So there was a hockey game last night, and I'll get to that in good time. Jeff, Sheq and I hit the clinic in the morning because once you're over age 40 you really should make sure to schedule two strenuous activities in the same day. We were waiting for the Zamboni to finish up when one of the other guys, who had called my Not-Flight-to-Denver story the worst story ever (it kinda is, from a 'why the hell didn't I do that' standpoint), asked me why I was wearing goalie pants.
Now my hockey pants are hand-me-downs from my brother-in-law and they has always seems normal to me. Looking around, I noticed for the first time that everyone else's pants were streamlined and didn't look like a giant black diaper. We quickly determined that A) they weren't goalie pants at all but just really old, bulky pants, and B) they were short. Like, really short. Hockey equipment works like a big puzzle, with parts of one piece covering gaps left by another. I had a noticeable gap between the lowest pad on the pants and the top of my shinguards, but even with all the pucks I've blocked it hadn't been an issue. I laughed ruefully at my mawashi (look it up) and made a comment about how unlikely it would be for me to be hit in that small a space.
So, are you aware of my superpower? I feel that if I ever go Evil Villain it'll make me quite terrible, but for now I seem content using it to submarine myself. We call it 'Kitastrophying' and basically if I comment on something that's going well, it'll cease to do so. Hey, we haven't hit any traffic today. Boom. Bumper to bumper within minutes. Wow, doing this plumbing job has been easy so far! Boom. 2 inches of water on the bathroom floor. I do my best to use it for good, and woo boy you should see the glare I get when I accidentally Kitastrophe Laura.
So, superpower. I have worn the same hockey gear, including my short-shorts, through 14 full games and at least as many hour long clinics. I have blocked more shots than I can count and not once did I take a puck in the exposed area on my thigh.
Until last night. With great power comes great responsibility. Also, evidently, the ability to guide a hockey puck into unprotected flesh. There's a lump right now, with expectations of a truly spectacular bruise. I have ordered pants so that I can retire my relics and only be mocked for my lousy play. Speaking of which . . .
It was a scary match up on paper. The Rebels are tied for first and averaging a little over 6 goals a game, and the first time we played they beat us 7-1 and that was after they let up after punching in 5 goals in the first. We had a good number of players - 13 - and I was happy to volunteer to be one of the four defensemen. I'm not going to lie - I enjoy playing half the game as opposed to a third, and right now my body seems content to give me the energy to try to mask my lack of ability with extreme effort. And so I flung myself all over the ice, using diving as a way to try to counteract the other team skating circles around me. It was belly flop central but it worked to some degree, i think. It was a 1-0 after one, with the goal coming off a blown assignment and a deflection on an overlong shift. We just couldn't get off the ice. They got another goal in the second when their guy came out of the corner and roofed a shot - damn nice. In the third they added one off a scramble in front of the net and the last goal on a blistering wrist shot from the dot that got through Alex's five hole. And that was it. We took a team tied for first and only lost 4-0. Believe me, they didn't let up. Also believe me, while our team defense continues to improve much of the closeness of the game is because Alex is quite an excellent goalie. I can only imagine the offers he's getting from other teams trying to poach him. Let me put it this way - at one point, after a crazy ass clusterfuck in front of the net that saw Alex out of position and my defensive partner sprawled on the goalline with the puck under him, the other team was awarded a penalty shot. I dd not doubt, for a second, that Alex was going to stop him cold. Which he did. Not only is he good at his position, he's got great advice. I just try to keep learning. I handled some of the odd man rushes well, some not so well, and made some mistakes as usual. At least one bad clearing attempt, a missed pass, running into my teammate, that sort of stuff. No penalties, although I did some hooking and waged a constant war to shove their cadre of 225+ pound forwards out of the crease. As a whole we made strides - much better overall defensive play, although still some missed assignments. More confidence with the puck. Shifts are still too long in some cases, and at least one guy still doesn't seem to grasp how offsides works. We need to find the open players with passes more often, get the puck back to the point, develop an organized forecheck . . . the same problems every other team has. We're getting there, although the clock is ticking on the season. Two more games left before our playoff game, with a preview of whom we're playing coming this week. The goals will come in time as we sharpen up the other aspects of our game. I only wish we were playing a 60 game season instead of a 16 game one.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Following in the Footsteps of Nick Fotiu - Old Man Learns Hockey - Game #13
I hit the clinic Sunday morning - the HOCKEY clinic - and spent every chance I could either playing defense or honing my backward skating skills. The drills we did lent to that, and even before our game I had extra ice time to practice my forward to back spin, clearing the puck, and all sorts of important defenseman things.
Then I was told I was playing forward.
