And I'm proud to say I managed to steer very clear of the boards as I maneuvered the vehicle around the ice, in my absolute glory the entire time. GoalieHusband did the same. In fact he even had the balls to drive it backwards for a bit.
That has to be the coolest experience I've ever had at the rink. We also got to peek in at the engine room, which houses the unreal amount of machinery that keeps the rinks cool. We sat outside and talked until the sun came up. Bob is "good people".
Good times. Hockey rules.
It was, however, the afterparty that will live on in my and GoalieHusband's memories for quite some time. (Hmmm... with hockey, isn't that always the case?) Naturally, after expending all that energy, one must replace it with quality beverages, preferably those made from hops and grains. This was certainly not the first time GH and I have sat around drinking after a game, and it wasn't even the first time we outlasted everyone else on the team and ended up being the only ones hanging out with the rink manager. But it was the first time that said manager (let's call him "Bob") proposed heading to a nearby bar when the suds ran out, and as we weren't ready to call it a night yet, we thought that sounded like a damn good idea. So off we went.
Several beers and not a few shots later, somehow the subject came up. I couldn't tell ya who brought it up, or in what context it was raised, but GH and I were rambling about how neat it would be to drive the zamboni. Bob took his keys out of his pocket and dangled them temptingly in front of us, a shit-eating grin on his face. Not long after, it was last call and we were finishing up our beer and heading back to the rink. I felt like a kid in a candy store when Bob opened the giant door to the bay in the back where the infamous machines are kept. GH and I walked all around them, peering in at the gagues and the augurs (sp?) and blades. We got a very quick lesson on how all the equipment worked, and then Bob fired one up and took it out on the ice. He showed us which levers NOT to pull (he was just letting us drive it... not actually letting us completely destroy the ice with our tipsy giddiness and lack of familiarity with the mechanisms), and then hopped down. I climbed up first. It was dark in the rink, but the headlights on the zamboni clearly illuminated the surface and - most importantly - the boards. And I'm proud to say I managed to steer very clear of the boards as I maneuvered the vehicle around the ice, in my absolute glory the entire time. GoalieHusband did the same. In fact he even had the balls to drive it backwards for a bit.
That has to be the coolest experience I've ever had at the rink. We also got to peek in at the engine room, which houses the unreal amount of machinery that keeps the rinks cool. We sat outside and talked until the sun came up. Bob is "good people".
Good times. Hockey rules.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Not the best showing
Another season is underway, and our first outing ended in a very disappointing tie. As seems to be usual for our first games, it was a little off. For the most part we have the same group returning, but we have a few new people (two of whom were there), and a few other regulars who were out. Of the two new guys, one distinguished himself right away as the Opinionated Loudmouth. I’m sure it’s got to be a little awkward coming into a locker room full of people who all know each other and have played together for a while, but as one of my team-mates later described him, he was like a bull in a china shop. Fortunately I didn’t have to deal all that much with him, since he’s a forward.
But what I did have to deal with was the other team. Our rivals for a few seasons running now. This is the team with a significant amount of females on it, who play chippy and dirty and for the most part get away with it. Fortunately last night the refs were actually calling their infractions. Still, there were several elbows and hooks and checks that I saw go unnoticed by the zebras. At least they weren’t running me.
I’m not satisfied with my game, because the second goal, though it was a tough one, I feel I should have had. Actually, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place- a rebound went right off my pad to the waiting stick of a wide open player on the other side of the crease. Yes, the player was open and shouldn’t have been. But I managed to come across and stop a college guy on a similar play (it was a pass, not a rebound, but same result) the other night, so I certainly should have had enough time to get in front of that one. I felt like I just stood there and watched it go past me. Bad goalie.
So all in all, it wasn’t the greatest first game experience. It could have been worse- we could have lost. They could have run me. They could have really poured on the dramatics to try to draw penalties. We could have ended up with ugly jerseys. I begged the front desk chick to give us some decent jerseys this season and she did, hallelujah.
Here’s to next week when hopefully some of the rust will be off our game.
But what I did have to deal with was the other team. Our rivals for a few seasons running now. This is the team with a significant amount of females on it, who play chippy and dirty and for the most part get away with it. Fortunately last night the refs were actually calling their infractions. Still, there were several elbows and hooks and checks that I saw go unnoticed by the zebras. At least they weren’t running me.
