So, more often than not, I play in an adult rec ice hockey league, E-League to be precise. It's as low of a level as you think it is. I call it "Clowns-On-Stilts-On-Ice Hockey." Even so, it means the world to me.
The experience is not always fun, however. While the sport on any level is pure, the people playing it, particularly those running the team, aren't always so ideal. I've played on two teams. I left one due to personal conflicts with the captain and team "leadership" and another, called "36-Minutes 'Til... " (Don't ask) kicked me out. I asked to be a sub instead of a full-time player because my social life was on a big upswing and personal time is limited for someone who works second shift, like myself. Apparently that merited getting the boot. I never got a full answer on why, but moved on and lived and let live.
Fast forward about a year. Hadn't played ice hockey in a while and was experiencing my own form of withdraw. I needed it. I could meet some guys I like and joined a team, but did I really want to run the risk of dealing with another convoluted captain situation? I started thinking about all the things I'd expect and want out of a captain. Then it dawned on me, "Why don't I just start my own team and implement things my own way? How hard can it really be to keep people playing hockey happy?"
As it turns out, actually finding guys to play is the hardest part. Anyone who has started a team can attest to the droves of friends who want in at first, but the moment it's time to pay up your bros grow, to quote my father, "alligator arms" and suddenly can't reach their wallets. Only a few friends dove in and made the commitment.
Then I cast as wide of a net as possible. I begged the rec league's commissioner for anyone he knew was interested, I lobby people at the hockey equivalent of a public skate, hit Reddit and even sunk as low as to used often-sketchy Craigslist. I was praying I would get just 10 skaters and a goalie, barely enough to form a bare-bones roster. For a few weeks, it looked like the odds of me finding enough people and raising enough funds to pay the $2,800 team fee would fall woefully short. Even if I did find people I was likely to incur a personal $500 lost to play.
But all that time and focus paid off to the point I was having to turn people away right before the season started. Not only did I acquire enough warm bodies, many were (relatively) skilled. Most new teams lose their games by an average of about 6-2, but ours would at least be mediocre. Our team, the Crew Jackets, would earn a few Ws!
As if getting unceremoniously booted wasn't motivation enough, two weeks prior to the game a handful of players from 36 were at an open hockey skate and apparently took umbrage with me not asking to join up with them. They were rather, let's say, salty towards me. I was so befuddled how they could impossibly conclude they were somehow the wrong party I couldn't even form a response to their barbs.
Come game night, it was more of a the same. I heard chirps I couldn't care enough to hear and understand. I just responded with a smile and a wink to egg them on. I was going to be inside their heads, not the other way around. This was our game to win, not theirs.
The puck drop and the Crew Jackets first ever rivalry game was officially on.
The first period would prove to be a stalemate. Our inexperience but superior athleticism and their experience but lacking athleticism off set the other, leaving the scoreboard 0-0 after the first.
With only 3:12 left to go in the period, I found myself streaking into our offensive zone with my Left Wing linemate Lauren parallel next to me. As I approached the net with two defenders aiding their goalie, I gambled on them over committing in an attempt to stop me and leaving Lauren wide open. Between her and I, I definitely have the better scoring touch. I trusted my instincts. Both defenders chose to charge me. I fed Lauren a backhanded handed saucer pass, meaning I gave the puck a little lift to get over the defensemen's sticks. It landed on Lauren's stick in stride and she buried the puck in the net, I believe even going top shelf, a hallmark of quality accuracy. Maybe she had the better scoring touch after all. We now lead 1-0.
Just two minutes later though, the bottom would fall out.
Our third forward line is the least experienced, least skilled unit on our team. They'll be solid, but they're certainly not there yet. While they were on the ice, they couldn't manage to clear the puck out of their defensive zone. We languished in agony until the one semi-skilled skater on their team found the puck in a scrum in front of our net and scored. It was an unstoppable shot for any goalie the world over. It was now tied 1-1.
Just two minutes later, our top-flight first line committed a poor turnover in the offensive zone, leading to a one on one with an inexperienced skater, my buddy Ryan from high school. He lost his footing and gave the same adversary who scored the first goal against us a clear lane to the net. Tim makes those saves 99 times out of a hundred but it wasn't meant to be. With nine measly seconds left in the second period we were now down 1-2.
Forty seconds into the third period, Tim gathered the puck and cleared it off the side glass. A defender for the other team whiffed on keeping the puck in and fell to my stick. Not to pat myself on the back, but I made nifty little spin move to get the puck to my forehand and maintain my momentum, leaving would be defenders in the dust. I skated in on the goalie and fired when it felt right and knew I scored the goal without even seeing it go into the net. Tim earned a rare goalie assist, and we were now tied 2-2.
The rest of regulation reverted back to being a stalemate without much offense either way.
The three minutes of overtime wasn't enough to find a winner. We were going to a shootout. Given how we had the superior goalie, I liked out chances to pull out the big W.
I was the second shooter for my team and knew my goal would probably seal the deal. I skated in on their inexperienced goalie, faked back hand and went to my forehand to hit the corner. I thought I had the goalie faked out but he was hyper aggressive, charging out of his net, closing the distance and making a quality save to keep his team alive.
It made me half sick. He asked me how his robbery made me feel. With a smile I told him, "About as good as my assist and goal made you feel." Nope, not in my head.
Usually a shootout is a best-of-three affair. The goalies were having none of that, and we found ourselves on our sixth shooter. I was going to go with someone else to make the sixth attempt, but my other linemate, Robert, Lauren's boyfriend, already had one leg swung over the boards. I didn't think he was as skilled of a shooter as my first choice, but he demonstrated he wanted it, that he thought he could do it.
Robert slowly skated in on the goalie and fired a wrister that fluttered off the goalie's shoulder, nicked the post and trickled in. We won! I skated out on to congratulate my linemate, but both team benches let it be known that 36-Minutes had the second shot and we had indeed not won yet. Oops ...
But Tim doesn't let in three goals in one game and shut the gate on the hapless opponent. The Crew Jackets won their first rivalry game. I had done my part to get a little revenge. Good times.
Well, that was probably way too long, but I have to kill time at work somehow!
Hope you enjoyed. More hockey posts are on the way.
Go Crew Jackets!
-Mike
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