Overdue...

See, I warned you about the burn-out. This post is now quite anti-climatic but I feel an obligation to write it so I can get on with more current posts. Plus, I threw that teaser in the last post, and I'd really be an asshole if I didn't come through on that.

After our first game that Sunday, which was at 9am, we knew we'd be in the final, which wasn't until 3:30. Flipper and I had already checked out of our hotel room, so we made a Dunkin Donuts run, came back and hung around in the rink snack bar for a bit, browsed the pro shop, and eventually went out to her car to have a snooze. We put the seats back, and ended up chatting like little girls at a sleepover for about an hour. Pretty soon though, we were lulled by the relentlessly pounding rain and both fell asleep for a good long while. Much needed, let me tell you.

We were one of the first ones in the locker room, as usual, and as players started filtering in, it was obvious everyone was already tired. We were pumped though, excited at the challenge of meeting up with the youngin's again. We were awfully amused at their age, which couldn't have averaged much more than 17, and one of the gals quipped: "Most of them probably haven't even had their period yet!" to which someone else responded "Yeah, and some of us don't have our period anymore!!!" The entire room lost it. Well, except for our own two youngins, a pair of 18 year olds who have come on other tournaments with us. I think it's a fair assumption to say they were horrified.

And here's where goldfish-brain kicks in. The details of the game at this point, I'm embarrassed to admit, are somewhat cloudy. I remember going up early, and the score staying at 2-1 for quite some time. Then they tied it, and it seemed like it stayed that way for an absolute eternity. I was wondering if we'd have another OT and shootout like we had in Ithaca, but with just a few minutes left, they started taking penalty after penalty, and we scored not once, but twice more. It was a very close game though. I played very well- I seem to play better with each game in these tournaments, almost like I'm saving my best for last. I'm not sure how that happens, but it does. Maybe the more exhausted I get, the better I play.

When the final buzzer blew, there had been a scrum in tight and I had just gotten to the puck to cover it. The horn sounded, and the girls on the other team let out a whoop and holler and hugged each other. I was momentarily confused. That 4-2 on the scoreboard was in our favor, right? Did I miss something? I'm not entirely sure what that celebration was all about but I cared for about three tenths of a second, and then I was swarmed with happy teammates. There are a few things as a goalie that just sort of define elation. One is the thunder of teammates' sticks against the boards in appreciation of a great save, and another is the pile-up at the end of a win as big as this one. It felt so great to be able to beat those kids.

Lined up on the blue line, awaiting our medals and trophy, we were all smiles. Well, we were until I embarrassed the hell out of Flipper. The announcer had asked who the captain was, and since our captain hadn't been able to make the trip, she and the other alternate looked at each other, each wanting the other to do the honors. Finally Flipper decided to go, and at the same time I turned to clap her on the back of the shoulder, which is when she tripped over my pad and did a faceplant on the ice. I. Felt. Awful. The ref even quipped "ok, not her". Oof. Yeah, with a bunch of cameras there, no one saw that. Not at all. Sorry, Flipper!!! You can trip me next time ok?

We got a nice shiny trophy, and each got pretty snazzy "gold" medals. And I was awarded the MVP puck for our team. Wow. I was really honored. And it's a pretty cool puck, too, because it has a mini plaque on it that says "Summer Sizzler 2011 MVP" or something to that effect. We took about a zillion pictures on the ice, and when we got back into the locker room I updated FB immediately: "could die of happiness right now". (Hey, family and friends were following along at home. I had to post right away. Don't call me an addict.)

Not a bad way to end "tournament season" at all.

Burnout? ...and overdue Tournament Blog

I'm finding that I am increasingly less inspired to blog than I used to be. I don't know if maybe it's burnout, but it seems like all my posts are the same. With this latest tournament, I have lots of cool things to write about, but it feels like it's just going to be the same post as all my other tournament posts have been. Maybe the key is writing more in the moment, rather than a few days after the fact. Maybe it's the fact that I update Twitter and Facebook in "real time" that makes me feel like writing a blog about it is old news. Regardless, I need to write about this one before much more time goes by.