I’m not satisfied with my game, because the second goal, though it was a tough one, I feel I should have had. Actually, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place- a rebound went right off my pad to the waiting stick of a wide open player on the other side of the crease. Yes, the player was open and shouldn’t have been. But I managed to come across and stop a college guy on a similar play (it was a pass, not a rebound, but same result) the other night, so I certainly should have had enough time to get in front of that one. I felt like I just stood there and watched it go past me. Bad goalie.
So all in all, it wasn’t the greatest first game experience. It could have been worse- we could have lost. They could have run me. They could have really poured on the dramatics to try to draw penalties. We could have ended up with ugly jerseys. I begged the front desk chick to give us some decent jerseys this season and she did, hallelujah.
Here’s to next week when hopefully some of the rust will be off our game.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
So Jealouse...
Remember back in May, when I played open hockey and ended up in the middle of a college game? And that goalie who I called Kid With Awesome Pads was there? Well, the college contingent was out in full force again today, including said Kid. Actually, today it wasn't as intense as that other time. I'd say it was about a 60/40 mix of college kids to random adults.
Anyway.... Kid With Awesome Pads was there again, and I found myself in awe of his skill again. When I go to pro games I love to park my butt behind the goalie during warm-up and just absorb as much as I can. I get that same feeling from watching this kid. Now, of course I'm not saying he's pro level. Obviously if he was he wouldn't be playing dopey open hockey. (Or maybe he would... who knows. I have no idea what school he goes to but I might have a way to find out). But he's also the only pure butterfly goalie I've seen at any of these open sessions, who is as good at it as he is. He's so crisp and it's obvious it's all muscle memory. With my lessons, and some of the reading I've been doing, I'm learning the subtle differences of butterfly goaltending vs a more hybrid style, which is becoming more prevalent these days. Of course, open hockey is a totally different animal, because you get guys of all ages and skill levels in there- some old-timers who learned their art 30 years ago, some people who (like me until recently) are self-taught, etc. So it's been rare in my experience to see someone so technically by-the-book, and so good at it, and make it look so effortless. It really honestly is a thing of beauty to watch. And then I get all cranky and jealous.
However, on the positive side, I made a save today that I don't think I would have made just two weeks ago. I'm working on tightening up my blocking butterfly, and today was the first time I made this particular kind of save while consciously thinking about it and not having it just be luck. Short description: Play was off to the top right corner of my crease. Puck got passed to wide open man on top left corner of the crease (a few feet back). I read the pass and managed to get over quick enough to go down and block it (and also managed to decipher in that split second that he was close enough that I could use this technique without worrying about him putting it over my shoulder), and I kept my elbows tucked and tight to my body and the puck bounced off my arm. Two weeks ago, that would have found a sloppy hole between my elbow and my torso and gone right through me. So, I'm really happy that I was a) able to read the situation so well, b) get there in time, and c) get there in time in the right position. I hope I can keep doing that, because I definitely felt something "click" in that situation.
And last but not least... Bench Chatter of the Day.
I was at the bench waiting for my turn to go back out on the ice, and when I do that I don't actually sit on the bench, but wait off to the side, leaning on the boards. I always feel like I'm in the way of players coming on and off the ice. A guy ended his shift and plopped down on the bench and said "Whew! Damn that hot sauce!"
Player next to him: What?
Hot Sauce: I shouldn't have had hot sauce on that sandwich. Wheeeew!
A few seconds go by....
Hot Sauce: Hey, goalie. There's room here on the bench you know.
Me: Oh that's ok, thanks but I always get in the way.
Hot Sauce: Aw come on, do I smell that bad?
Me (laughing): No... I just take up too much room.
Hot Sauce: You know, I heard that all this sweat and... what, pheromones? ... drives the ladies crazy.
Me (grinning): Why do you think I'd rather play with guys?
At that point a guy who had just flubbed a pass came off the ice.
Hot Sauce: You picked the right time to come off, man.
Flubber (out of breath): Fuck me...
Hot Sauce: Hey! Watch your language! There's a fuckin' lady over here!
Me: Hey I don't give a fuck.
Ahhh, the things I miss out on by not being on the bench. Though, I'd much rather miss stuff like that if I can also miss this...
Guy halfway down bench not looking so good: Hey goalie.... can you push that garbage can down here by me? Just in case I throw up...
Ugh. Dude. If you're that sick don't play. For chrissakes it's just open hockey. Yuck. Fortunately I got on the ice not long after that, but he didn't look so hot on the ice, either.
