On The Road Again

Ever since I was about 5 years old, my family has been making annual pilgrimages to Cape Cod for a week in the summer. My mom's side of the family is from there, so we have a big 'ol reunion every year. It's a blast. One year, when my sister and I were still living at home in the summers, during our college years, we had to take two cars because my Dad had to leave halfway through the week to go to work. My parents were in one car, my sister and I were in the other. It was the mobile equivalent of the "kids' table" at Thanksgiving dinner. That trip remains to this day one of the best in my memory.

One thing that made it especially memorable was our method of communication between the two cars. My Dad had the brilliant idea to purchase a set of walkie-talkies. They were clearly intended to be nothing more than toys, as they were both bright yellow plastic, one with a red knob on the end of the antenna, the other with a yellow one. They didn't work unless the cars were very close to each other, and to conserve battery life, we left them switched off until we needed to communicate. The signal to turn your walkie-talkie on was someone from the other car waving their walkie-talkie out the window. It was nothing short of fantastic.

Fast forward holy crap is it really something like 20 years- and Flipper (@lct29) The Mayor and GoalieHusband and I are on our way up to a tournament in Massachusetts.  Flipper and The Mayor are in one car, and GoalieHusband and I are following behind. Cell phones have eliminated the need for ridiculous walkie-talkie displays out the car windows, but the content of the messages wasn't much more mature. In response to an "Are we there yet????" text, The Mayor proceeded to text us every two miles to tell us how many more miles of the trip were yet to be traveled. There were also several Beavis & Butthead-esque exchanges, as well as lots of speculation as to where exactly my hands were, if they weren't both on the steering wheel.

I'm not sure I believe in coincidences, but let's just pretend for a moment- by coincidence, my sister happened to call just as we were heading up I-495. I told her where we were, and that I'd been thinking about that trip we made up to the Cape so many years ago. She laughed and said "Oh, the time we were rocking out in the car the entire time?" Yep. That was the other thing that made it so memorable. A complete performance of Bohemian Rhapsody at as high a decibel level as that 1995 Neon would allow.

So here we are. Relaxing for a bit before heading over to the rink for our first game, which is at 9:40. We're aiming to get there early, so we have time to check in, and oggle all the gift baskets available for "auction". (It's a tricky-tray type thing.) I just remembered that last year there were several Bruins baskets. One of them had several Tuukka-signed items in it. I bought tickets for it, but didn't win. If there is anything even remotely Tuukka-associated this year, I'm buying butt-loads of tickets for it. That puppy will be MINE.

Time to log off for now... lines are being arranged, and I have to bring my jersey in from the balcony over the pool where I hung it the minute we got here.

GO CATS!!!

Witty Comebacks, and Women's Locker Rooms

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Autopilot (warning: navel-gazing ahead)

I hate "abandoning" my blog. Especially after something like the "goaliespeak" post, which (so far) has had 206 hits. Up 'til then I think the most hits a post has had has been around 35, so although I am somewhat ashamed to admit it, that made me feel a little proud that so many people found their way to the blog, and apparently stuck around, if the uptick in hits on other posts is any indication. I briefly considered making it a point to write something every day, so as not to lose anyone's attention. But I like keeping it real, and if I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say.

Particularly during times like these. I find that any time I start to succumb to stress, my natural instinct is to head for cover. Facebook, Twitter, my goalie message board, even blogging all seem overwhelming. I know I've alluded to it here a few times, but things at work are downright awful. I've been with this company for 15 years, and started here straight out of college. I don't know any other job or industry. Many of these people, though I do bitch about them, are like a fucked up extended dysfunctional family in some ways. And just over a month ago, we entered Chapter 11 as part of the process of being acquired by another company. It's been bad here for a long time, but never this bad. There was a round of layoffs last week, with another looming this week. We no longer exist as a company but we haven't been purchased by anyone yet. This extended period of limbo, of not knowing who will get to stay and who will be cut loose, is extremely trying for all of us. Coming to the office every day gets harder and harder when you have nothing to do and no direction and no word from anyone, but know bad news is coming at some point. That my paycheck actually hits my bank account on payday is no small miracle, and for that I am very thankful.