Which was fine, really. I don't care where I play and as we had a short bench - seven forwards, four defensemen - there was still plenty of ice time. We were playing a not-great team, carried by two excellent skaters and a couple of decent ones. I stepped on the ice for the first time just as they converted a two-on-one for a goal. Wonderful. Later in the period their big gun sped in and scored on a breakway, but that was it. In the second we had a few defensive breakdowns, and their 3rd and 4th goals came off rebound scrambles in front of our net. It felt weird to be sticking up by the blue line instead of shoving people away, but the defenseman was the aforementioned big gun and I wasn't leaving him alone. They punched another one in before the horn, but there was a lot more give and take - we were getting some chances and offensive pressure. In the third period, for whatever reason, we started to have more success. I was out there for a minute-long shift that was entirely in their zone - we stopped clearing attempts a few times, which was a nice reversal. I had not one but two shots on goal - a one-timer that he stonedwalled me on, and then the rebound that I lifted with a backhand hit the bottom of his glove, the top of his pad . . . and fell out. Rats.
I also tore the feet out from under someone and had the good graces not to even try to protest when the ref blew the play dead and sent me off. My first trip to the sin bin! Well, first to a hockey sin bin. I'm acquainted with the rugby version as well. Anyway, I now have an official stat.We killed off the penalty and a few minutes later, after more pressure, punched in a goal. Of course that annoyed the other team so their superstar skated through everyone and, although Charlie stopped the first shot, one of his teammates put back the rebound. 6-1 final. Not too bad.
As for me, I was my usual menagerie of hustle, mistakes, and so on. I wiped out and took out the net, I dug the puck off the boards and made a perfect, perfect cross-ice pass that should have been a one-timer but was muffed, and I yelled at one of my teammates for lining up for a faceoff after taking a two minute shift. Don't tell me you're 'okay.' The pros only take 45 second shifts, plus you're being a selfish tool to your teammates. If I have to be That Guy, I'll be That Guy. Otherwise, playing forward is fun and even if I was making a goal-causing mistake, it's not as obvious as when I bone it as a defenseman. The season is winding down - only four games left, unless we win our first playoff game. Stranger things could happen.
Then I was told I was playing forward.
Which was fine, really. I don't care where I play and as we had a short bench - seven forwards, four defensemen - there was still plenty of ice time. We were playing a not-great team, carried by two excellent skaters and a couple of decent ones. I stepped on the ice for the first time just as they converted a two-on-one for a goal. Wonderful. Later in the period their big gun sped in and scored on a breakway, but that was it. In the second we had a few defensive breakdowns, and their 3rd and 4th goals came off rebound scrambles in front of our net. It felt weird to be sticking up by the blue line instead of shoving people away, but the defenseman was the aforementioned big gun and I wasn't leaving him alone. They punched another one in before the horn, but there was a lot more give and take - we were getting some chances and offensive pressure. In the third period, for whatever reason, we started to have more success. I was out there for a minute-long shift that was entirely in their zone - we stopped clearing attempts a few times, which was a nice reversal. I had not one but two shots on goal - a one-timer that he stonedwalled me on, and then the rebound that I lifted with a backhand hit the bottom of his glove, the top of his pad . . . and fell out. Rats.
I also tore the feet out from under someone and had the good graces not to even try to protest when the ref blew the play dead and sent me off. My first trip to the sin bin! Well, first to a hockey sin bin. I'm acquainted with the rugby version as well. Anyway, I now have an official stat.We killed off the penalty and a few minutes later, after more pressure, punched in a goal. Of course that annoyed the other team so their superstar skated through everyone and, although Charlie stopped the first shot, one of his teammates put back the rebound. 6-1 final. Not too bad.
As for me, I was my usual menagerie of hustle, mistakes, and so on. I wiped out and took out the net, I dug the puck off the boards and made a perfect, perfect cross-ice pass that should have been a one-timer but was muffed, and I yelled at one of my teammates for lining up for a faceoff after taking a two minute shift. Don't tell me you're 'okay.' The pros only take 45 second shifts, plus you're being a selfish tool to your teammates. If I have to be That Guy, I'll be That Guy. Otherwise, playing forward is fun and even if I was making a goal-causing mistake, it's not as obvious as when I bone it as a defenseman. The season is winding down - only four games left, unless we win our first playoff game. Stranger things could happen.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Nobody Saw That, Right? Old Man Learns Hockey - Game #12
For the first 30 seconds, it was amazing. It was Lake Placid 1980 all over again. We took the opening faceoff, drove down the ice, and forced their goalie to make a good save before smothering the puck. Offensive pressure! Putting another team back on their heels! Old Time Hockey! Eddie Shore!
30 seconds later we were down 1-0.
