Tuesday, December 15, 2009
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me Six Fucking Douchebags, Five ... Straight ... Road ... Wins ........ Four Pints of Beer, Three Frenchmen, Two Sausages and Lubomir Visnovsky.
Played hockey with Capsule Saturday night, we came in looking for our third straight win, we'd had a nice start and then a couple of injuries and some other attendance issues left us fighting an uphill battle in a few games and we fell off the pace a bit. But we got back on the rails and so we headed out to St. Mike's, an arena where we play poorly more often than not, for whatever reason. Our opponent is a team we had handled pretty easily last month and so while we were missing a couple of guys, including our best player, we still figured to come out on top. When we hit the ice we saw that they had but seven skaters and we quickly fell into the trap. You see that many players and you let down right away, we had won a game back in October when we were shorthanded as well. When you are in that situation there's no fucking around, its basic survival, man the barricades but when you see an opponent who is short its tough not to let down.
I was a little late and got to the bench with three minutes gone and we were already down. Before I hit the ice we were down two. They may have had seven guys but it became pretty clear that two were going to play pretty well the whole game, a quality older defenceman and a young stocky guy who could fly. He had potted both goals, floating a bit and then charging to the attack, catching us flatfooted.
We spent the next while getting our skating legs and then we began to come on. Attack after attack was blunted at their blue and they dumped it out and we regrouped. We started to get some penetration and their keeper made three terrific stops to keep us off the board until we finally potted one.
Problem is their guy completed his trick almost immediately afterwards.
Down two again it soon became clear that we weren't going to be denied. We began to get the puck deep and their guys, already pretty tired, began to have to engage in battles along the boards. They started to get pretty weary. We pulled within one, then evened it up, then pulled ahead with about six minutes left. They had little going on.
The danger remained though as their single weapon began to float out behind our D, looking for that one break to get them back to evens. With about three minutes left we got the power play, I jumped over the boards, skated by our blue and warned them to be aware.
Problem is we played it like we were down one instead of up one. First one D pinched to keep the puck in and then as he circled the net our second D cruised into the slot looking for the pass. Problem is only one forward thought to cover, that being me.
Did I mention I can barely skate backwards?
There was a flurry out front and the puck squirted loose right to the one guy we did not want to have it. He cut across the zone and headed up ice, blowing by our two other forwards. I was skating towards our net. I'd like to say I got on my horse but its more like a mule at this point. My horse, that is.
So I turned at our blue and buddy came flying in on my right. I had a great angle on him, although I knew that if he knew my capabilities he would have gone outside on me. This summer I had found myself in the same position against another big strong kid half my age and buddy had gone right by me like nothing.
He had scored on a bullet earlier but his angle was iffy and so he cut in.
Did I mention I hate losing?
I remembered what I always taught kids, whether it be hockey or soccer, about defending. I looked directly at his chest and then did what any desperate oldtimer would do faced with that situation.
I laid him out.
Like most players I play best when I am aggressive and in the past I have done things in the heat of the moment but I'm not really a dirty player. I used to be one to give a guy a whack when he skated by but that's rare these days. I get in there and I'll battle and if someone gives me a shot I won't just take it but I'm not one to initiate shit.
This was out and out cold though, I knew as soon as he cut in what I was going to do. If we had been up by two or more I would have tried the stick check but this was it and so I drove right into him.
Lets get one thing straight, like a father says before he spanks his son, it hurt me a lot more than it hurt him. My shoulder is killing me and my throat isn't quite right. Well deserved of course. Buddy was all muscle and had a few inches and twenty pounds on me and I'm not Charles Atlas by any means.
He was pissed, rightfully so, and as we got up I skated directly to the box, joining one of my teammates. They had two guys in the box already and one of them called me a fucking douchebag. Seeing as he was in there for punching one of our guys in the head and had also sent one of our guys into the boards feet first at a good rate by sticking his stick between his legs as he headed into the corner I wasn't too worried about that.
There were but two minutes left and we won the game and shaking hands buddy wasn't in a forgiving mood, calling me a 'fucking little prick' if I heard him correctly. I'm sure he's got my number and next time we play I'm going to pay the price.
All for an extra point in beer league hockey.
Fuck am I dumb.
Still, it was nice to get the win.
Posted by Black Dog at 7:00 AM