Philosophical B.S.
Hockey mirrors life in many ways. One of them is when you are up...there is only one way to go (that's down for those having trouble following along).
High
Danny had his mite team-mate and closest friend, Thomas, over after school today (Thursday). They spent over two hours on the rink, all by themselves. They pretended they were in game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals, that they were in a fight, that they were in the penalty box because of it, that they were in a shootout, and so many other scenarios I couldn't keep track of. I kept finding excuses to check on them and listen in, and they hardly knew I was there. They were constantly "announcing" ("and his best friend has just been traded to the Maple Leafs!") or directing each other on what to do, and were completely absorbed in one another. While I was cooking dinner (hey, it's what I do. Deal with it), I would go to the bathroom window and peek out at them and think to myself, "this is why I did it."
Low
Thomas left, we had dinner, and then I subbed for a team I used to skate with last year. We left them to join a new league for a couple of reasons - won't mention their names. Anyway, I thought it would be good to get another skate in this week, so when they called I figured why not. We played the first place team, and were toyed with. One could say abused. At one point we had a power play (that means the other team had one less skater for those who didn't get the "life has it's downs" implyology...I just made that last word up), and they absolutely humiliated us. They had one less skater and yet they spread out and played keep away like the Globetrotters do to the Wizards. I was pissed. We lost 8-5, but it wasn't that close. I took a shot off the foot and my toe nail is already black and blue and due to fall off pretty soon. The other team had a dude who looked like Baby Huey...his helmet looked like it was 6 sizes too small...but he was really good. In fact they had several guys like that. I got thrown around in front of their net like a towel. I hate being a small man. 165 lbs doesn't cut it. I'm starting to realize that at 38, I might not make the NHL.
Moral of the Story
Danny had his mite team-mate and closest friend, Thomas, over after school today (Thursday). They spent over two hours on the rink, all by themselves. They pretended they were in game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals, that they were in a fight, that they were in the penalty box because of it, that they were in a shootout, and so many other scenarios I couldn't keep track of. I kept finding excuses to check on them and listen in, and they hardly knew I was there. They were constantly "announcing" ("and his best friend has just been traded to the Maple Leafs!") or directing each other on what to do, and were completely absorbed in one another. While I was cooking dinner (hey, it's what I do. Deal with it), I would go to the bathroom window and peek out at them and think to myself, "this is why I did it."
Low
Thomas left, we had dinner, and then I subbed for a team I used to skate with last year. We left them to join a new league for a couple of reasons - won't mention their names. Anyway, I thought it would be good to get another skate in this week, so when they called I figured why not. We played the first place team, and were toyed with. One could say abused. At one point we had a power play (that means the other team had one less skater for those who didn't get the "life has it's downs" implyology...I just made that last word up), and they absolutely humiliated us. They had one less skater and yet they spread out and played keep away like the Globetrotters do to the Wizards. I was pissed. We lost 8-5, but it wasn't that close. I took a shot off the foot and my toe nail is already black and blue and due to fall off pretty soon. The other team had a dude who looked like Baby Huey...his helmet looked like it was 6 sizes too small...but he was really good. In fact they had several guys like that. I got thrown around in front of their net like a towel. I hate being a small man. 165 lbs doesn't cut it. I'm starting to realize that at 38, I might not make the NHL.
Moral of the Story
Youth is good, same sh*t different day is bad, and shots off the foot hurt.
Not Done
And another thing...my biggest fear is that my old college friend - and currently an English teacher in R.I. - will take his red pen and correct the crap out of my blog. Chris, I'll slip you an extra Coors if you overlook my dangling participles...I spelled it incorrectly on purpose.
Not Done
And another thing...my biggest fear is that my old college friend - and currently an English teacher in R.I. - will take his red pen and correct the crap out of my blog. Chris, I'll slip you an extra Coors if you overlook my dangling participles...I spelled it incorrectly on purpose.
2 comments:
Scott, I’m with you about the kids. I’ve been trying to pick my youngest up from school and bring her by the house to skate and hit the pucks around before I send her home to her moms. Last weekend my oldest daughter had some friends over for a skate party. The little one (emmie), was out skating with them but stayed out when they came in. As I spied on her from the bedroom window, I could see the look of “make-believe” in her eyes as she skated and made gestures with her hands. This Sunday I am having a Superbowl party (Go Bears). My niece, who happens to be my little one’s best friend, will be here. Even though temps in Chicago will be around 5ยบ, I will bundle them up and let them play outside as long as they want, having some hot-coco at the ready when they come inside. That’s what I remember as a child and I hope that’s what my children will remember.
Thanks for the blog
Jerry
Naperville, IL
I will not correct the grammar at all. Sometimes the content is more important than the form. Scott, you are giving your children a wonderful childhood. You are truly blessed. By the way, I don't drink Coors anymore. My favorite person nowadays is Sam. Sam Adams. Let's hear it for the cold weather. I check out your blog everyday. You are doing a great job
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