A little levity

This email was forwarded to me recently, and I figured this would be a good place to post it. Enjoy...

There are hundreds, possibly thousands, of managers across America who will spend the long weekend making personnel decisions in time for the September dawn of a new season. Granted, the majority of these managers are in charge of teams with names like "Old Puckers", "Rusty Blades", "Just the Tips" and "Nine-Inch Males," but don't be fooled; beer-league hockey squads can be downright tricky to put together. As with any successful organization, you need the right mix, and that means drafting from the following beer-league player categories:

Which one are you???

The Ringer
Some teams wait until the playoffs to unveil this option. Others go with it right from the opening face-off. Either way, without a ringer, your team is done. The challenge for managers is convincing a good player to suit up for a bad side. This can be accomplished a number of ways, including promises of goal-scoring glory and awe-inspired teammates. Most effective, however, is let him play for free. It's simple math, really. Everyone else pays an extra $50 and everyone else gets a shot at the "DD" Division title.

The Young Guy
At first glance, he can easily be mistaken for a ringer, since the young guy still wears the shorts and socks of his junior or college team. But it's time for the next phase of life now, and that means an office job. The young guy stays in shape for the first half of the year. Sadly, an increasingly sedentary existence and late night partying catches up to him by Christmas. 15 to 20 pounds later, he's just another player, huffing and puffing with the rest. Welcome aboard, kid.

The Old Guy
Forget the 50-and-over league; that's not for him...even though his gloves reach up to his armpits, and he still uses a wood stick. To be fair, the old guy can be an effective player, especially if he's a wily old guy - a hook here and a chop there, because that's how they did it when professional athletes were real men. "Eddie Shore -- now there was a hockeyplayer! Lost an ear against the Maroons. Sewed it back on himself. Never missed a shift."

The Tardy Goalie
Hey, thanks for showing up. Only five minutes gone in the first. Not like you play a crucial position or anything. Take your time, dickhead.

The Beginner
Required only for cheap laughs. On the one hand, you have to admire the beginner. It takes a lot of courage to buy all brand new equipment, and take up hockey in your 40's. On the other hand, learn to take a pass, man. It's right on your stick, for Christ's sake. How does that knock you over? And now you're friggin offside! Not to mention the Beginner shows up at every game, no matter what time or what day. Sunday night playoff game at 11PM - no worries, Mr Beginner will be there.

The Complete Psycho
Also good for a few giggles . . . from afar. Most likely a cop or fireman. The complete psycho is capable of anything: running the goalie, challenging an entire bench, a tomahawk chop -- all in the repertoire. Do not feed the complete psycho. He doesn't want to be fed. He wants to hunt. And, look to him to carry on his act in the bar after the game.

The Naked Guy
Bane of the dressing room. Most players have the courtesy to stretch their hamstrings while sporting, at the very least, a bit of underwear. Not the naked guy. He'll carry on full conversations, and you had better maintain eye contact like your life depended on it....or come face to face with the swinging sausage.

The Guy with the New Girlfriend
An excellent way to lower everyone else's fees is to load up on a few of these. The guy with the new girlfriend will show up to three games, tops, so his payment will contribute to everyone else's and it's not like you'll lose ice time by putting him on the roster. That said, beware that the guy with the new girlfriend might very well turn into the guy with the new wife...at which point he'll never miss another
game.

The Organizer
This guy is absolutely brutal but since nobody else could be bothered to do all the paperwork and collect the money he gets to play. Is frustrating to play with because they can barely skate let alone take a pass but nobody gets mad at him cuz he's a really nice guy. Is often heard in the dressing room saying 'Sorry guys, that one was my fault' and if he's lucky somebody will chip in something like 'No worries Donny, it's a team effort.' What everybody is really thinking is 'Hey Donny, my grandmother is a better player than you and yes you are right, that was your fault.' If you are lucky the Organizer is usually smart enough to take himself off the ice in critical situations.

The Minor Hockey Allstar
Looks promising at a glance as they fool you with reasonably good skills but after you get zero passes you'll get the picture. This guy topped out at 'AA' Midget and can be spotted by the huge blinders attached to his helmet. Play is characterized by energetic rushes down the wing, (no passing), then into the corner (still no pass), behind the net (hey dickhead I've been open for the past 5 minutes),then into the next corner (everybody has gone back to the bench to watch) followed by a blind give away pass to the high slot / break out pass for the other team. Cut this guy.

