End of the irregular season

Summer season is over, with only playoffs left to go.

We played the Good Sports I've mentioned in previous posts in the second to last game. We pasted them pretty good, but it was clear that they didn't have their whole set of guys there. Someone told me that one of their best players took a header into the boards and broke an arm in the game before we played them. Bummer. I hate to see that happen, especially to guys I like. The game wasn't very competetive, and you could tell that their goalie was fighting an uphill battle. He held them in it for a period, then we pulled ahead. As he so often has, our Brain scientist and poker expert decided he was tired of hanging back, and rushed through everyone to score not one but two goals, breaking the other team's back before the game was half over.

The last game was to be against the youngins we had beat earlier in the season. As it turned out, they didn't have enough players show, so the game was forfeited and then the four guys they had came out to scrimmage against us, along with their goalie. We gave them our manager to even the numbers up. Before the scrimmage, I got warm up shots from one of the reffs, the Harley rider, who used to play in our league.

I had a good night against the young guys, although I have no illusions that their full team would have made things much tougher on me. I learned after the game that their captain had, upon seeing me on the ice, said to our manager, "Oh man, and you have the good goalie here too!" A nice compliment, considering that these kids are now almost half my age.

For the record, age and treachery still beat youth and skill. Me and the old timers from our team beat the kids pretty good. The only person that seemed to have my number was our manager (the bastard!). He got set up out front and knocked in 3 goals, at least 2 one-timers. Pain in the butt, that one.

Playoffs are Thursday, then we break before getting into the fall season.

Black and blue

My summer team played one of the top teams on Monday. I've played these guys every summer now for a few years, and I have to say, I really hate playing them. I hate losing to them even more. They play dirty, but just dirty enough to get and edge, not really dirty enough to hurt anyone, and usually not dirty enough to get called for it. I know, in fact, I learned to play, along with some of their guys, and lots of them remembered me by name. They always say hello, ask how I am, who I've seen around the rink, where I plan to play in the fall. I just f-ing hate it! For 4-5 summers, I've had to play, and usually lose to, these guys. I told one of my skaters, "Just once, I'd like to face them with a team that was good enough to give them a run for it." He smiled and said, "Yeah. That's not us."

Pre-game, I talked to one of the reffs and one of the rink guys. They said that the news of my team beating the number one team a couple weeks ago had spread through the rink like wildfire. One of them told me that it was the talk of the rink for a while. Turns out they were the top A league team last season, and everyone was laughing at them losing to the last place C league team. Everybody likes an underdog.

The reff told me that he found me funny. "There's nothing you can do, you have no defense back to help, they score their 10th goal, and you're still analyzing it." He said he didn't get why I'd bother. After all, I'm not supposed to stop that 10th goal, when the other team comes in 3 on 0, and even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Some nights you can't elevate the team by playing better in goal. If you stop everything, the other guys find ways to pass around you and score any way. Why worry about whether the 10th goal was good or bad on my part?

"Some nights, there's nothing to play for but pride and your own satisfaction," I told him. And it's true: some nights you're so out-gunned that no goalie will win the game for your team, but there is still some satisfaction in making the other guys work hard.

Jump to game time: We started out with both teams in white, since we only have white jerseys, so I couldn't keep track of a damn thing until the rink loaned us some dark jerseys. Even after that, we were getting pounded on. This other team doesn't quit - they try as hard to score when they are up by 8 as they do when they are down by 1. Someone on my team described it as "They're winning 8-1 in the third and skating like they're playing for the Stanley Cup!" Fact is, our opponents are a top BB team (half step below A), and we're a C league team. And it showed. It showed by a score of 10-2. One or 2 were bad goals, but that still leaves about 8 good goals that I didn't have a chance on.

So, we got pounded. I came home bruised up, and I am still sore 3 days later. After the game, I said to one of the refs, "I think that was one of those nights you were talking about."

"Yup," he said, "tonight was just one of those nights."

Ouch... That looked like it really hurt....

Played another game with the summer crew. A couple of the usual suspects were there, plus a special guest star on defense - a woman that a bunch of us know from around. She was a little unsure of herself, but the rest of us were sure enough for her. She played great, had 3-4 blocked shots at least, and was steady at the blue line all night.