Before I get into the details of our latest outing I should report that this game featured the stupidest play of my short hockey career. Not the most comically hysterical to watch, nor the most embarrassed by the skill of another player - those are separate categories. This was just pure boneheadedness. Playing right D, I outowrked one of their guys for a puck along the board near the circle in our zone. He was still between me and the blue line, so instead of doing almost anything else that would have been better, including curling into a ball on the ice and hugging the puck until it hatched into a bunch of little baby pucks, I did the dumbest - I made a blind backhand pass to the center of our zone, trusting that my defensive partner was there.
He was not. A guy from the other team was, though, and he blew a slapshot through poor Charlie from about 20 feet away. Ugh.
The final was 9-0, but I find it difficult to hang too much of this on us. The Titans are in 2nd place but to me seemed better than the team we played last week and thus vastly superior than us. They had several guys who were superlative skaters and would weave their way through our zone while we closed ranks and did what we could. I'm not happy with my outing at D, but then again I faced more 2 on 1 and 3 on 1 breaks than I can remember against guys who were literally skating circles around me. It helped that Goalie Alex (who will be just Alex today as Winger Alex was a no show. Jeff was out as well, exhausted from being in California to be presented with an award stating he's the best salesman since Ron Popeil. Trevor was out too, and we missed his steady presence as well) insisted we get a goalie to split games with and was there for advice the latter 20 minutes or so. It's good to know whether or not I did the right thing, regardless of the outcome. To wit:
- racing back on a 2 on zero break, I cut off the pass instead of making a late dive that might or might not have gotten me there in time. Ruling - RIGHT THING even though the guy roofed the puck for a goal
- going for the big rebound on another 2 on 1 after denying the pass - RIGHT THING but be a better player because I just missed it and the guy fromt he other team rammed it home (it was a BIG rebound)
- make a blind pass behind your back in your own zone WRONG THING STUPID
- try to lift one of their sticks and accidentally bury mine in the guy's groin, sending him to the ice in a heap RULES WRONG, BUT KINDA OKAY BECAUSE FUCK YOU FOR BEING IN THIS DIVISION, GUYS
And so it went. They were way too good to be in this division. We'd catch them deep and be on a 2 or 3 on 1 and by the time we got to their blue line they had 2 or 3 guys back, usually all over the puckcarrier. Our goalies (we brought back Charlie) did a fantastic job, and I don't think we took much of a step back, if any. As we had only 4 defense I played about half the game, and combined with a morning clinic I expected to be much more worn than I was. Whether it was a comment on my play or not one of the guys shifted to D for the last 5 minutes and I took a shift at left wing, which was fun and found me in the curious position of having dug the puck out of the corner in the offensive zone and . . . having everyone just kind of look at me. I think I checked for options for a good 5 seconds before trying to hit a cutting Tom (one of their D just deflected the pass) and maybe I should have tried to skate out and shoot, of toss it back to the point - it's kind of lost in the fog of memory. My teammates are amazingly patient with me as a defenseman, because it's got to be frustrating to see me make so many mistakes.
When the game was over a few of their guys were skating by and one of them said, 'Those guys never gave up, man. They kept going to the end.'
Fucking right we did, chief.
Final note: It might be nothing. It may have been a fluke. But, armed with confidence from a backwards crossover step last week and a fancy new edge on my blades, I hit the circle after the morning clinic but before the ice was flooded with 5 year olds who all skate better than me and dammit, I did a front crossover step. More than once. they weren't pretty but they were there. Before the other teams hit the ice for the game after us I did it again. Baby steps. Baby crossover steps, anyway.
30 seconds later we were down 1-0.
Before I get into the details of our latest outing I should report that this game featured the stupidest play of my short hockey career. Not the most comically hysterical to watch, nor the most embarrassed by the skill of another player - those are separate categories. This was just pure boneheadedness. Playing right D, I outowrked one of their guys for a puck along the board near the circle in our zone. He was still between me and the blue line, so instead of doing almost anything else that would have been better, including curling into a ball on the ice and hugging the puck until it hatched into a bunch of little baby pucks, I did the dumbest - I made a blind backhand pass to the center of our zone, trusting that my defensive partner was there.
He was not. A guy from the other team was, though, and he blew a slapshot through poor Charlie from about 20 feet away. Ugh.