I was looking forward to this tournament with a lot more anticipation than some of the others. I think it might be because it was our last one of the "season", and because I knew my sister was bringing her family to come watch me play. We also had the added excitement of facing the ringer team from our last tournament, the team we were supposed to have played in the championship game that was cancelled because of compressor malfunction.

Most tournaments we've done have had games stretched over two and a half days; Friday through Sunday. This one squeezed the same number of games into a much shorter time span. Our first game was on Saturday at 1pm, and our final (fourth) game ended up being at 3:30 pm on Sunday. There's something about the compressed schedule that made it a little more exciting as well, although it was also exhausting. It's Tuesday and I'm still recovering.

I just had a good feeling about this tournament from the start, despite the fact that it changed from a "C/D" level of competition to a "B/C/D" level. It seemed odd to all of us that they'd combine such a wide range of skills, but I think it was because they didn't have enough teams to create more than one division. Fortunately we had quite a decent mix on our roster as well, and thought we'd be pretty competitive. I think we were all looking forward to our first game, against the "ringer team" that had beaten us 9-1 in the previous tournament. Going in with a few ringers of our own, we figured we had a chance to at least give them a better fight this time around. Even so, I think we mostly expected to lose, and decided we might as well wear our red jerseys and get some use out of them.

Color us all kinds of surprised when we ended up beating them 4-3. It was a good close game, and in all fairness, they didn't have the exact same team and neither did we. They were missing one or two of their flashy end-to-enders, and we had some reinforcements from the C team. It was a good game, and we were elated to not only have beaten them, but have gotten the stink off our red jerseys.

For our next game, the second of the day, we were up against a team we'd played last year. I was looking forward to this game almost as much as I was to the first game, because for this one we were going to have fans. My sister and brother in law live about an hour from where we were playing, and they brought my nieces (ages 7 and 4) to see us play. I was ecstatic. I was even happier when we scored first, since given the wide range of competition level I wasn't sure if we'd be blown out in front of my family or not. That first goal took a little tiny bit of pressure of me (in my own mind). Unfortunately, they scored three quick ones right after that. I'm pretty sure all three of them were by the same player, one who apparently had a knack of making me look like a traffic cone. Very frustrating goals. It became apparent very quickly during the game that the average age of these players was somewhere around 18, at a very generous guess.

Toward the end of the 3rd period the score was 5-6, and they took a delayed penalty. I sprinted (as much as a goalie can sprint...) to the bench and the door was barely closed before everyone erupted in cheers. I whooped and hollered and I think I may have actually jumped up and down a little. Nothing like a tying goal with about a minute to go! I went back out to my net, but we couldn't manage a complete comeback. Still, a tie against what amounted to a U19 team felt like a pretty sweet win to all of us.

When I came off the ice to greet my family, my nieces were shy about coming up to me. "Go give her a hug", my sister prompted. I knelt down to make it easier, and the older one observed "it's really hard to hug you!", her arms barely making it around my chest protector. They were very enamored with my gear, and when I asked to pose for a picture with them, they insisted on each holding one of my sticks. My brother in law took what I think might be the most adorable picture on the entire planet:




The five of us went out for a bite to eat afterwards, and it was good to see them all, even if the girls were a little punchy due to it being WAY past their bedtime. But they weren't the only ones staying up late. After my sister dropped me back at the hotel, I figured @lct29 and I would call it a night pretty early, given our hectic day and our 9:00 ice time the next morning. I should have known it wasn't going to work out that way. Naturally we all ended up crowded into one room, yapping and laughing and playing drinking games. We had our college girls with us again, and they obliged me when I requested we play the game they taught us at the last tournament. Only about half of us played, but the other half had just as much fun watching us make idiots of ourselves. By 1:30 though I was ready to go, knowing we had to be up early the next day. I think @lct29 was ready way before that, but she waited for me to finish the game. (For the record, we have discovered that we make excellent roommates, and I think it's a pretty much foregone conclusion that if the QCats are on the road, we're rooming together. Yay for awesome roomies.)

Once again, I've rambled on far too long, so I will stop here and save the last two games for another post. Here's a teaser for you: our final game was against the "U19 team", which generated possibly the best locker room quote in the history of tournaments.

Out of the Mouths of Geezers...