I wish I could say the same for the rest of the hangers-on that showed to play. Some of them have skills -- some of them have big time skills! -- and some of them were just adequate. Lots of them have attitude, though. At least 2-3 of my team mates are people I've hit when I played against them (they either don't remember or don't care).

For the second game in a row, we had someone get ejected, this time for drawing blood on a penalty. He basically cross-checked a kid accross the face. The kid is someone I've played against and with, and he's a nice guy, pretty clean player. It was really embarassing. I made sure to talk to him after the game and let him know that the guy was just some sub, not a regular member of our team, and that he wouldn't be back for the fall season when our real team plays. I like rough hockey, but that was a little too much. It also turned the game against us, as the long stopage while they mopped up blood and figured out the penalty killed all my/our momentum.

I played a great first half, then a so-so second half. Let in a couple I wish I could have back, but only one was really bad. Final was 6-3, so my mistake didn't end up making the difference. We just couldn't get enough shots on net durring the second half of the game. The long stop had wrecked my flow, and the loss of a player screwed up the lines.

Come to think of it, I wouldn't be heartbroken to not have that guy skate for us again this summer either...

Age and treachery really do beat youth and skill.

It's true: age, treachery, and a little good goaltending (pats self on back), really do beat youth and skill. I never wanted to believe it, since it meant that I was either old, or destined to lose. This one time, though, I'll take it and be happy.

Our little summer pick up team (last place in the league, with a single point, for our one tie), just knocked off the number one team. I might be the youngest guy we have, at 34. The other team doesn't have anyone old enough to buy beer on it. They are all kids from a local high school. They showed up with someone's little sister in net, a full bench, and the usual teenage kid attitude. We showed up with 6 guys and a goalie. We are, uh, veteran players. (That's the nice way of saying, old).

Their poor goalie was just hosed. I'm not sure how old she was, but she looked and played like she was mid-teens at the oldest. I think she stopped 2 or 3 shots, mostly by freezing like a deer in the headlights and getting hit by the puck. It was a crappy thing for them to do to her, putting her out there like that.

Which is where age and treachery come in. My guys threw rubber on net every chance they had, from near, far, and everywhere in between. We got about 10-12 shots, and scored on 8. Did I feel bad for the kid in net at the other end? Yes, very. Bad enough to pass up the chance to teach the young punks a lesson? Hah! Not a chance!

I played so hard that I thought I was going to barf more than once. I leaned on my knees before faceoffs, mouth hanging open, chest heaving. The "flow" of the game was, they shot, I stopped it, they shot some more, I stopped some more, and then we either iced it, or we sprung a breakaway and scored. Mostly we iced it, or tried to. The kids pretty much held the zone at will, and got whatever shots they wanted. The refs helped them by calling every single penalty against us, then ejecting one of our players so we got to play a man down for a third of the game. I let in 4, and I was well over the magic .900 mark in save percentage. I would guess I stopped somewhere in the 50-60 shot range, which is just nuts in amatuer hockey.

To give credit where credit is due, my posts helped me out on 2 or 3 occassions, as did some advice a friend once gave me: "Stop thinking about what you're doing. You're at your best when you just close your eyes and thrash around like Dominic Hasek." (no, I don't actually close my eyes, even when I get shot in the head) To quote another friend, "Only two things have to happen for us to win: you stop a lot of shots, and I'll score enough goals." He and the other guys came through on Thursday, no doubt.

Going in, I was sure that we were going to get beat. Really sure. Every game, these kids sandbag for two periods, even give the other team a lead, and then just score however many goals they need in the 3rd period to pull out a win by 2-3 goals. They tried that with us. Even with them having a man advantage for half of the third period, I didn't let them come back. I started out determined to make them work for their goals, just to make them show us "old guys" some respect. I ended up determined to teach them a little lesson about being cocky jerks.

Favorite part of the night? They shot, I dropped made a butterfly save on the left post, slid on my knees, made a save in the middle, but left a lot of open net and a big rebound. One of the kids scooped it up, made a nice top-corner shot that should have gone in. Lacking anything else in the area, I stuck my head in front of it. It bounced off my helmet, fell down in front, where I covered it. As I lay on my face on the ice, trying to catch my breath, one of the kids slammed his stick, and said, "Oh, give me a fucking break! You gotta be kidding me!"

I like it when they do that.