The final was 9-0, but I find it difficult to hang too much of this on us. The Titans are in 2nd place but to me seemed better than the team we played last week and thus vastly superior than us. They had several guys who were superlative skaters and would weave their way through our zone while we closed ranks and did what we could. I'm not happy with my outing at D, but then again I faced more 2 on 1 and 3 on 1 breaks than I can remember against guys who were literally skating circles around me. It helped that Goalie Alex (who will be just Alex today as Winger Alex was a no show. Jeff was out as well, exhausted from being in California to be presented with an award stating he's the best salesman since Ron Popeil. Trevor was out too, and we missed his steady presence as well) insisted we get a goalie to split games with and was there for advice the latter 20 minutes or so. It's good to know whether or not I did the right thing, regardless of the outcome. To wit:
- racing back on a 2 on zero break, I cut off the pass instead of making a late dive that might or might not have gotten me there in time. Ruling - RIGHT THING even though the guy roofed the puck for a goal
- going for the big rebound on another 2 on 1 after denying the pass - RIGHT THING but be a better player because I just missed it and the guy fromt he other team rammed it home (it was a BIG rebound)
- make a blind pass behind your back in your own zone WRONG THING STUPID
- try to lift one of their sticks and accidentally bury mine in the guy's groin, sending him to the ice in a heap RULES WRONG, BUT KINDA OKAY BECAUSE FUCK YOU FOR BEING IN THIS DIVISION, GUYS
And so it went. They were way too good to be in this division. We'd catch them deep and be on a 2 or 3 on 1 and by the time we got to their blue line they had 2 or 3 guys back, usually all over the puckcarrier. Our goalies (we brought back Charlie) did a fantastic job, and I don't think we took much of a step back, if any. As we had only 4 defense I played about half the game, and combined with a morning clinic I expected to be much more worn than I was. Whether it was a comment on my play or not one of the guys shifted to D for the last 5 minutes and I took a shift at left wing, which was fun and found me in the curious position of having dug the puck out of the corner in the offensive zone and . . . having everyone just kind of look at me. I think I checked for options for a good 5 seconds before trying to hit a cutting Tom (one of their D just deflected the pass) and maybe I should have tried to skate out and shoot, of toss it back to the point - it's kind of lost in the fog of memory. My teammates are amazingly patient with me as a defenseman, because it's got to be frustrating to see me make so many mistakes.
When the game was over a few of their guys were skating by and one of them said, 'Those guys never gave up, man. They kept going to the end.'
Fucking right we did, chief.
Final note: It might be nothing. It may have been a fluke. But, armed with confidence from a backwards crossover step last week and a fancy new edge on my blades, I hit the circle after the morning clinic but before the ice was flooded with 5 year olds who all skate better than me and dammit, I did a front crossover step. More than once. they weren't pretty but they were there. Before the other teams hit the ice for the game after us I did it again. Baby steps. Baby crossover steps, anyway.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Kit Go Boom - Old Man learns Hockey - Game #11
It was one of those moments that serves as a pivotal point in a rookie's career, one he'll remember forever. About 2/3s of the way through the first period against the #1 team in the league, we found ourselves locked at 0-0 and actually doing more than just playing prevent defense. I'd managed to grab some extra ice time before the game and worked almost exclusively on my backwards skating. To the amazement of both myself and Jeff, who was in the area, I managed to pull off a backwards crossover step without wiping out, and I felt good about the way things were going. It's sad, then, that I somehow lose that confidence once the game plays and freak out when the puckcarrier comes at me with speed. I'll get there, but damn it's frustrating right now.
Anyway, we were pressuring (!) and my defensive partner got caught in a pinch. Their defenseman made a nice cross ice pass to spring one of their wingers. I saw it starting to break and tore out of the zone in my lotta-motion-little-speed style and managed to get back just ahead of the puckcarrier. He'd been joined by a teammate to make it a clear 2 on 1. As I skated back and hit the blue line I started turning from front to back, a couple of strides ahead of the puckhandler. He was on my right side and between me and the boards, and as I spun I noted he was a lefty. That meant he was basically in shooting position and that i had to try to keep him wide. My main job was to cut off the passing lane and force him into shooting from as bad an angle as possible - the rest was up to Alex. I knew what I had to do and I was in good position to actually pull it off.
Unfortunately, I fell on my ass right after I finished turning around.
I could be a douche and say it was because my blades needed sharpening or some other excuse, but I have no idea why I fell. Did I catch an edge? Lean too far back? Hit a furrow? Who knows? Who cares? All that matters is that I went down in a heap and the guy scored. 1-0, them. My fault. I wanted to dig a hole in the ice and crawl in, but since that wasn't possible I just figured I'd get a chance to make good later. That would happen, right?
Well . . .