My body seems to really be appreciating this brief hockey hiatus. In the mean time, just in case you all were missing me and my babbling (admit it, you were), I figured I'd come share two things of mild interest. Neither is hockey related, but the first thing potentially could have been. I guess I just really can't stay away from hockey, because even though I said I was going to take another week off, when I got back from vacation I started thinking "hmmm... maybe I'll go to open hockey on Wednesday". And then I fell down the stairs.

Nothing's injured, but I have a bruise that as it grows is almost covering my entire butt cheek. Sunday morning, I woke up and wanted a glass of water, so I got out of bed. Our stairs are carpeted, but the steps themselves are kind of short, so both GoalieHusband and I have slipped on occasion. We've always caught ourselves though. Not this time. My right foot went out from under me and although I grabbed for the railing and, missing that, put my arms and feet out to try to break my fall, I bounced down several steps on my left butt cheek. Really, really hard. I landed in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, and almost passed out. I could tell nothing was broken, given how I landed, but holy crap, that pain was worse than when I broke my knee. I lucked out. I could have really done some damage if I'd landed differently. Fortunately I'm just left with this ENORMOUS bruise, which is really gross in kind of a cool way, and the following day had some back and neck pain I guess from bracing myself. So yeah, I decided not to jump right back into hockey and wait until the end of the week as originally planned. Message received, Universe. Loud and clear.

And the second thing, which is what really prompted me to open up this window in my browser and start typing: I work with this older gentleman who is in his early 70's. Yes, his 70's. He's spry and with-it and funny as hell. He's got more money than God but he keep working because he likes what he does. He gets up early every morning to work out and stretch. And unlike most people his age, he embraces and works very well with all the latest technology. We've worked together for almost 15 years, so when he emailed me yesterday and misspelled my name, I just had to bust his chops about it. He replied "I was just using the short version. You know... the twitter way."

I was sitting here at my desk wondering if it could really be possible that he had a twitter account. It didn't seem likely, but I sure wouldn't put it past him. And something about that amused the hell out of me. As I was sitting here pondering what kind of things he would tweet, if he was on twitter, he stopped by my office and asked how I liked his response. I laughed and said it was good, and he then left no doubt it my mind that he in fact does not have a twitter account.

"I was twitting, see? Actually," (adorable geezer laughter) "I had to ask my wife how to even spell twitter!"

It's too bad really. He'd blow that stupid "shit my dad says" account out of the water. Maybe I'll start a campaign to get him on there. The world needs more old geezer humor.

Catching up

I'm writing from the beach. I love the ocean but I'm not a typical beach person- I hate the sun and the crowds, but every year my family rents this cottage on the shore and I can sit inside if I have too much sun, and listen to the crashing of the waves and relax. Most years I'm fidgety because I'm missing hockey. One year we even left in the middle of the week to drive back home and play, and come back.

But not this year. This year, I sorely need this break. Maybe I've been making up for lost time since I broke my knee, but I've been going at full tilt. Hawks games, open hockey, five tournaments, rent-outs, subbing here and there, and keeping up with training when I can - I'm exhausted. I haven't written since that ridiculous foggy game, but since then we had another "Goat Rodeo", a Hawks game, I subbed for @gionta182's team, and we just finished a tournament, sort of.

The Hawks game, the final one of the season, was a 6-0 loss, but one after which we all felt really good. Sounds crazy, right? But as with most games, the score doesn't tell the whole ("hole") story. We went up against a team that was undefeated, the team that's moving up to the next division. A whole week ago now, I can't remember exactly how many skaters we had, but it wasn't many. Nine at the most? They had a full bench. And we lost 6-0 but every single person on the team left absolutely every last ounce of energy and will on the ice. I've never seen us so satisfied after a loss that lopsided, and it was well deserved.

Two days later I subbed for gionta182, and her team also was very short on players. And I was short on mojo. Big time. I had probably the worst game I've had in about two years... I can't even explain what happened because I haven't figured it out. I'm going to chalk it up to fatigue. But I let in some ridiculously soft goals, in succession, shot after shot. Fortunately after the first period I got my shit together. But that was just flat out awful. The worst part about it was feeling like I let gionta182 and her whole team down. But I've gotten over that now.