And by the way... that is not a typo in the subject line. If you don't get it, make sure your sound is on and click here.
Anyway.... Kid With Awesome Pads was there again, and I found myself in awe of his skill again. When I go to pro games I love to park my butt behind the goalie during warm-up and just absorb as much as I can. I get that same feeling from watching this kid. Now, of course I'm not saying he's pro level. Obviously if he was he wouldn't be playing dopey open hockey. (Or maybe he would... who knows. I have no idea what school he goes to but I might have a way to find out). But he's also the only pure butterfly goalie I've seen at any of these open sessions, who is as good at it as he is. He's so crisp and it's obvious it's all muscle memory. With my lessons, and some of the reading I've been doing, I'm learning the subtle differences of butterfly goaltending vs a more hybrid style, which is becoming more prevalent these days. Of course, open hockey is a totally different animal, because you get guys of all ages and skill levels in there- some old-timers who learned their art 30 years ago, some people who (like me until recently) are self-taught, etc. So it's been rare in my experience to see someone so technically by-the-book, and so good at it, and make it look so effortless. It really honestly is a thing of beauty to watch. And then I get all cranky and jealous.
However, on the positive side, I made a save today that I don't think I would have made just two weeks ago. I'm working on tightening up my blocking butterfly, and today was the first time I made this particular kind of save while consciously thinking about it and not having it just be luck. Short description: Play was off to the top right corner of my crease. Puck got passed to wide open man on top left corner of the crease (a few feet back). I read the pass and managed to get over quick enough to go down and block it (and also managed to decipher in that split second that he was close enough that I could use this technique without worrying about him putting it over my shoulder), and I kept my elbows tucked and tight to my body and the puck bounced off my arm. Two weeks ago, that would have found a sloppy hole between my elbow and my torso and gone right through me. So, I'm really happy that I was a) able to read the situation so well, b) get there in time, and c) get there in time in the right position. I hope I can keep doing that, because I definitely felt something "click" in that situation.
And last but not least... Bench Chatter of the Day.
I was at the bench waiting for my turn to go back out on the ice, and when I do that I don't actually sit on the bench, but wait off to the side, leaning on the boards. I always feel like I'm in the way of players coming on and off the ice. A guy ended his shift and plopped down on the bench and said "Whew! Damn that hot sauce!"
Player next to him: What?
Hot Sauce: I shouldn't have had hot sauce on that sandwich. Wheeeew!
A few seconds go by....
Hot Sauce: Hey, goalie. There's room here on the bench you know.
Me: Oh that's ok, thanks but I always get in the way.
Hot Sauce: Aw come on, do I smell that bad?
Me (laughing): No... I just take up too much room.
Hot Sauce: You know, I heard that all this sweat and... what, pheromones? ... drives the ladies crazy.
Me (grinning): Why do you think I'd rather play with guys?
At that point a guy who had just flubbed a pass came off the ice.
Hot Sauce: You picked the right time to come off, man.
Flubber (out of breath): Fuck me...
Hot Sauce: Hey! Watch your language! There's a fuckin' lady over here!
Me: Hey I don't give a fuck.
Ahhh, the things I miss out on by not being on the bench. Though, I'd much rather miss stuff like that if I can also miss this...
Guy halfway down bench not looking so good: Hey goalie.... can you push that garbage can down here by me? Just in case I throw up...
Ugh. Dude. If you're that sick don't play. For chrissakes it's just open hockey. Yuck. Fortunately I got on the ice not long after that, but he didn't look so hot on the ice, either.
And by the way... that is not a typo in the subject line. If you don't get it, make sure your sound is on and click here.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Not funny, Phantom
There's a dude at the rink that most of us call "the Phantom", due to the fact that he's always there, night and day, and sort of sneaks around and just appears at the exact moment he's needed. He's a good guy, but he's a bit odd. Someone dubbed him the Phantom, musing aloud that he sleeps in the rafters over one of the ice surfaces. When I heard that, I had a very clear picture of him scrambling up the wall at night, to get to his perch. I'd never call him that to his face, because I really do like the guy, but it totally fits.
Well, I think I'll stop referring to him that way, because sometimes payback's a bitch. He must have been hanging out under one of the benches when I was telling a friend about him, and overheard me. See, after my lesson today, I went into an empty locker room to shower, and locked the dead bolt on the door behind me. I was on the side where the figure skaters were using the ice, and they never use the locker rooms, so I had my choice. I picked the farthest one away from the lobby, just in case some of them decided they needed a place to hang their sequins while they strutted around.
