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.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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...
Friday, November 16, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
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
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
Monday, October 29, 2007
I have to get over myself
What plagues me in life apparently also follows me onto the rink; namely, that everyone's thinking bad things about me all the time. That would require that people were thinking about me at all, and to assume that others are thinking about you constantly is a little narcissistic. This works great because I get to beat myself up on two counts; for performing badly, and for being narcissistic and thinking people care so much about my performing badly.
During my lesson today I had a bit less energy than last week, for whatever reason, and found myself exhausted and gasping quite easily. But because I wanted to show an earnest effort, I just pushed through it. My coach keeps a good eye on me and tells me to "take a few seconds" when he sees me getting overly winded, so I think he knows I'm doing my best. I am 33, and though I'm in pretty good shape, it's not like I've been involved in sports or belonged to a gym or run marathons all my life, so this is something new for my body to get used to. I've also never had instruction geared completely towards me, for a full hour. Practices with team-mates, or clinics all are just more intense examples of game situations; i.e. I'm not expending energy constantly for the entire 60 minutes. I've never skated out. So I have no idea what it's like to race up and down the ice at full throttle for a minute straight. But I bet it's somewhat comparable to a sustained attack on net, where I'm constantly flexed in my crouch, moving, dropping, getting up, kicking, moving, pushing, setting up. I think goalies probably expend the same amount of energy, just in shorter bursts, and in a different way.
Man, I got off track there.
But anyway, that was the logical side of my brain talking. No matter that my coach said I've been doing well, I still have this feeling that in the back of his mind he's kind of rolling his eyes and thinking "what do I even do with this one?". Or smirking at me. Most of the time I can just tell that part of my brain to just shut up. But there's another coach who's on the ice at the same time as us, and usually he's done before we are, so he'll help out at the end with drills. I'll call this guy... Johnson. I know Johnson from the league we play in; he shares rotating coaching duties, and runs some of the clinics. He's known as being somewhat of a hardass, as some of my team-mates have had less than positive experiences with him behind the bench. I personally have never had any problem with him, and whenever I play open hockey and he's there, he's always really cool with me, even gives me pointers now and then (he plays D). Johnson's kid never showed up today, so he worked with us a little more than usual. And at one point I was just struggling. Coach was taking shots on me rapid-fire, and he wanted me to go down to block each one, and then get back up, and go down for the next one, etc. It was really taxing and by the last few I was in complete slow-motion. Johnson was just standing there watching and I felt so inadequate. For some reason I really want him to think well of me. What I have to understand is that it doesn't matter what Johnson or anyone else thinks (except maybe my coach)- if they're even thinking anything at all. What matters is the effort I put in and what I get out of it. But I just can't help feeling really small and silly and somewhat ridiculous at times. For all I know, the people who I think are judging me are thinking about that chick they met last night, or that problem they've got at work, or how to get the dog to stop chewing their shoes.
But that's a goalie, right? Always thinking its all about them. ;)
During my lesson today I had a bit less energy than last week, for whatever reason, and found myself exhausted and gasping quite easily. But because I wanted to show an earnest effort, I just pushed through it. My coach keeps a good eye on me and tells me to "take a few seconds" when he sees me getting overly winded, so I think he knows I'm doing my best. I am 33, and though I'm in pretty good shape, it's not like I've been involved in sports or belonged to a gym or run marathons all my life, so this is something new for my body to get used to. I've also never had instruction geared completely towards me, for a full hour. Practices with team-mates, or clinics all are just more intense examples of game situations; i.e. I'm not expending energy constantly for the entire 60 minutes. I've never skated out. So I have no idea what it's like to race up and down the ice at full throttle for a minute straight. But I bet it's somewhat comparable to a sustained attack on net, where I'm constantly flexed in my crouch, moving, dropping, getting up, kicking, moving, pushing, setting up. I think goalies probably expend the same amount of energy, just in shorter bursts, and in a different way.
Man, I got off track there.
