Monkeying Around

I am so intensely tired that I can't write a full account of last night's game right now, so I'll just give a couple of the highlights and return later with more details (hopefully). I think from now on I'm also going to bring a piece of paper and a pen to the bench with me, so I can jot down keywords to remember for later like I did when I was in Korea. Helps me post more quickly.

We won 8-2 — And yet I was -1 for the night. :( Had some chances and some shots on goal, but went wide of the net on one possible tip-in (again), and had an attempted one-timer ricochet off my stick in the wrong direction (picture the puck going high into the glass over my left shoulder as my stick moved to the right, toward the net).

Al had a hat trick — And two of the goals were scored on a single shift. The man who once moaned that he could never finish on a breakaway is now on a roll (and putting me to absolute shame). Even better, Jim, who plays on Al's line, had 5 points for the evening.

I went to the fights, and a hockey game broke out — All night I'd been matched up against a guy with little skill but lots of shove-and-slash, but I didn't really think it would go anywhere (except in the net, as he once caused a shot to bounce off my shinpad and nearly get by the goalie when he shoved me into the crease as Hoche let one fly). Anyway, I was saying that I hadn't expected anything too nasty from him. However, I hadn't counted on Inga letting him know how pathetic he was by (a) outright telling him so, and (b) by scoring a goal within seconds of *him* telling *her* that he was going to get her. Of course, she couldn't resist smiling and saying, "Thanks for coming to get me!" after she did.

I'm assuming the bitch-slap by Inga and the 6-goal differential on the scoreboard made him incredibly frustrated, and seeing as how I was the only suitable target on the ice, he came after me. I hadn't had time to compare notes with Inga at the time, so I was unaware of this pent-up hostility toward females; I just knew that he was being a jerk. I got squished rather violently on the boards (where do they learn this stuff? TV? hello dudes, this isn't the NHL), managed to extract myself, and crashed the net as (I think Phil) shot on goal. The goalie dove but missed the puck, and I reached out to try to knock it under his pads and into the net. I did this ever-so-gently, mind you—no stabbing or whacking involved—but the goon took offense and brought his stick down on mine like he was freaking chopping firewood. And then he elbowed me in the chest, knocking me backwards over the side of the net.

I was screaming expletives at him before I even hit the ice (hard, on my left elbow, because my legs were still pinned to the goalpost by the crush of bodies), and Baldwin stepped in to give him the business. Phil, ever my valiant protector, came at him, too, and the refs had to separate everybody. I swear, I would have taken a swing at the guy myself, but as I said, I was pinned down by the offender, Baldwin, and now the ref. The interesting thing is that the refs apparently didn't see the slash or the elbow; they only saw Baldwin try to take the guy's head off. It was only in trying to figure out why Baldwin was so mad that they determined what had happened, and assigned penalties to both teams. So thank you, Baldwin and Phil, for pointing out the foul play.

Quote of the Day — Here is where I wish I had brought a piece of paper with me to the bench. Someone (Baldwin? Phil? Fuz?) said something I thought was funny at the beginning of the game, and I made a mental note that I would blog about it. Of course, I've totally forgotten what the quote was, not to mention who said it.

More later, as things come back to me...

Posted by Lori in Gang Green ~ Summer 2003 | May 5, 2003·05:12 PM