I showered, dressed, did the hair and makeup thing, and went to leave. Only.... I couldn't. I turned the deadbolt back, pulled on the handle, and nothing happened. Ok, I thought, maybe the deadbolt didn't go all the way back. I tried it again. And again. I could see it move away from the door jamb but still my efforts to open the door were unrewarded. Feeling like an idiot, I banged on the door a few times, even though I knew there was no one around to hear me. I thought to myself, surely I'm not trapped in here.... But I was. I spent the next ten minutes or so furiously banging on the door and yelling my head off. I even walked over to the vent on the other side of the room and yelled to see if anyone in the locker room for the other rink could hear me. Nothing.
I went back to making as big a ruckus as I could, figuring at some point someone had to come down that hall. And eventually they did. A maintenance guy stopped and tried to unlock it with his key, which did no good because it wasn't the deadbolt that was the problem. He told me to wait, and came back with ManlyDude from the front desk. I know ManlyDude from the league and from hanging around drinking after clinics, and he's always there when I go for my lessons. He called to me through the door and asked if the deadbolt was moving. I told him it was, but that the door still didn't open. "Okay," he said. "Move the deadbolt back and then get out of the way."
I did as instructed and waited. BLAM!!!!!!!! The door came flying open. I didn't want to admit it, but I was pretty freaked out. Still I laughed and thanked him. I guess next time I will bring my cell phone with me, so instead of hollering like a banshee for 10 straight minutes I can just call the front desk and let them know the Phantom locked me in... again.
Well, I think I'll stop referring to him that way, because sometimes payback's a bitch. He must have been hanging out under one of the benches when I was telling a friend about him, and overheard me. See, after my lesson today, I went into an empty locker room to shower, and locked the dead bolt on the door behind me. I was on the side where the figure skaters were using the ice, and they never use the locker rooms, so I had my choice. I picked the farthest one away from the lobby, just in case some of them decided they needed a place to hang their sequins while they strutted around.
I showered, dressed, did the hair and makeup thing, and went to leave. Only.... I couldn't. I turned the deadbolt back, pulled on the handle, and nothing happened. Ok, I thought, maybe the deadbolt didn't go all the way back. I tried it again. And again. I could see it move away from the door jamb but still my efforts to open the door were unrewarded. Feeling like an idiot, I banged on the door a few times, even though I knew there was no one around to hear me. I thought to myself, surely I'm not trapped in here.... But I was. I spent the next ten minutes or so furiously banging on the door and yelling my head off. I even walked over to the vent on the other side of the room and yelled to see if anyone in the locker room for the other rink could hear me. Nothing.
I went back to making as big a ruckus as I could, figuring at some point someone had to come down that hall. And eventually they did. A maintenance guy stopped and tried to unlock it with his key, which did no good because it wasn't the deadbolt that was the problem. He told me to wait, and came back with ManlyDude from the front desk. I know ManlyDude from the league and from hanging around drinking after clinics, and he's always there when I go for my lessons. He called to me through the door and asked if the deadbolt was moving. I told him it was, but that the door still didn't open. "Okay," he said. "Move the deadbolt back and then get out of the way."
I did as instructed and waited. BLAM!!!!!!!! The door came flying open. I didn't want to admit it, but I was pretty freaked out. Still I laughed and thanked him. I guess next time I will bring my cell phone with me, so instead of hollering like a banshee for 10 straight minutes I can just call the front desk and let them know the Phantom locked me in... again.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Wake me up
My apologies to anyone who actually reads this for pulling a disappearing act over the last month or so. Factors combined that left me less than inspired to write about goaltending. But, here I am again, lucky you. Even luckier for you, during my period of radio silence (web silence?), our team made it to the championship game against the hated rival team with 4 ringers.... and lost in overtime. It was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow and it took me a few days to get over it, as I felt at the time that it was entirely my fault. But I won't rehash it here, and for any team mates who are about to drop an anvil on my head, yes, I now recognize that it wasn't ALL my fault. Just mostly.