The Johnny Try Hard
Great to have on your team but they suck to play against because they have somehow managed to keep themselves in ridiculously good shape. They were probably the star on their high school hockey team and won athlete of the year because they played hockey, volleyball and track all in the same year. Guaranteed they have a membership at the 'Running Room'. Play is characterized by constant hustle which if caught off guard can embarrass the more talented yet fatter player.

The Stanley Cup Champion
This player will raise their hands and cheer when they score. If this is an opposing player you must nip this behaviour in the bud by catching him off guard with a sickening open ice hit that causes him to blow snot bubbles. If this player is on your team quickly chastise him in front of the other team to let them know that this is not how the rest of your team rolls. Remind him how much of a loser he is by retrieving the puck from the net the next time he scores and presenting it to him in front of the other team.

The Tough Guy
This guy maxed out at the house-league level, has never been in a fight and is characterized by antagonizing behaviour on the ice. In extreme cases he will 'cheap shot' another player. The fact that your beer league does not allow fighting has given this guy a false sense of courage. What this guy does not realize is that this will not prevent someone from knocking his teeth out if he cheap shots the wrong guy. There is a number of fun ways to handle this player which all end with him lying on the ice bleeding, looking for his teeth and crying.

The Wrong Guy
Not to be confused with 'The Complete Psycho'. This guy shows up, doesn't say much and pretty much flies under the radar screen. The kid that gave him the cheap shot him will eventually look his name up on Hockey DB after his facial surgery and realize he had 355 pims in the East Cost 3 years ago.

The Gary Roberts
Can be described as being way too intense. This guy is one of your better players but is unable to adjust to the lower level of play. At the best of times he will try to coach players on the fly and at the worst of times he will snap and call his entire team a bunch of house-leaguers. He believes the game should be played a certain way and despises 'pond hockey' style play with no back checking or positional
assignments. Most likely is suffering from a complex of 'unfinished business' from his previous hockey career and is looking to capture some shred of glory via the rec-league championship. This guy is probably better off playing with his own kind in a senior-A league.

CORPORATE GUY -
At first glance just a regular family guy, married with 3 kids, a cush corporate job and fancy car. Once he enters the locker room its Party time & latest tales of bangin' broads and the good times. PreGame beer and smoke, outrageous stories of hookers from last weekend in Vegas, to the point everyone is crying with laughter. This guy is Reg Dunlop (Slapshot) meets Chris Farley, raw-raw, kick their ass, run-up the score, the ref-beats-his-wife, non stop chatter on the bench. Has above average talent and knows it, but is more focused on making sure his teammates show up and enjoy themselves at the post game festivities at the Brass Pole Ballet, always carries an extra set of clothes in his trunk!


Ok... I've played with almost all of these guys. Thankfully I haven't run into Naked Guy yet- and all my team-mates can probably thank me for the fact that no one walks around the locker room displaying his wares. I obviously would classify myself as "The Beginner". It's definitely true that I show up at every game, no matter how late. "Tardy Goalie", my ass.

All's well that ends well?

I don't watch soap operas because I don't like "drama". I want to go out on the ice, play my game with my team, and concentrate on only that. Last night our instructional league team played in the semi-final against one of the two teams that's become a rival of sorts. There was a bit of drama surrounding the game because this is the team that has a lot of women on it, and our team contains a player who was originally put on their team, but caused such an obnoxious ruckus that he was moved to... you guessed it.... our team. I found it very ironic that he had a huge problem with playing with women and asked to be moved- and was moved to a team with not only a female goalie, but that female goalie is an integral part of the core of the team. I've since become acquainted with the rink staff member who put him on our team, and yes, she did that on purpose.

That's fine and makes for a great story. Except for the fact that she was the one who took the call and had to listen to the verbal spewage from this guy, so she had a bone to pick with him. She waited all season and decided that our playoff game would be the perfect time to dress and play on the "womens" team so she could teach him a lesson. I didn't feel it was fair to use our playoff game as a place to settle personal vendettas, but being the "fly under the radar" kind of person I am, I didn't say anything about it- at least not to anyone official. I bitched about it with some of the team-mates, who also felt it was unfair. I even asked her point blank what we had ever done to her, and she said not to worry, she wasn't going to be a "force" she was just out for a little revenge on this one guy. Whatever. I'm not in high school anymore so I let it go.