Whatever it was, it only lasted partly through the next game and now is gone. The next game was the first of our most recent tournament, and we faced a team of cheaters. There were two divisions. We were in the lower of the two, and this team would have skated circles around the teams in the higher division. They weren't even really a team, just a group made up of ringers. At the end of the first period it was 6-0 and I had that horrible sinking feeling, that "oh no, it's happening again" feeling. I pulled myself together, and they dialed it way back, and we got out of the game with a score of 9-2.

The next two were much better. The second game was a 7-2 victory, and the third was by far my best performance in a while; a 1-0 shutout. Maybe it was partly emotion that kicked me into high gear in the zone, as we had a scary moment in the first period when one of our players got hurt. She went into the dashers with her chin, head snapping back and back twisting strangely as she fell. An ambulance was called but she insisted on coming off the ice on her own. Play resumed but after a few minutes trying to recoup on the bench, she wasn't doing very well, so when the EMTs arrived, she was taken to the hospital. We learned later she had one broken rib, and given how dizzy she was I wouldn't be surprised if she had a concussion as well. She's kicking my ass in Words With Friends though, so she can't be all that befuddled right now.

When we got off the ice after that 3rd game, knowing that that win guaranteed us a spot in the championship game, against Ringer Team, we unanimously decided to wear our red jerseys. Now, these jerseys were purchased at the beginning of last season, a fun "3rd jersey" to complement our regular ones, but they seem to be cursed. We have never won a game in them. We even wore them in an exhibition game against a team we usually beat, hoping to get the stank off them, but we lost that one too. At first no one listened to gionta182 when she insisted they were cursed, but now no one wants to wear them in a game that means anything. But with a game against the Ringer Team, we figured we had nothing to lose. I know a lot of us were looking forward to it; coming off two very strong games, we were in a position to give them a little more fight than we had in that first game, and I knew I was going to play a lot stronger than I had.

Unfortunately, we never got our opportunity. It's almost comical at this point, really. Recall that we decided the night before to wear our red jerseys in this championship game. The game wasn't until 1:30, so I was lounging in my hotel room when the phone rang at 10:30. It was gionta182, calling me from the rink parking lot. There was a sign on the door saying that due to "unforeseen ice conditions", the rink was closed. Closed?!!? But.... we had a championship game to play! I contacted the QCats' tournament organizer and informed her, and she discovered she had an email saying the rink compressors had died and the game was canceled.

Given that the previous three days had been over 100 degrees, I'm not surprised. This wasn't one of the better rinks we've played in (which is putting it very diplomatically) and I'm sure it wasn't well prepared for keeping two ice surfaces frozen in temperatures like that. Although we knew we didn't stand much of a chance, it was a huge disappointment. I know I'd been looking forward to one last challenge, and leaving without playing the championship game was pretty anti-climactic. However, GoalieHusband and I had delayed our vacation for the tournament, so when all was said and done, we arrived here at the beach earlier than we thought, which gave us some time to spend with relatives we'd otherwise have missed.

So you know what this means. Not only is the Red Jersey Curse real, it apparently extends to mechanical equipment as well. We better get the schneid off them before we travel to Florida again next year. They've been designated as travel jerseys, but at this point, I'd be afraid to get on a plane wearing one.

But there's another tournament and a whole hockey season ahead of us before we have to worry about that. Right now, I think I'll just lay on the beach (under an umbrella, of course) for the week and read. My body is giving me all kinds of signals that I need to slow the f*** down and recuperate for a bit. I've learned I ought to listen to it.

Have a good week or so, folks. I doubt I'll be writing much in that time frame. Our next tournament is the second week in August, and the new Hawks season starts somewhere around that time. Until then... zzzzzzzzzzz....

Hellloooo? Anyone Down There????

Every now and then I have an experience that I don't really enjoy all that much, but I end up thinking "well if nothing else, this will make for a good blog post". Last night was one of those nights. I was asked to sub in a rink quite a good distance away (over an hour). A few of my QC teammates play with this group during the summer, a group I thought was a league, but it turned out to be more like quasi-pickup hockey. It's mostly girls home from college, with a few older women mixed in. They play 3 periods of running time, and have one ref. It was a pretty decently paced game, and I would have had a lot of fun if not for the bizarre rink conditions.