But anyway, that was the logical side of my brain talking. No matter that my coach said I've been doing well, I still have this feeling that in the back of his mind he's kind of rolling his eyes and thinking "what do I even do with this one?". Or smirking at me. Most of the time I can just tell that part of my brain to just shut up. But there's another coach who's on the ice at the same time as us, and usually he's done before we are, so he'll help out at the end with drills. I'll call this guy... Johnson. I know Johnson from the league we play in; he shares rotating coaching duties, and runs some of the clinics. He's known as being somewhat of a hardass, as some of my team-mates have had less than positive experiences with him behind the bench. I personally have never had any problem with him, and whenever I play open hockey and he's there, he's always really cool with me, even gives me pointers now and then (he plays D). Johnson's kid never showed up today, so he worked with us a little more than usual. And at one point I was just struggling. Coach was taking shots on me rapid-fire, and he wanted me to go down to block each one, and then get back up, and go down for the next one, etc. It was really taxing and by the last few I was in complete slow-motion. Johnson was just standing there watching and I felt so inadequate. For some reason I really want him to think well of me. What I have to understand is that it doesn't matter what Johnson or anyone else thinks (except maybe my coach)- if they're even thinking anything at all. What matters is the effort I put in and what I get out of it. But I just can't help feeling really small and silly and somewhat ridiculous at times. For all I know, the people who I think are judging me are thinking about that chick they met last night, or that problem they've got at work, or how to get the dog to stop chewing their shoes.
But that's a goalie, right? Always thinking its all about them. ;)
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Exploring new territory
On Friday night, a bunch of us went to a different rink than usual for open hockey. The one we'd been going to has canceled open hockey on account of all the school teams that need ice time. I'm all for youth hockey but come on, don't they teach about sharing any more? Argh. Anyway, the end result was that this rink was the only one in the immediate area with any open hockey that night. Fortunately, it wasn't flooded with goalies. In fact, I was the only one. It was, however, flooded with skaters. There were probably about 6 guys on each bench at all times. It didn't seem to be too bad though, because it seemed like the skaters were rotating pretty evenly. I hope everyone got a good amount of ice time.
I had an absolute blast. Besides several of my team-mates, there were a lot of guys there I'd never played with before. Many of them were very, very good. A few had shots so fast they were barely visible. One even plays in the ECHL. Fortunately, I think I had a pretty good game. I made a few of those saves that I have "no business making", and it felt really, really good to rob those guys. One was a glove save on a rebound that I'd initially stopped with my left pad (breakaway) but he got to it and flipped it up but I snatched it right out of the air. Another was a flurry in a forest of skates and legs where I made about four saves and ended up on my stomach before finally smothering it. Both benches erupted in a storm of stick-banging, and I couldn't help the big grin that was on my face.
Oh, I made my share of mistakes, and had my share of bad goals. But I was very glad to know that I could at least keep my head above water and have fun, rather than having that sinking "I don't belong here" feeling. It was a more physical game than I'm used to, and I got bumped around a bit more than usual, but I actually didn't mind it. I will definitely go back next week. It would be really nice if there's only one other goalie there most weeks. I really hate having to take shifts in the net. That probably won't happen, with the other rinks closing down their open hockey, but a goalie can dream...
I had an absolute blast. Besides several of my team-mates, there were a lot of guys there I'd never played with before. Many of them were very, very good. A few had shots so fast they were barely visible. One even plays in the ECHL. Fortunately, I think I had a pretty good game. I made a few of those saves that I have "no business making", and it felt really, really good to rob those guys. One was a glove save on a rebound that I'd initially stopped with my left pad (breakaway) but he got to it and flipped it up but I snatched it right out of the air. Another was a flurry in a forest of skates and legs where I made about four saves and ended up on my stomach before finally smothering it. Both benches erupted in a storm of stick-banging, and I couldn't help the big grin that was on my face.
Oh, I made my share of mistakes, and had my share of bad goals. But I was very glad to know that I could at least keep my head above water and have fun, rather than having that sinking "I don't belong here" feeling. It was a more physical game than I'm used to, and I got bumped around a bit more than usual, but I actually didn't mind it. I will definitely go back next week. It would be really nice if there's only one other goalie there most weeks. I really hate having to take shifts in the net. That probably won't happen, with the other rinks closing down their open hockey, but a goalie can dream...
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