As a result I have been running on autopilot lately. It's gotten progressively worse over the last week or so. The only way to get through it (other than drinking heavily, which I will not allow myself to succumb to) is to just numb out. That, and live from hockey game to hockey game, though I have to admit after the final week of 5 times on the ice in 6 days, I may be a tad burned out. BUT.... the Cougars have a game tonight, and a tournament is a mere four days away. I've managed to shake myself free of the inertia enough to focus on those things and enjoy what I can. It took me until just this afternoon to come to that realization. Maybe it's the Buddhist CD I'm listening to in the car. Maybe it's my brain finally screaming awake after a period of being zoned out. Whatever it is, I'm back. At least for a few days. And I SWEAR, this time I will blog the tournament as it happens. I know, I know, I say that every time. But I have to really do it. There are so many funny little details that get left out when I do a post-tournament wrap-up. It should be an interesting experiment.

So..... LET'S GO COUGAR(HAWK)S!!!! This is a playoff game. (I know! Already???!) This season went far too quickly and I'm going to miss playing with these idiots next season, so I know I have to grab hold while I can. BOO. YAH.

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.

Wait.... it's over???? Already?!?

I still can't get over how quickly this season went. The QCats played our final game on Saturday, a win in which I saw 15 shots if I was lucky. Our unofficial record for the season is 12-5-5. That is pretty damn satisfying. We have one practice left, which GoalieHusband and @hkygrl12 have promised will be "fun", but will not reveal any other details. We're all hoping that "fun" means "no Herbies".

We have tournaments lined up for the whole off-season, and I'm definitely looking forward to them, but it's still a little sad for the season to be ending. We're going to feel pretty aimless the next few Sundays, with no games to hurry off to. I guess we can probably fill the void with firepit gatherings and other warm-weather type stuff. (Yuck. Warm weather.)

Fortunately, being the hockey whore I am, I am impacted a little less than the rest of my teammates, since Cougar(hawk)s games go year round. We've got another matinee tonight, and then a game at 11pm tomorrow night. We've also learned that several regular Cougar members are coming back for the Spring session, so our Cougar-Hawk blend is going to have to part ways since there isn't enough room for all of us on the same team. It's too bad, because this team has some pretty good chemistry. But, GoalieHusband and the other Hawks and I are already working on forming a team of our own. It looks like we'll even have a few QCats on the roster. We're tossing around the idea of calling ourselves the Hawks again, and busting out the snazzy yellow jerseys we all bought. More on that in the coming weeks.

On the NHL front, I'm still extremely mopey about Rask being hurt, so I went searching on Youtube for the pre-game interview he did on NESN last week. My perusing also revealed a nifty little video that I watched out of mild curiosity, but which ended up with a huge "A-HA!!!" moment. Bless Tuukka's crazy little Finnish heart, he solved my slimy-glove problem! (Ok, technically I guess his trainer solved it. Tomato, tomahto.)

Shootouts everywhere

I neglected to write about any games  last week mostly because I was busy sulking about them. There were three, a loss and two ties. The first game was last Friday night, the first of the Quarry Cats' two final home games, and we played a team that is more of a C/D mix than a true D team. We lost 5-2 and that was pretty darn good for the competition we were up against. My post-game locker room expletive-filled rant about one particular ref notwithstanding, it actually wasn't too bad morale-wise. We all knew we  played decently against a much  better team.

The next game was a tie, and that one actually felt more like a loss than the one before it. We were up 4-2 and with about 3 minutes to go the other team scored not once, but twice, to tie the game. We asked the refs for a shootout, and they gave us what seems to be the rink standard: a 5-man shootout. (Not sure what's up with that). Unfortunately, although I turned away the first 3 shooters, the next two found their mark, and we had two goals out of 3 as well. The refs wouldn't give us any more shooters so we ended in a tie. Not sure what the point of the shootout is then... but ok. Everyone (myself included) was kind of ticked at letting that one get away.

We had Sunday off and then on Monday night the Cougar(hawk)s were back in action for another matinee. (For my new readers, in our world, "matinee" means basically "any time before 9 pm") I don't feel I played my best game, even though two goals were complete screens. I'm supposed to have those anyway, right? Have to learn to find the puck no matter where it is, etc, etc. Fortunately we managed to tie that one up in the last few minutes, in mirror image to the QCat game two nights before; we were down 4-2 and tied it 4-4. UNfortunately, for whatever reason the refs didn't see fit to give us a shootout. Both I and the other goalie stayed in our nets at the final buzzer, and teams milled about waiting for a shootout, but one ref skated to the benches and said "That's it, you're done", much to everyone's chagrin. I can't say for sure but it may have something to do with the fact that it had gotten juuuuust a little chippy at the end there, with one particular guy from the other team really ticking off several of our players. (He really was a grade A d-bag).