Regardless, not much has changed in terms of the rhythm of league games, open hockey, and lessons, except that all have slowed down slightly. We have had a long break between spring and summer league, since we start the summer season this week with a bye. Open hockey has been sporadic due to rink issues and lessons have been even more so. However- I did attend a goalie skating clinic a few weeks ago that was the hardest thing I've ever done in terms of physical exertion. I was in a little bit over my head- one of the drills was beyond my physical capability, and another one was too advanced for me but I muddled my way through it, determined not to quit on it. All the other drills I could handle, I just did them slightly slower than everyone else. At the end they took pity on us and gave us some shots- breakaway practice. Sweet. My coach ran the clinic, so I hope to talk to him about the one drill that was just above my level, because it was something I've been wanting to work on anyway. That might give me a good starting point... something like "so I'm sure you saw how horrendous my butterfly slides were at that clinic.... can we work on that?".
I did play open hockey twice this holiday weekend though. On Friday, when I got on the ice I wasn't really in my zone, and it was a very fast, very aggressive game. The kind I thrive on. Unfortunately I didn't really have much of a good showing in my first 20-minute shift. I was starting to get a little down about it when suddenly I took a high speed slapper square in the middle of my mask. Guys on the ice later described the sound as "a puck hitting a canteloupe". Fortunately, it hit me right at the bottom of the grill, and while it stunned me momentarily, the impact was dispersed throughout the helmet. Players crowded around to make sure I was ok, which I was, and after a moment or two to get my bearings we started playing again.
And I ruled. That shot snapped me out of my vague fog and I just felt so on for the rest of the time. I stoned a few guys on breakaways. I even managed a poke check and I successfully went after and corralled a puck against the boards and fed it back to my defenseman. My focus was so sharp after that, and my adrenaline was pumping. I told a friend who was there that the team would have to wing a few at my head in warmups. He scolded me and said "You don't have to be Henrik all the time"... alluding to a story I'd told him a while back about Henrik Lundqvist and his twin brother Joel.
I wish I could remember where I read it, because I'd give the site or magazine due credit. But I remember reading an interview with Joel where he said he always thought his brother played better when he was angry. And Joel knew Henrik just hated to be hit in the mask with the puck... so in typical brother fashion, when warming up before games (back in Sweden when they were on the same team), Joel would purposely fire a puck at his head to get him riled up. Awww, brotherly love, hockey style.
Regardless, not much has changed in terms of the rhythm of league games, open hockey, and lessons, except that all have slowed down slightly. We have had a long break between spring and summer league, since we start the summer season this week with a bye. Open hockey has been sporadic due to rink issues and lessons have been even more so. However- I did attend a goalie skating clinic a few weeks ago that was the hardest thing I've ever done in terms of physical exertion. I was in a little bit over my head- one of the drills was beyond my physical capability, and another one was too advanced for me but I muddled my way through it, determined not to quit on it. All the other drills I could handle, I just did them slightly slower than everyone else. At the end they took pity on us and gave us some shots- breakaway practice. Sweet. My coach ran the clinic, so I hope to talk to him about the one drill that was just above my level, because it was something I've been wanting to work on anyway. That might give me a good starting point... something like "so I'm sure you saw how horrendous my butterfly slides were at that clinic.... can we work on that?".
I did play open hockey twice this holiday weekend though. On Friday, when I got on the ice I wasn't really in my zone, and it was a very fast, very aggressive game. The kind I thrive on. Unfortunately I didn't really have much of a good showing in my first 20-minute shift. I was starting to get a little down about it when suddenly I took a high speed slapper square in the middle of my mask. Guys on the ice later described the sound as "a puck hitting a canteloupe". Fortunately, it hit me right at the bottom of the grill, and while it stunned me momentarily, the impact was dispersed throughout the helmet. Players crowded around to make sure I was ok, which I was, and after a moment or two to get my bearings we started playing again.
And I ruled. That shot snapped me out of my vague fog and I just felt so on for the rest of the time. I stoned a few guys on breakaways. I even managed a poke check and I successfully went after and corralled a puck against the boards and fed it back to my defenseman. My focus was so sharp after that, and my adrenaline was pumping. I told a friend who was there that the team would have to wing a few at my head in warmups. He scolded me and said "You don't have to be Henrik all the time"... alluding to a story I'd told him a while back about Henrik Lundqvist and his twin brother Joel.
I wish I could remember where I read it, because I'd give the site or magazine due credit. But I remember reading an interview with Joel where he said he always thought his brother played better when he was angry. And Joel knew Henrik just hated to be hit in the mask with the puck... so in typical brother fashion, when warming up before games (back in Sweden when they were on the same team), Joel would purposely fire a puck at his head to get him riled up. Awww, brotherly love, hockey style.
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