And she was right- she wasn't a force. And the other team had a very short bench so I suppose the case could be made that an extra player wasn't tipping the balance all that much. But just the fact that it went on at all irked me.

Bottom line though? We won. We played through a ridiculous third period with something like 9 straight minutes of short handed time due to a ref who called every slight and imagined infraction of ours against "the ladies", while letting similar fouls go on their end. We battled through the bullshit and came out on the other side with a win, and that's all that counts.

We're going to the championship game next week, against our other rivals, the team who beat us in OT last time. This season's incarnation of that team has slightly less ringers on it, but it's no less of a challenge. And it's one I'm up for. I'm out for revenge. I want to sit in the locker room next week with a bunch of happy team-mates and a can of shitty beer in my hand.

Bring it on.

I'm a rabid animal, and I need to be controlled

My 5'7", 16-year-old-boy-sized frame can be intimidating, I know. Especially to curmudgeonly 90-something-year-old refs who look like skating cadavers. It must be the vibrant life force that frightens them so. Even hardened ex-pros quake when I hit the ice. My foul language precedes me and they cower in terror.

Sarcasm aside, apparently I was a menace on the ice last night. I'd like to think it was because of my game (which, I must say, I think was pretty darn good... up until the end there. Again. Gotta work on that), but alas it was because of my mouth. Apparently hockey players don't swear. Yes I know, this is news to me too. Now, I'll admit I was in rare form last night, and for some reason let this ref really piss me off, to the point that after an 8-3 playoff win I was grouchy and full of the energy of unvented anger. I'll chalk it up to hormones and leave it at that. However, I still think this ref is an asshat.

The terrifying incident? After a goal that I still maintain should not have counted due to a crease violation/goalie interference, I looked up at the ref and said "how the f*** is that a goal?! He had his f***ing legs in between mine!" Ok. I'll admit. Not one of my smarter moves. At least I was just swearing in general and not swearing at him. That would have been rude. The ref looked at me and said "Ohhhh, goalie... you don't want a penalty do you?" Sensing acquiescence would be the smarter move here, I skated away, off to the corner boards to cool off. Only, when I turned around and skated back to my net, Dr Death was still standing there, waiting for me, and proceeded to lecture me. "That was incidental contact. It's the language I won't stand for." I think I deserve a medal (or a cookie, at least) for not rolling my eyes at him. He then skated over to the bench and told the coach for the night to "control your goalie". Oooh baby, look out. Potty-mouthed 'tender on the loose! Lock up your impressionable youngsters!

I don't care that he warned me. I don't even care that he lectured me. What really pissed me off was that I obviously conceded to him by skating away, and yet he stood there and waited for me to come back so he could have another 2 cents. Dipshit. Try not f***ing up an icing call, concentrate on that eh?

Oops. There I go again.

Votes of confidence

My lack of confidence in myself and my worry about what other people are thinking about me (read: narcissism) surfaced again this week when I filled in for a rival team in the instructional league. I got the call in the evening, and when I discovered who the team was that I'd be playing for, I got nervous. It was none other than the very same team who beat us in OT for the championship last season. More recently, this team beat us this season by a score of 6-4. So naturally, I figured as soon as they heard who their goalie would be, they'd all be thinking "Oh great. We've got her?!" I tried to tell myself that most of them wouldn't even know who I was, and the others probably couldn't tell you what the score was in the last game they played against me. Only goalies keep track of that stuff. (Well... goalies, and stat-mongers.)

And of course, I needn't have worried. Two of the guys on the team work at the rink and know me from our games and because I am there all the time. I got positive reactions from each of them when they saw me amble over to the rink from the "womens locker room". One said "Oh you're playing for us tonight? Cool, we finally got a good goalie." That, and chatting with some of the other players, put me in a much less nervous frame of mind. I went out and played a great game (for all but the last 2 minutes, when due to our 8 goal lead, all of us kind of lost focus), and the team was happy with me.

But really.... why did my first sub experience have to be for them?! Figures!

Movin' on up

The training wheels have come off the bike, ladies and gentlemen, and the ride was much smoother than I thought it would be. Things have a way of working out like that don't they?

