Maimed and Mad Moose

Well, the great Moose come back was short lived. I wish I could say that it was because we just ran into some really good teams, but the fact is, bad reffing, injuries and the poor job our league does of creating equity was really the problem.

I've been sending mail on and off for the last 3 years warning league officials that the one really good player on our team was getting mugged game in and game out. What really sucked was, he was getting beat on by teams that were blowing us out; the top few teams in the league who have nothing to fear from us. I repeatedly warned the league director that sooner or later, if the refs didn't call things, D was going to get hurt, and without him, the Moose just aren't competitive.

It finally happened. We had one of the top 3 teams in the league in a tie game in the third period. The team is back-stopped by my friend Baboon, one of my very best friends, who I sub for all the time. We know each others players, and I'm always up for this game, even though we usually get killed by them. I was playing great, we were tied, and I was having a great time.

D got the puck and raced around their net, popping up on Baboons left post. One of Baboon's team mates decided (in his own words) that D "is just to good to give him that scoring chance." His cross check caught D across the throat, lifting him off his feet, pulling his helmet up, and sending D down to hit his head on the ice. D left the ice for the hospital. We lost. Power plays aren't any good without your best guy to play on them, and none of us really felt like playing anyway.

D came back a couple weeks later and tried to play again, and was again hit with a cheap shot, this one to his head. After the game, he sat quietly, and when I asked, D said "Maybe it's best if I don't play in this league any more."

The next game out, we faced a team full of acne-faced kids. Only myself and two skaters could really keep up with them, and by the middle of the game, it was clear that we had no chance. A team of A and B level kids will always beat a team full of 30-40 something guys with day jobs. With 2.5 minutes to go, one of the kids decided their 9-2 lead wasn't good enough, and cross checked my team mate M to the ice. He then hit M with a 2-handed slash that cracked his helmet.

Chances are, the Moose are done with our rink. Some combination of the officials and the rink management has added up to a league that's just not safe. The refs are irresponsible, and sometimes, they are just not good enough to keep up. The rink has lost teams because of a couple of major business closings in the area, and to keep the number of teams up, they are letting guys play in multiple leagues. Since the B league has some amount of A players already, and now guys in B can play C as well, we're seeing whole teams of B players with A guys mixed in, playing in a C league.

All things being sportsmanlike, I wouldn't mind facing B, or even A, shooters. I played B consistently for 3 years, and played A and BB on and off for a couple of years. I'm not going to steal games from A and B players any more, but I'm not scared of them, and I'll still give them a game on my good nights.

What I don't want to do is end any more games in fights, without handshake lines, and then go home mad at 2am. It's not good hockey and it's not good for my soul.

Moosing Again!

After some truly sad losses, including the great ref-gate incident, the Moose finally got back to winning hockey games.

The Moose spent about half the game short handed, which made for lots of work for yours truly. I played great, and I still gave up 4 goals. I also went back to playing my game; a couple of risky passes in my own zone, and penalties, penalties, penalties.

About 6 months ago, I fell flat on my face, stretched all the way out, and covered a puck. After the whistle went, this jerk from the other team hit my defenseman and threw her down on the back of my head and neck. It hurt a little, and it scared me a lot. Your neck ain't made for that kind of abuse, y'know?

So, jump forward to last night, and who should set up to screen me but the same guy. He was slashing at my defenseman, who, in all fairness, was slashing him back. As soon as the puck was cleared, my defenseman and I both hit the guy. He made a satisfying thump as he went down, quickly followed by the expected screech of the whistle. I held my hand up, to make sure they called me, not my penalty-prone defenseman. I figured it would be the only one I took, and this defenseman of mine tends to take lots. Four penalties in our league is an ejection from that game.

End of the third we were up 5-4, and this big kid from the other team decides to come in from the side, carrying the puck, and run me. The exact same move that gave me a blown knee a few years ago. So as he hit me, I hit him, then I stepped over to him and asked if he had anything else to say. (Ok, that's not exactly what I said, but even I have limits on the profanity I'll use in my writing.) He declined, apparently not so thrilled by the prospect of hitting someone that hits back. One of his team mates came over and said some useless things to me that included "pony-tailed fagot," but he too declined my invitation to dance.

The result was a call on the guy who ran me, one on me for hitting him, and a second on me for unsportsmanlike conduct (which is what they do in our league if you invite someone to fight but there isn't actually a fight).

Half of my team mates were thrilled. They prefer that I do the fighting if I get run because most of them don't like to fight. (I don't like it, but I like getting hurt less.)

The other half of my team wasn't so thrilled. A 1 goal lead, last minute of play, and we're down a guy. The other team pulled their goalie, which put us at a two man disadvantage. Lucky for me, one of my team mates hit the empty net from about our blue line to make it 6-4.

Everyone was laughing and smiles in the handshake line except the two guys I actually hit. I can live with that. They still shook hands (as did I) and said good game (as did I). The kid that had called me a "pony-tailed fagot" got a big grin when he shook my hand, and we both had a laugh. I felt a little foolish for letting him bait me into a dumb penalty. It wasn't a smart one to take. I'll have to work on that.

After the game, one of the refs pointed out to me that I had taken 3. It took a second, then I asked, "4 and I'm out, huh?" Yup. "Would you really boot me? I mean, I am a goalie. Would you really boot me for the 4th one?"

The ref just smiled and said we'd certainly have had to have a serious talk about it.