So, from that wholly unsatisfying hockey weekend into a week full of work drama, stress (oh the life of a Chapter 11 proceeding), and germs. Yes, for the third time this winter I've come down with a cold. At least this time it seems to be a minor one. I was supposed to  be off on Thursday but ended up working 6 of the more stress-filled hours I've had in my 15 years there, and was banking on the fact that when I woke up the next morning I'd feel better, and not worse. Good thing that was the case, because we had a morning game out in Westchester, NY.

GoalieHusband drove my germy ass and The Mayor to the rink, and I wasn't at all confident that I'd be able to stop much more than the most non-threatening of shots. I told the team beforehand that the game plan was "keep the puck in their zone" because not only was I sick, but I was having some kind of odd issue with my pads sticking to the ice (this later resolved itself). Bless my teammates, because they listened. I've never seen a better forechecking game than ours today. The puck was rarely in our zone at all, and when it was the D was sound. I didn't count shots but I couldn't have seen more than 15. The lone goal against came on a breakaway that I normally would have had in my sleep. I challenged, my angle was fine, but I just didn't react, and she beat me blocker side. Thankfully, we tied it up in the next period and the score stood at 1-1, even through the OT period they allotted us. With plenty of time left, they allowed us to go to a shootout. My teammates had to be a little nervous about that, knowing I was sick, and that I'd allowed that crappy breakaway goal. But by then I had my head on straight and I knew I could do my part.

We scored first, then their first shooter came in, went to the left, and shot towards the right. She thought she had me, too, until I flicked out my right leg like a snake's tongue and kicked her puck to the corner. Their goalie made the save on our next shooter, and then I got a freebie when their shooter completely flubbed it and didn't even get a shot off. Again our next shooter was denied, and their next one came at me pretty straight, but made a series of odd moves with her stick blade, above the puck. Really? Did she think I'd bite on that? SAVE.

That win felt good, because I'd felt pretty crappy about giving up that goal, after all that time spent in the other team's end. I've spent most of the rest of the day chilling (and fielding panicked calls from work), and I feel a million times better tonight than I did last night. Which is good, because we have to do it all over again tomorrow morning. We'll be in Bridgewater for our final game of the season. I can not believe that it is March freakin' 16th, and our season is over tomorrow. This season absolutely FLEW by.

No matter, though, because we have TOURNAMENT SEASON right around the corner, and plenty of Cougar(hawk)s games left to play. One on Monday and one on Tuesday, to be exact. And then our final practice on Wednesday. So that's five times on the ice in 6 days. I think I can live with that.

BOO YAH.

The Rage of the Seraphs

Pre-game music. It's heavy, driving, and pumps you up, right? Unless you're me. Listening to my pre-game mix, GoalieHusband just shakes his head. One thing I've discovered along the way is that there is only one prequisite for a good pre-game song: it has to speak to me. As a result, my pre-game mix is all over the place. I've got a few Disturbed songs on there, which is pretty normal. But that's where the resemblance to anyone else's pre-game mix ends. The rest of mine are songs that at some point, while driving to the rink have struck a chord with me (see what i did there?) and have resonated ever since. That's how I ended up with this song on my mix:


[Note: Rogue, I love ya, but I'm pretty sure the plural of "seraph" is "seraphim". Just sayin. Poetic license granted.]

One night on the way to the rink, it came up on my ipod, and I just felt like I was soaring. And in the game I felt like a creature that would unfurl huge wings and guard the net. So, on the mix it went. One night recently while carpooling with The Mayor and listening to my mix, I blurted out when this song came on "I love this song! It makes me feel like a flaming seraph with giant wings in front of my net!" This, as you might imagine, resulted in an awkward silence and then gales of laughter from The Mayor. Which spawned an entire imaginary conversation with a ref: "'Uhhhhh.... why is your goalie on fire?' 'Oh don't mind her, that's just her flaming seraphim'. 'Well can you tell her to knock it off, the ice is melting' "

That's what I get for using my outside voice. I'm even a little embarassed to be admitting something this goofy to the entire Interwebz, but I'll take one for the team, because it's at least midly entertaining. And you know what, bitches? That's the night I got the shutout. I guess I know what's getting painted on my mask, should I ever have money I don't know what to do with.