In the second a shot from near the point deflected off my skate, off another skate, and binged in off the post. I probably shouldn't blame myself for that but I was between the goalie and the shooter and if I'm going to be screening Alex I damn well better block the puck. The last goal I was on ice for - all three scored by the same guy, by the way - was shorthanded as he absolutely blew by me along the boards before scoring off a scramble a little while later(Bart the clinic coach was there and said I never had a chance, and neither would most people in that situation, but I'm assuming he was just being nice). It's so frustrating to not be able to do what would have stopped him cold and slam him into the boards with a hip check, but at this level speed kills. The final was 6-1 but we played these guys tough before they chipped in two late goals. Aside from the three mistakes I listed, the rest of my game was meh as well. I wasn't particularly physical, I made some good passes but also failed to clear more than once, and I just felt a stride off the entire game. As a team, though, we were vastly improved. The other team mentioned that their best player wasn't there (the guy with 13 goals and 15 points isn't the best player?) but in any case they knew we were out there. It wasn't an evenly matched war but we had numerous scoring attempts and looked more like a team as opposed to a bunch of puppies who wandered out on the ice. Jeff flat-out saved a goal when he lifted the stick of a guy who was going to have a gimmie goal off a gorgeous pass. Alex was pretty much incredible - after one save the ref hummed the theme from 'Sportscenter.' We started winning a few faceoffs as well - not the majority, but it's a start. Shifts were kept shorter for the most part (it's always a little tougher in the second period, when it's a longer distance to the bench for a change from the defensive zone), although one too-long time resulted in a goal against. We need to score more goals, but that will come with playing time. If we had played against a lower echelon team it might have had a very different outcome.
Assuming I could keep from falling on my ass again, of course. I do not salute the patience of my teammates enough. This week we have another top 2 team to contend with and it'll be interesting to see how things shake out. I'll have a new set of edges on my crappy skates and a morning clinic session under my belt. Hope either one helps.
Also, no word from Goalie Bob. That's an odd way to go out.
Writing: Nope. Editing mode all week on someone else's book. thinking about starting my edit next week, perhaps.
Anyway, we were pressuring (!) and my defensive partner got caught in a pinch. Their defenseman made a nice cross ice pass to spring one of their wingers. I saw it starting to break and tore out of the zone in my lotta-motion-little-speed style and managed to get back just ahead of the puckcarrier. He'd been joined by a teammate to make it a clear 2 on 1. As I skated back and hit the blue line I started turning from front to back, a couple of strides ahead of the puckhandler. He was on my right side and between me and the boards, and as I spun I noted he was a lefty. That meant he was basically in shooting position and that i had to try to keep him wide. My main job was to cut off the passing lane and force him into shooting from as bad an angle as possible - the rest was up to Alex. I knew what I had to do and I was in good position to actually pull it off.
Unfortunately, I fell on my ass right after I finished turning around.
I could be a douche and say it was because my blades needed sharpening or some other excuse, but I have no idea why I fell. Did I catch an edge? Lean too far back? Hit a furrow? Who knows? Who cares? All that matters is that I went down in a heap and the guy scored. 1-0, them. My fault. I wanted to dig a hole in the ice and crawl in, but since that wasn't possible I just figured I'd get a chance to make good later. That would happen, right?
Well . . .
In the second a shot from near the point deflected off my skate, off another skate, and binged in off the post. I probably shouldn't blame myself for that but I was between the goalie and the shooter and if I'm going to be screening Alex I damn well better block the puck. The last goal I was on ice for - all three scored by the same guy, by the way - was shorthanded as he absolutely blew by me along the boards before scoring off a scramble a little while later(Bart the clinic coach was there and said I never had a chance, and neither would most people in that situation, but I'm assuming he was just being nice). It's so frustrating to not be able to do what would have stopped him cold and slam him into the boards with a hip check, but at this level speed kills. The final was 6-1 but we played these guys tough before they chipped in two late goals. Aside from the three mistakes I listed, the rest of my game was meh as well. I wasn't particularly physical, I made some good passes but also failed to clear more than once, and I just felt a stride off the entire game. As a team, though, we were vastly improved. The other team mentioned that their best player wasn't there (the guy with 13 goals and 15 points isn't the best player?) but in any case they knew we were out there. It wasn't an evenly matched war but we had numerous scoring attempts and looked more like a team as opposed to a bunch of puppies who wandered out on the ice. Jeff flat-out saved a goal when he lifted the stick of a guy who was going to have a gimmie goal off a gorgeous pass. Alex was pretty much incredible - after one save the ref hummed the theme from 'Sportscenter.' We started winning a few faceoffs as well - not the majority, but it's a start. Shifts were kept shorter for the most part (it's always a little tougher in the second period, when it's a longer distance to the bench for a change from the defensive zone), although one too-long time resulted in a goal against. We need to score more goals, but that will come with playing time. If we had played against a lower echelon team it might have had a very different outcome.
