March 31, 2014

The Lost Weekend

For those of you familiar with the 1945 Billy Wilder film adaptation of THE LOST WEEKEND, you'll remember the story of Don Birnam, a raging alcoholic who goes on a weekend bender of epic proportions. His weekend is followed by a stint in rehab where a counsellor tells Birnam the truth about his alcoholism.
There isn't any cure, besides just stopping. And how many of them can do that? They don't want to, you see. When they feel bad like this fellow here, they think they want to stop, but they don't, really.
I am feeling bad and its not just the wear and tear of 4 games in 24 hours- my own Lost Weekend. It's not the 148 shots or the dozen breakaways or the blown defensive plays or soft goals I let in. It's not the soreness in my hips and knees or the muscle cramps through the night. I'm feeling bad because of the score and the losses. All four of them.

Some of them were close and some were blow outs and in every game I feel like I just couldn't do enough. Not enough saves, too many mistakes and not finding a way to elevate my teams to win by giving an inspiring performance by their goaltender.

I know what my goalie coach will say. I know what most of my team mates will say. "You did your best." "We let you down man." "Thanks for showing up." "You made some good stops." None of those welcomed and best intentioned comments change my mood.

What's the cure for the irrational competitiveness? What's the cure for wanting to put myself in a position of constant and glaring failure. What's the cure for wanting to be a goaltender?

There isn't any cure, besides just stopping.

I'm not stopping.




March 23, 2014

Laugh or Cry

My D4 team, The Jokers, were gutted this season. We lost 4 of our top players after they were forced to move up a division, leaving us to re-rack with new players that are still learning and developing their hockey skills.

We've only managed one win after 6 games and for the most part we've been outmatched and not very competitive.

In the locker room last night, spirits weren't particularly high before the game so I did my best to get the Jokers fired up. In mock fashion I demanded everyone work to get me my first shutout of the season. I saw smiles and faces relax as we headed to the ice. Maybe even some belief.

The game began and I was focused and fresh despite playing an game earlier that night- demanding my old body to rise to the challenge.

After handling a couple of routine shots, the score was 0-0 three minutes in the first period when an opposing winger dumped the puck softly into our zone as they went for a change. I saw my defenseman heading behind the net to pick up the puck when I heard him shout, "Watch it!".

There were no opposing players in our zone and nobody but my own defense skating inside our blue line.

The whistle blew. Opposing players at center ice whooped, "GOAL!"

I stood there dumbfounded as the referee skated over and said, "I've only ever seen that one other time".

The puck had skittered along the corner boards and found something akin to a worm hole that took the puck on a mind-blowing angle towards my post. The puck had glanced off my right skate blade and into the net. All while I stood looking towards center ice.

So much for the shutout.

We ended up losing 5-1 with a couple of garbage goals late. Our team was outmatched and not very competitive. We played on our side of center for three quarters of the game but I wonder had that first goal not broken the laws of physics and put them up 1-0 whether the game would have played out differently.

I give credit to my Jokers who worked hard through the third period but sometimes you have to laugh or cry when the hockey gods don't smile on you.

Last night we all smiled because this is beer league hockey and I'm an Ancient Netminder.




March 1, 2014

Welcome to My Nightmare

The second goal came off my defenseman's stick, rolled up his arm and rocketed into the top corner of the net, putting us down 2-1 with ten minutes left in the third.


I'd played pretty sloppy hockey all night- not finding the smooth movement I've been working on and improving over the past month or two. I struggled my way through the game and managed to keep most of the garbage out of the net. Now we were down a goal and things weren't looking good with our team on the penalty kill.

I watched as one of my wingers picked up the puck on our blue line and put on a coast-to-coast exhibition of beer league hockey at its best, finishing with a two move deke to draw us even late in the third.

Overtime solved nothing and now I had a chance to steal the win for my team. We'd won two straight to open the season at 3-1 after a winless previous season. I wanted to keep the winning streak alive.

After making three easy stops against three shooters, the fourth round began with a push off the crossbar to meet the advancing player making his way toward the net.

Now I'm pin-wheeling my arms wildly with my feet doing a reasonable impersonation of the River Dance. Somehow I'd caught an edge with my left skate and I was within a whisker of losing my balance and landing on my ass. I felt panic as I watched the shooter, who I'm sure was as surprised as I was, lining up for a shot at an empty net.

With mere feet to go before the shooter got to the crease, I somehow managed to lunge my body in the general direction of the net and drop to attempt a save.

The puck found the back of the net. 3-2 loss.

I've allowed goals in almost every way imaginable in the year since returning to the net and now I can mark another variation off the list- losing my balance and almost going ass-over-tea-kettle during a shootout.

I don't remember the post game hand shake or packing my gear in the locker room but I'm having no problem replaying that shootout nightmare.

Playing net is a humbling experience and I was reminded of that again last night.