The newly-formed Hawks took to the ice in our first D level game recently, and though I was expecting to be the whipping-boy of the league, it actually turned out that we played extremely well. So well, in fact, that we won 4-1. It was great playing with old team-mates again, and it was a lot of fun to play in a much faster paced game. But what really stood out to me was the amount of teamwork on the ice. For whatever reason, whether it's skill and experience, or just the personalities of the people on the instructional league team, we don't work as a team as much as we used to. This was different though. I saw people set each other up in the other end, passing back to the points (hallelujah!) and just in general being aware of who was open and getting the puck to them. And in my end, the defense was fantastic. Several times they just picked the puck off an opponent's stick, totally nullifying their chance at a shot. There were also a few instances when they completely saved my ass by swatting a loose puck (which I had yet to locate) out of the crease and up the boards to safety.

I personally also had a very good game. I didn't count the shots; I can't do that because it messes with my head. I don't want to be thinking about my save percentage during a game, I want to be in the zone. I think there were roughly 25 shots, give or take a few. And the one that beat me was a deflection off something... a skate or a knee, I didn't see clearly, but I definitely did see the puck suddenly change direction and angle. Other than giving up a few too many rebounds I was pretty happy with my game. Ok, I was really happy with it.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the season; I know we won't win every game, and I'm sure we'll get blown out in some. But now at least I know we can more than keep up with them. Bring on the next one.

I'll take the win

Our team won last night, but other than that the game wasn't much to write home about. I was doing my best impression of a big juicy rebound factory, and it cost us two goals. But, we managed to score 4, and that's what put the W on the board for us. I have to hand it to the other team; they only had two subs, compared to our full bench. They fought hard right up until the 4th goal, which seemed to take the wind out of their sails.

I don't know if it was me, or the fact that one of the refs was new, but it seemed like the icing calls were all kinds of screwed up. That threw me off a little. I also was doing a very poor job of getting the puck along the boards, which resulted in me not attempting it anymore. I hate that I make my D work so hard but I just can't get past this mental block. And that's what it is; I'm so afraid I'm going to screw up (as I have, horrifically, in the past) that it keeps me frozen in my crease. Just one more thing to work on, I guess. That's what open hockey is for...

...and I belch, too

I had a kick-ass game at open hockey today. I mean, I was in the zone. I was so in the zone that The Goaliebrain talked to me. It's been a while since I've heard from her. (Him? It? Does it matter?) See, I do my best to keep my regular brain busy/sedated while I play. If it wakes up it starts causing trouble. Either it over-analyzes what's going on, starts in with the negative self-talk, or just wanders off to places that have nothing whatsoever to do with the game and are just distracting. Like how you'd spell "Gretzky" in Cyrillic. I shit you not, that's what I was thinking about for a few minutes today when I was distracted. (In case you're curious, it would be: грэцки)

I use music/repetitive lyrics to lull my regular brain into sedation. It's during these times that The Goaliebrain talks to me. Most of the time she tells the muscles what to do without me hearing her. But today she was like a little drill sergeant in my head. I love it when that happens. It means I know what I'm doing. I had an opposing player a few feet in front of me (out of poke check range, but pretty close) all alone with the puck. I don't remember the exact play that lead up to that but I think he got it from a pass, because I just got into position in front of him as he received the puck. Goaliebrain barked at me "Blocking butterfly! There's no time!" Boom. Down I went into a nice tight butterfly and the shot bounced harmlessly off me and I smothered it. It's different than thinking. I didn't think "Ok, I don't have enough time to read the shot off the stick and he's real close in, so a blocking butterfly would be best here". Its like it came from somewhere else, but still inside me- instant knowledge.

So, I was really rolling. (There was a brief period where I did my best impression of a sieve and no its wasn't when I was spelling Gretzky's name in my head). Apparently I impressed one particular defenseman. He was quite the chatterbox. At one point one of his buddies on the opposing team semi-whiffed a shot and I stopped it easily. He said to me, loud enough for his buddy to hear "Tell him that the girls in your women's league have better shots than that." To which I responded, with mock (mostly) testiness; "I don't play on the women's league."

After that we had a few other short and friendly exchanges. It was after I gave esteemed reader and commenter "#48" a few good shoves from behind for being in my crease, that this guy came over, cleared him out, and then turned to me and told me I was a hockey player's dream woman, being out there and hustling like that.

D-man: Do you drink beer too?

Me: Hell yeah.

D-man: Damn. If I get divorced will you marry me?

Me: I'm already married.

D-man: Ok. If we both get divorced will you marry me?

I figure, sure.... if he can put up with The Goaliebrain.