Assuming I could keep from falling on my ass again, of course. I do not salute the patience of my teammates enough. This week we have another top 2 team to contend with and it'll be interesting to see how things shake out. I'll have a new set of edges on my crappy skates and a morning clinic session under my belt. Hope either one helps.
Also, no word from Goalie Bob. That's an odd way to go out.
Writing: Nope. Editing mode all week on someone else's book. thinking about starting my edit next week, perhaps.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
It Might Have Been Something I Said
So I was digging through my hockey team's Teamsnap site yesterday when I realized someone had chosen a passive-aggressive way to quit. In the section for availability he'd changed his name to 'BYE" and red-exed the rest of the. It took a minute of eliminating names to realize it was Bob, the older goalie. When I mentioned it to Sheq his response was, "Did he read your blog?"
That seems unlikely, although it is possible. Was a harsh? A little, but I was harsher on myself later on in the same post as well. He'd mentioned quitting before - after the first few games he was lamenting his performance and asked me if he thought the others would accept him as a coach instead (I said yes) - but once Alex got hurt he had no choice. If it was because of my post I sorry that it made him choose that path, but I'm not going to kill myself over a little bit of criticism, especially when I didn't spare myself. He freaked a few people out when we played his old team by wishing ovarian cancer on one woman and yelling at me and the other defensemen to try to hurt their best player. To be fair, the latter had no right to be in a developmental league, but I don't want to injure anyone, especially not a kid who was about 5'5" and 1 hundred and nothing pounds.
I don't know Bob's reasons for leaving, but he's an adult and it was his choice. I only wish he'd let us know why.
Writing: none. Been all editing, all the time. Not my stuff. A few more chapters of the book I;m editing for others came free, and I'm elbow deep. LITERARY CARNAGE!!!
That seems unlikely, although it is possible. Was a harsh? A little, but I was harsher on myself later on in the same post as well. He'd mentioned quitting before - after the first few games he was lamenting his performance and asked me if he thought the others would accept him as a coach instead (I said yes) - but once Alex got hurt he had no choice. If it was because of my post I sorry that it made him choose that path, but I'm not going to kill myself over a little bit of criticism, especially when I didn't spare myself. He freaked a few people out when we played his old team by wishing ovarian cancer on one woman and yelling at me and the other defensemen to try to hurt their best player. To be fair, the latter had no right to be in a developmental league, but I don't want to injure anyone, especially not a kid who was about 5'5" and 1 hundred and nothing pounds.
I don't know Bob's reasons for leaving, but he's an adult and it was his choice. I only wish he'd let us know why.
Writing: none. Been all editing, all the time. Not my stuff. A few more chapters of the book I;m editing for others came free, and I'm elbow deep. LITERARY CARNAGE!!!
Monday, January 13, 2014
Burn, Baby, Burn - Old Man Learns Hockey - Game 10
"Man's got to know his limitations." - 'Dirty' Harry Callahan
I have a weird relationship with competition. When I do things against other people I'm always trying to win, but I rarely get upset with the process if I lose. No matter what, it's only a game. However, if I lose because of a failing of my own I tend to get annoyed and irked with myself, which starts the self-flagellation and blows to my self-esteem. I am indeed my own worst critic and I'm damn hard on myself, even when I shouldn't be. Take hockey as an example. I've been playing for around 4 months. In that time I've attended 7 1 hour clinic classes, had one half-assed practice, and played in 10 games. That's a total of 17 hours of ice time. Yet I'm furious with myself for my play in the third period of our game last night, even though most of my failings came at the hands (or skates) of people who have been playing for years - no, decades - at a game in which the only way to get better is to play. And yet, here I am. forgetting the good things and focusing on the negative ones. It's an illness, I tell ya.
The day started with the perhaps foolhardy decision to attend a clinic Sunday morning at 8am. I wouldn't go so far as to call it grueling, but it was a good workout and focused on the things I need to become a better player - I was going to list a few things here but shit, I need to get better at everything. By the time 7pm rolled around I still felt okay and was anxious to play. The team we were playing was the Mutiny, the one I was supposed to sign on with when my friend Dave clued me in to the whole hockey thing. I'd passed because they couldn't absorb Sheq and Jeff as well, but I was (and am) appreciative to Dave for getting me involved. I was looking forward to playing him (and his teammate Berk, who I played rugby with for years. Small world and all that shit) but not in a 'gotta beat him' sense. It just sounded like fun to go against an opponent who wasn't faceless. And as a team, we seemed psyched after a three week layoff. Good Goalie Alex (just Alex from now on) was back with a serviceable knee, and we charged into the game with the energy of a team hungry for a win.
2:40 in, we were down 3-0.
