| 01.19.04
Adventures at Hockey School: Session Three – The
Phantom Messier
Monday has quickly become “Hockey Night In Chicago”
around here. The evening began with a Team Stanley floor hockey
game at 7pm, which was an enjoyable rout. Enjoyable, since we
were the ones handing out the routing, instead of the other
way around. I eased my way back into the new floor hockey season
by putting up four goals and an assist or two during a 16-2
trouncing of some silly team named “ESD” (Easily
Scored on Defense?).
While the rest of the team went to the post-game dinner at our
sponsor bar, AJ “Where’s My Pit Crew?” Brandt
had the pleasure of changing a flat tire in 10-degree weather.
Upon hearing about AJ’s unenviable predicament, M-J asked
me if I knew how to change a flat. “Sure. Call AAA.”
I offered to drive out to hockey practice, but AJ assured me
that the spare was strong enough to make the trip. I, of course,
put up little argument, since there were seat warmers involved.
Mmmmmmm…seat warmers…
Practices have become less crowded now, as only two out of three
teams are on the ice each week. The new system dictates that
each team has two practices on, then one off. Luckily, our team
has the first two on (so don’t expect an update on 2/2,
kids…sorry).
Consequently, this week, we, the newly named “Phantoms,”
would be practicing with the red squad, now named the “Cobras.”
The blue team, the “Icemen,” had the week off. I
know, I know, Phantoms, Icemen, Cobras, who’s naming these
things? I have a sneaking suspicion that someone in the league
office’s fifth grader has this big sheet of teams and
is naming them the way George Lucas’ kids name characters
in the new Star Wars universe. Of course, I won’t
complain about a CGI teammate named “Jar Jar Binks”
so long as he can score or play solid “D.”
Per usual, we began the evening with a recap of our basic skills.
So I geared up for more stopping/sliding/falling down excitement.
However, this time it was different. I had a brief tête-a-tête
with Coach Bruce and discussed the finer points of ceasing one’s
forward motion. He convinced me to try using just one foot,
while keeping the other off of the ground (and from spinning
me in a circle). After a couple of false starts, I took a few
strides forward, raised my right foot, and slid out with my
left. To my absolute shock and amazement, I came to a dead stop,
and even made a cool “shhhhhhh” sound on the ice.
Eyes as wide as an aging Beverly Hills post-op, I turned to
see if AJ had witnessed my triumph. Just like when I was a kid
in the pool, I yelled out to him, “Did you see? Did you
see? Did you see?” AJ shook his head “no.”
My shoulders sagged and I whined, “You weren’t looking!
This time, watch me!”
I took another series of strides, raised my right foot, extended
my left, and went crashing into the boards.
“OK, wait, let me do that again. Keep watching.”
Stride, raise, extend…dead stop!
“DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!?!”
“Very nice. Now do it again.”
“OK, cool, but you gotta watch.”
It went on like this for about five or six minutes, as I landed
every third or fourth try and AJ politely indulged me with plenty
of grins and non-condescending words of encouragement.
From there we moved onto various skating drills, including one
where Bruce told us to drop to our knees at each blue line,
then bounce back up again. When everyone had reached the other
end of the ice, Bruce smiled and said, “Okay guys, you
don’t have to kneecap yourselves, just drop down and pop
back up.”
Afterwards, we engaged in some fun stick handling exercises,
where we picked a partner to form a human pylon to weave the
puck in and out of. This I took to instantly, and even decided
to add in some verbal dekes to my impressive stick work. Sliding
the puck between my teammate’s legs, I remarked how I
would “move through you like a bad case of Salmonella.”
And so on.
From there, it was on to puck handling and passing drills, and
finally, a chance to go up against the goalies.
Bruce and another coach demonstrated how they wanted us to move
up the ice in pairs, passing the puck back and forth as many
times as possible. Upon reaching the net, whoever had the puck
should try to score. When Bruce got to the net he ripped a wicked
wrister top shelf, but AJ’s glove moved as if it had a
mind of its own and snagged it out of midair. Bruce shook his
head, knowing he’d been robbed, as the rest of us banged
our sticks on the ice in appreciation. You could see AJ’s
smile through his mask from the opposite end of the ice.
Appropriately enough, I would remove said smile on my first
attempt, with a nice dipsy-doodle off of my backhand. Wouldn’t
want him getting over confident, right?
As I knew it would, the ride home was enhanced with the mercifully
built in heating pads of AJ’s car seats. Next week brings
the promise of more actual stops, and dare I dream? Scrimmages. |