| 03.08.04
Adventures at Hockey School: Session Eight – Let The Games
Begin
Welcome to “Greg’s Week Of Hockey,” an AHL-worthy
adventure of five hockey sessions in four days:
Monday = Stanley floor hockey playoffs + final ice hockey practice
Tuesday = Inline hockey game (subbing in)
Friday = Phantoms pickup ice hockey
Saturday = First Phantoms ice hockey game
Monday evening began with a frustrating Team Stanley loss in
the semi-finals of the playoffs. With our top scorer stuck in
a meeting at work, we struggled to put points on the board.
Unfortunately, the other team did not have this problem, and
we watched in agony as their lead began to expand like the Yankees’
payroll. I managed to weave through a few defenders and slip
a shot under the goalie late in the game, but by that time the
rout was on. Final score: 9-2.
As AJ “Mmmm…Nutella” Brandt and I drove out
to Bensenville for our last session of ice hockey school, we
wondered what we might cover, and whether or not we should put
tassels on our helmets for the graduation ceremony. After all,
by midnight we would be official ice hockey players. Somewhere
in Atlanta, my mother is weeping tears of joy and my father
is beside himself knowing that this is one educational experience
he didn’t have to pay for.
While my teammates circled the ice during the initial skate-around,
I noticed Coach Bruce watching the action from the top of the
faceoff circle. I built up a bit of speed and headed straight
for him. Just before crashing into the poor guy, I came to a
neat little hockey stop. He smiled and thanked me for not running
him down. “Thought you’d appreciate seeing a little
applied knowledge, Coach.” We discussed the game plan
for the evening, and Bruce said he was thinking we would spend
most of the time scrimmaging. This sounded good to me, although
I did ask him to go over a few things with us regarding faceoffs,
power plays, penalty kills, and post-game interview clichés.
The Phantoms gathered around Bruce while he demonstrated various
faceoff techniques, and went over the ins and outs of special
teams. Everyone, that is, except for AJ. While we tried to give
our full attention to Bruce, we had to keep one eye trained
on the pucks that were being fired at AJ in net, and occasionally
ricocheting in our direction.
From there, we ran a few drills on our own, including one where
we all formed a semi-circle around AJ in the crease and tried
to shove a puck past him. [Editor's Note: Pay attention, kids,
in the writing “biz” this is called foreshadowing.]
We were sharing the rink with the Icemen this week. The same
Icemen we had beaten 4-2 in our friendly pickup match on Friday.
The same Icemen who had kept me scoreless, after I had predicted
otherwise. I wasn’t very happy, and it was time for a
bit of payback.
Disturbingly, our older, cagier, some might say “chippier,”
foes took the lead within the first minute of play on a wrist
shot that slipped between AJ’s pad and the post. To make
matters worse, they scored another soon after to extend their
lead. As Pete and Bruce goaded us from the ice for falling behind,
I began screaming for a line change and a chance to tie things
back up.
Seconds after hitting the ice, we moved the puck into the Icemen’s
zone. I curled behind their left winger and began to glide towards
the top of the faceoff circle. Seeing me, my center slipped
a pass my way, and I drilled a slapshot five-hole for the score.
My teammates began congratulating me, but I only felt an odd
anger about still being down by one. I think the abuse I had
suffered earlier in the evening was driving me to win, lest
I get shamed twice in one night. I tightened my grip on my stick
and yelled at everyone to get back to the faceoff circle, because
“We’re not done yet!”
On my next shift, I picked the puck up at center ice, darted
through two defenders and again launched the puck under the
goalie. Now the game was tied at two and I felt marginally better.
Of course, this feeling of contentment was short lived, as I
managed to blow my defensive coverage responsibilities and allow
an Iceman to flip a backhanded shot over AJ’s shoulder
for the go-ahead goal. My plus two rating quickly shrank down
to one.
Luckily for me, one of our defensemen tied the game up on a
great breakaway, and we roared with approval from the bench.
I tried in vain to get the hat trick (and game winner), but
was stymied again and again; including a beautiful glove save
on what I thought was a sure thing top-shelf.
As the clock wound down, and Pete announced that this would
be the final shift, I watched in futility from the bench. No
amount of my begging for “two more minutes” could
alleviate the presence of the rink manager warming up the Zamboni
(the hockey equivalent of the fat lady doing vocal exercises
off stage). But just when it seemed we would have to settle
for a tie, there was a scrum in front of the Icemen’s
net. All three of our forwards were whacking away at the puck,
which the goalie couldn’t seem to grab. Suddenly, all
three forwards victoriously threw their arms in the air, while
the Icemen began to hang their heads in disbelief. 4-3, Phantoms!
“We’re just glad to get the win, Panger, “
I commented, “it was a team effort and the bounces went
our way.”
Ice hockey school had come to an end, and starting Saturday,
our eight-game season will commence. We are truly coming together
as a team, and I think our chances against the Icemen and Cobras
are better than average. Best of all, my helmet doesn’t
feel like a vise anymore, I can actually come to a complete
stop most of the time, and I’ve earned the respect of
my hockey playing peers. My next goal? A championship, a scoring
title, and a car with seat warmers for next winter (in that
order).
so STAY TUNED… |