Okay, it's not cool to point fingers at anyone but Old Goalie Bob (henceforth known as OGB) took about 3 shots before the game and declared his warm-ups complete. When play started the first shot he let in was questionable; the second was alarming; and the third, which I was out there for, was the softest of the b unch. A unscreened, floating wrister from the top of the circles. That's gotta be stopped. A three-zip hole was not the way we needed to start. And to our credit, we buckled down. OGB didn't give up anything else for the rest of the period and we started to shake off the rust. In the second period we gave up only one goal (an absolutely beautiful 2 on 1 that Alex didn't have a chance on) and played better, although we were aided by at least two that they rang off the posts. My game was up and down. The Mutiny like to flood the crease, so I was kept busy pushing people back out whenever I could. That led to an unfortunate bit with poor Dave - he had backed into the crease and so I headed over to push him away, but at the wrong time I stumbled as he moved back a little more, so instead of a push I ended up sending him sprawling with a healthy shove. I play physically with an edge but I'm not trying to be dirty, so I felt bad about it. Of course he got revenge when he potted a nice pass in the third for his first goal, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I continued to have my usual problems getting the puck out of the defensive zone - it always seemed like I'd get control and be looking at a wall of gray sweaters. I've been reading up on our clearing problems and learned that we should have the wingers breaking out as soon as we gain control, which would make the defensemen for the other team have to go with them and thus not be there to block clearing attempts up the boards. Not ALL of my clearing attempts got picked off - some were okay, and once I even skated up before passing and hit one of our wingers at the opposite blue line - but enough so that I was annoyed. I keep forgetting to elevate the puck. Frustrating.
The horror show started in the third. I had a inkling of what might be in store when #19 (I think) undressed me with a move in the 2nd period but Alex stopped him. In the 3rd he got the puck with a full head of steam at the red line. I was just inside my own blue line and I knew, without a doubt, that I was dead. Forwards or backwards, I wasn't going to be able to keep up with him, and the only option I had of checking him into the boards would have gotten me a penalty. Not that that would have stopped me, but he was by me too quickly for me to even try. That was after I failed to clear a puck and they knocked it around for a while before scoring, so that was a lovely -2 on that shift for me. Awesome. Also something let go in the back of my leg - not completely, but enough of a hello to make me nervous. That had nothing to do with me getting torched. That was just not being good enough.
After the game Alex and I were the only two left in the locker room and I was trying to draw out his thoughts on what he'd seen. The dude played Division 1 in college and he sees a lot, but he's reluctant to speak out for fear of ruffling feathers. He confirmed what I had been thinking about the forwards, saying I had no passing lanes the way things were. We also agreed that for some strange reason, our defensive partners don't pass cross ice to one another enough, Or at all, really. Shifts are still too long, of course, although the forwards seemed a little better. Defense have been pretty good about getting off when we should, although one guy lingers. I want to say he's getting better about it. perhaps he is.
I understand that I'm learning a difficult position by fire and should not beat myself up quite so much, but it's more of the same - I know where to be but can't get it done. Jeff echoed the same sentiment but that doesn't make it any less like talking the gorgeous blond into coming home with you and then having a personal power failure. Meanwhile I try to keep things in perspective. My mind may be grumbling, but my body, after a double session of hockey, is, uhm, well, that's grumbling as well. Still a little tug on the bottom of the back of my right quad. I'm sure I'll be better by next week and the next opportunity to not suck. Or so I hope.
I have a weird relationship with competition. When I do things against other people I'm always trying to win, but I rarely get upset with the process if I lose. No matter what, it's only a game. However, if I lose because of a failing of my own I tend to get annoyed and irked with myself, which starts the self-flagellation and blows to my self-esteem. I am indeed my own worst critic and I'm damn hard on myself, even when I shouldn't be. Take hockey as an example. I've been playing for around 4 months. In that time I've attended 7 1 hour clinic classes, had one half-assed practice, and played in 10 games. That's a total of 17 hours of ice time. Yet I'm furious with myself for my play in the third period of our game last night, even though most of my failings came at the hands (or skates) of people who have been playing for years - no, decades - at a game in which the only way to get better is to play. And yet, here I am. forgetting the good things and focusing on the negative ones. It's an illness, I tell ya.
The day started with the perhaps foolhardy decision to attend a clinic Sunday morning at 8am. I wouldn't go so far as to call it grueling, but it was a good workout and focused on the things I need to become a better player - I was going to list a few things here but shit, I need to get better at everything. By the time 7pm rolled around I still felt okay and was anxious to play. The team we were playing was the Mutiny, the one I was supposed to sign on with when my friend Dave clued me in to the whole hockey thing. I'd passed because they couldn't absorb Sheq and Jeff as well, but I was (and am) appreciative to Dave for getting me involved. I was looking forward to playing him (and his teammate Berk, who I played rugby with for years. Small world and all that shit) but not in a 'gotta beat him' sense. It just sounded like fun to go against an opponent who wasn't faceless. And as a team, we seemed psyched after a three week layoff. Good Goalie Alex (just Alex from now on) was back with a serviceable knee, and we charged into the game with the energy of a team hungry for a win.