It was a disgustingly hot and humid day in our area yesterday, and when we got to the rink, we saw that there was quite a bit of fog hovering over the ice surface. By the time we'd dressed and were out for our time slot, it wasn't hovering anymore. It was a dense bank of solid white. I literally couldn't see much further than my own blue line. If there were players in the neutral zone between the red line and our blue line, I could very vaguely make out their shapes. But if they went past the red line, they disappeared completely. The only reason I knew there was a goalie at the other end was because I heard the puck hitting his pads and stick.

It was extremely disorienting, as once play moved out of my zone I basically just had to stand there and wait for players to materialize out of the fog. At least, at first that's what I did. But as you can imagine, if there was that much fog in the rink, it was pretty warm, and eventually my glasses started fogging up as well. The only way I could keep them clear was to keep moving. So while play was in the other end, I'd skate back and forth in front of my net to keep the air flowing over my lenses. It was really frustrating, yet somehow I managed to make several good saves, quite a few on the best player there as well. But between the fog on the ice and on my glasses, the thickness of the air and the fact that there was a hint of mildew hanging around, I was having trouble breathing by the end of the game.

The fog wasn't the only strange thing about the night, either. I actually got my first penalty minutes ever. Don't get too excited, I didn't actually earn them. In fact, if I'd known I was going to get called for this I would have put a little elbow grease into it to make it at least somewhat satisfactory.

I think the best way to describe this is to use MsConduct's favorite illustrative device: the stick figure drawing. Please be nice... I really suck at this.

Frame 1


Frame 2


Yes, that's right. She skated into MY CREASE and tripped over MY LEG as I was doing my goalie thing and moving IN MY CREASE to get set for a shot. I'm pretty sure I heard a splash as she dove onto her stomach. And somehow ***I*** got called for interference on that. Silly me, I guess I should get out of the way of players making a beeline for MY FUCKING CREASE? I chirped about it and one of my D shrugged and said "you might as well have hit her harder". I swear I thought to myself "If gionta182 was here, her head would be exploding right now". Haha.

That was about a minute before the end of the period, and it only got weirder when I got back to the bench. Someone asked me how I was doing, and I said fine, but wasn't sure what that call was all about. One of the players, I think the same D who commented to me that I should have hit her harder, waved my comment off and said "Ah, she's Jewish".

*blink blink*

Then she quickly added "You're not Jewish are you?"

I literally spit out my water. No.... I'm not. But, ummmm.... wtf??? I skated back to the net, played the last period, and wasn't all that sad when it was all over.

I have to tell you, that comment bugged me all day. Why in the world would she pull that out of nowhere? What the hell does that have to do with anything???? I was discussing it with a friend today and she pointed out that the area where the rink is located is known for being a very large Jewish population. Ok... well I guess that kind of explains where that came from but, yeah that really doesn't make it better.

Very, very strange. I don't know if I'll be asked back, but if I am I think I'll pass. That's a really long way to drive to play a game you can't see in a rink you can't breathe in.

And now I'm off for a Hawks game. LET'S KICK IT, BOYS.

Fun With Autocorrect

Guess what boys & girls, it's time for a new feature on this blog. We'll call it "What Maalivahti's Phone Thinks She REALLY Means". Ok, maybe not. That's a little long. We'll stick with "Fun With Autocorrect" for now. This idea is in part due to a conversation I had with Senator today, via text. We'd been texting back and forth about a gaffe on my part, where I had stated in an email to the whole Hawks team that if I started bitching about the league at any point next season, that they should feel free to force me to breathe deeply of Bandit's bag. Bandit keeps his hockey bag in his car, always. As a result you can smell him coming practically before he even gets to the locker room. In my attempt to be funny though, I didn't realize until I'd hit the "send" button that "Bandit's bag" sounds an awful lot like I'm talking about something OTHER than his hockey bag. (Yes, all of us are roughly 12 yrs old mentally).

Except every time I tried to type "bag" in my text, my phone insisted that what I really meant was "vag". Yeah. What was that about 12 year old mentality? I guess you can see which word I use more often.

Senator suggested that was worthy of a tweet at the very least, or even a blog post. And that got me thinking about what my phone likes to try and replace words with. I recalled one time recently when I attempted to text the following message to a friend:

"I have a task for you."