2:40 in, we were down 3-0.
Okay, it's not cool to point fingers at anyone but Old Goalie Bob (henceforth known as OGB) took about 3 shots before the game and declared his warm-ups complete. When play started the first shot he let in was questionable; the second was alarming; and the third, which I was out there for, was the softest of the b unch. A unscreened, floating wrister from the top of the circles. That's gotta be stopped. A three-zip hole was not the way we needed to start. And to our credit, we buckled down. OGB didn't give up anything else for the rest of the period and we started to shake off the rust. In the second period we gave up only one goal (an absolutely beautiful 2 on 1 that Alex didn't have a chance on) and played better, although we were aided by at least two that they rang off the posts. My game was up and down. The Mutiny like to flood the crease, so I was kept busy pushing people back out whenever I could. That led to an unfortunate bit with poor Dave - he had backed into the crease and so I headed over to push him away, but at the wrong time I stumbled as he moved back a little more, so instead of a push I ended up sending him sprawling with a healthy shove. I play physically with an edge but I'm not trying to be dirty, so I felt bad about it. Of course he got revenge when he potted a nice pass in the third for his first goal, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I continued to have my usual problems getting the puck out of the defensive zone - it always seemed like I'd get control and be looking at a wall of gray sweaters. I've been reading up on our clearing problems and learned that we should have the wingers breaking out as soon as we gain control, which would make the defensemen for the other team have to go with them and thus not be there to block clearing attempts up the boards. Not ALL of my clearing attempts got picked off - some were okay, and once I even skated up before passing and hit one of our wingers at the opposite blue line - but enough so that I was annoyed. I keep forgetting to elevate the puck. Frustrating.
The horror show started in the third. I had a inkling of what might be in store when #19 (I think) undressed me with a move in the 2nd period but Alex stopped him. In the 3rd he got the puck with a full head of steam at the red line. I was just inside my own blue line and I knew, without a doubt, that I was dead. Forwards or backwards, I wasn't going to be able to keep up with him, and the only option I had of checking him into the boards would have gotten me a penalty. Not that that would have stopped me, but he was by me too quickly for me to even try. That was after I failed to clear a puck and they knocked it around for a while before scoring, so that was a lovely -2 on that shift for me. Awesome. Also something let go in the back of my leg - not completely, but enough of a hello to make me nervous. That had nothing to do with me getting torched. That was just not being good enough.
After the game Alex and I were the only two left in the locker room and I was trying to draw out his thoughts on what he'd seen. The dude played Division 1 in college and he sees a lot, but he's reluctant to speak out for fear of ruffling feathers. He confirmed what I had been thinking about the forwards, saying I had no passing lanes the way things were. We also agreed that for some strange reason, our defensive partners don't pass cross ice to one another enough, Or at all, really. Shifts are still too long, of course, although the forwards seemed a little better. Defense have been pretty good about getting off when we should, although one guy lingers. I want to say he's getting better about it. perhaps he is.
I understand that I'm learning a difficult position by fire and should not beat myself up quite so much, but it's more of the same - I know where to be but can't get it done. Jeff echoed the same sentiment but that doesn't make it any less like talking the gorgeous blond into coming home with you and then having a personal power failure. Meanwhile I try to keep things in perspective. My mind may be grumbling, but my body, after a double session of hockey, is, uhm, well, that's grumbling as well. Still a little tug on the bottom of the back of my right quad. I'm sure I'll be better by next week and the next opportunity to not suck. Or so I hope.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
That Was Probably the Easy Part
44 chapters, 171152 words. First draft of Dancing With the Boneyard Gods is done. Well, version 1.5, to be honest, as I wrote a much different and much more bloated version (229K!) about 15 years ago. I'm interested to see how much I carve away during the first edit, as I seem to be a fixer more than a remover in those matters, but 171k is a tough sell for a first book. I'm going to spend tomorrow and Saturday working on short stories during my 5am writing time (or maybe just screwing off and playing games, who knows) and dive into the first edit on Monday. It's been so long since I've seen those early chapters that I don't feel much of a break is needed. Then it's off to the suckers who volunteer to read, those poor damned souls. Step up to that line at your own risk.
Writing: 17 words. Those were all I needed, today.
Writing: 17 words. Those were all I needed, today.
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