Only my phone did this. "i have a rask-"

*I delete 'rask' and try again*

"...a rask-"

*DELETE*

"...a TASK for you".

That's not so hard to picture, given the proximity of the 't' and the 'r' on the keyboard. Oh yeah, and the frequency with which I type "Rask". That might have something to do with it too.

But what really cracked me up, and cemented the idea of creating this silly little feature, was when I tried to make the following comment on a friend's Facebook status:

"...so I can live bobrovsky-"

*Gales of laughter*

"...vicariously through you".

So, welcome, dear readers, to even further insight into my brain. As if this blog wasn't enough, my phone's attempts at autocorrecting my typing is like a glimpse into my subconscious. What a shock that it's all about goalies and sex jokes.

PS-EFF THE FLYERS

Dick jokes, head shots and good fun hockey

Some goalies get chapped if there are three goalies at an open hockey session. Not me, not if it's a full two hour session and I'm playing with guys who skate as fast as these guys do. Twenty minutes on, ten minutes off, switching sides, works out quite well in those situations. Plus it allows me to catch some of the bench chatter. Which, with these guys, is usually pretty good. During one of my rest periods, the guys had me cracking up, and I even joined in. (I'm usually really quiet and don't say much). There's one poor SOB whose last name is Weiner- or so we assume considering it's on the back of his jersey. Last week as soon as Ringleader saw it he announced that Anthony Weiner had come to play hockey with us, and would probably "twitter" about the game later. The guy was there again this week, and while I was on the bench he was out on the ice and Ringleader & friends were having a good time doing play by play.

"And a nice tip by Weiner..."

"Watch out, Weiner's at the back door..."

Even I piped up: "Weiner's in the slot!"

That got a good laugh out of Ringleader, who repeated it (I'd said it kind of quietly) and then said "Look at Maalivahti jumpin' in. Nice one."


As for the game, I had a bit of a slow start, and found myself thinking at one point "damn I guess I left my balls at home today". I wasn't challenging enough, and with this group, if you don't challenge, you're done. The very first shot I faced was from White Gloves Dude walking in on a breakaway. White Gloves Dude has a sick shot and if I think about it too much, he intimidates the hell out of me. But I've had success against him in the past, by - you guessed it! - being aggressive and challenging. This morning though, he came straight down the middle and flicked it over my shoulder. Oops. We scored about 10 seconds after that though, so I felt a little better.

Still, I wasn't really "on" until my next shift, on the other end, which was the more active end in terms of shots. Just before I went out for that shift, I'd had a conversation with one of the D on the bench about taking shots to the head. Apparently that conversation jinxed both of us, because not only did I go out onto the ice and subsequently take a real hard one right to the grill, I ended up taking two more to the face over the course of the game, and even he got in the way of one. All I can say is, good thing he wears a cage. That would have been ugly. But it was after that shot that I woke up and started playing a lot better. I really don't know why that happens but I'm 'this close' to telling the Hawks to slip a head-hunter in during warm-ups. Senator (who was also there today) even suggested it once. I'm pretty sure he was mostly kidding though. I mentioned this tendency on twitter, and one person said it makes you more aware of what's going on around you, and another said it clears out the cobwebs. While I'm sure the first is really the case, it sure feels more like the second. It's kind of like... *dink!* Blink blink. Ooohhh hey, look how much more focused I am! Look how much sharper my movements are now! Really weird.

When all was said and done and the zamboni chased off the 8 winded skaters who were left and me and the other very tired goalie, I had 90 minutes of actual ice time this morning. No wonder I'm completely wiped, even though I took a nap, and constantly hungry, even though I've been eating all day. All I can say is, I am really glad there were three of us today. It would have been brutal to not have any breaks. I'm going to do it all over again next week though. Three different people asked if I'd be coming out; evidently some of them come from the city and hate to make the trip unless they know there's going to be at least one goalie. Too bad I completely forgot there's a possible Goat Rodeo on Friday night. At midnight. So if that is really going down, I might as well just sleep at the rink. Because there's no way I'm going to miss a Goat Rodeo, and there's no way I'm going to not show up on Saturday when I told a bunch of different people I'd be there. And I think I'm tired today...