Ice, Ice Baby

I did it: I pulled the trigger and signed up for the HNA summer league in Philadelphia. At first I was thinking that it would be a nuisance to travel 45 minutes to Oaks and Warminster (the only two rinks in operation last summer) for games, but after getting on the ice for the first time since getting pregnant—at an open skate at UPenn—I was psyched to play hockey again. I'm still not sure I would have signed up if Al hadn't encouraged me to do it, so thanks to Al for the push.

We (or I—Al just watched) went skating again this past Sunday, and I found I had even more moves than last week, though fewer edges. (Al got my skates sharpened for me when he went to his game in Warminster that night, so hopefully next week will be better). I can't wait to get back on the ice *with my gear on*, although I fear that with the extra 10 lbs. of baby weight I'm still carrying around, my hockey jock (and perhpas other gear) won't fit. God, I hope I can get my shoulder pads on over these enormous boobs...

The summer season starts in June, and with any luck, I'll have the Vancouver tournament as a pre-season warm up. I *love* that tournament, and I have every intention of going if we can get a Spitfire team together. So far there haven't been many replies to Michele's request for players on the Spitfire mailing list; I'm hoping that the few women who did respond will be able to grab a couple friends to bring. If you're interested in playing with us (we play in the lowest bracket), comment on this post and I'll hook you up with Michele for more info.

Posted by Lori at 01:49 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Pre-Season Practice

I went to my first practice with the Galaxy last night out in Oaks. (Did I mention that the league director placed me on the Galaxy, which is Al's team in the Fall/Winter?) Weirdly, I wasn't particularly nervous; now that I think of it, I wasn't nervous (for perhaps the first time ever) in Vancouver, either, so it's not just that I got the jitters out of my system up in Canada. Maybe it's that after taking so much time off, I'm more relaxed on the ice? Maybe motherhood has mellowed me? I'm not sure.

Anyway, I skated fine. Didn't do anything hugely impressive, and only had a few minor embarrassments. Since our captain, Mattias, couldn't make it, Fred (the assistant captain) ran the practice. We did two drills, horseshoe and 2-on-1, and then scrimmaged "to get used to playing like a team." The horseshoe drill went pretty well, but the 2-on-1 was pretty half-hearted (or maybe that was just me); I got the feeling nobody really knew what we were doing (or rather, why we were doing it).

The scrimmage was fun, though I'm not sure it really got us used to playing like a team. I made a mental note halfway through it that "drills are no indication of skills." What I meant was that the very players who weren't very good at either drill were actually much better when it came to playing. I then realized that what these guys were good at were two things that I suck at—namely, protecting the puck and dekeing (how do you spell deke-ing, anyway?)—which are more individual skills than team skills. So this should be an interesting season... I wonder if anyone will pass?

Speaking of passing, I had one nice moment when I managed to knock Fred off the puck (perhaps because he was tired or because I'd lulled him into complacency with my hitherto underwhelming puck-stealing skills) with a good forecheck, and then managed to pass to the fellow (Alan, I think) I saw streaking into the zone out of the corner of my eye. He caught the puck as he came through the slot, shot, and scored. I heard someone whoop, "THAT'S how it's done!" I said to Alan afterwards, "that's what I'm *always* looking for: someone coming through the slot." Seriously guys, I'm an assist machine. I love nothing better than to dig the puck out of the corner and zing it into the slot. Be there or be square. :)

Some more thoughts on passing before I move on to shooting: I noticed that the player I think is probably the strongest among us passed a little softly to me, as most strong players do. If I miss a pass from a stronger player once, he seems to think I can't catch passes at all—and he'll pass softer and softer until I have no chance of *ever* catching one because I have to keep slowing down. Pass harder, please—I'd rather try to work up to your level than have you come down to mine (and pass me on the way down, so to speak, in the process). Meanwhile, just about everyone else who passed to me passed off the boards rather than to my stick. My first choice would be tape to tape, but failing that, a pass to the boards in front of me is much better than one to my skates, so I'll take it. I don't think I ever had any trouble getting the puck off the boards.

I do remember picking up the puck in the neutral zone once, however (I'm not sure if it was from a pass, or from someone losing/abandoning the puck), and immediately being confronted by an opposing player. Having no moves with which to deke him, and not wishing to get the worst of a collision, I put my shoulder down and managed to take us both out. (I'm not sure who ended up with the puck, but it was neither one of us.) It was only as we were going down that I realized it was Doug, who's over 70 (seriously!). Matt gave me shit for it when I came off the ice several minutes later: "So you took out the old guy. Nice going." (I apologized to Doug later, but he said it was no problem; he recognized that I was just trying to protect myself.)

Now, to shooting. I had some fairly decent shots during the warm-up, two 5-hole goals during the horseshoe drill, and fart all the rest of the time. I really need to relax and take my time in order to shoot well, and if there's a goalie in the net and defenders advancing from all sides, I tend to spaz rather than relax. Luckily just about everyone else on the team seems to shoot well, so if all goes well I can just rack up points from assists, as usual, rather than from goals.

If there's one player whom I expect to score on a regular basis, it's the super-nice guy I think of as Happy Gilmore (although his personality is more happy than Happy's, and I think his name is Derek :). His skating style is... well, it reminds me of those car-chase scenes from the 70s where one of the vehicles would invariably go up on two wheels. But man, he's got a great shot—and it's all the more surprising because he can make it from off balance on the wrong foot. No one on an opposing team will expect it, but I bet he'll top-shelf the puck at least once a game.

I'm not sure what position I'll be playing in our first game (which is tomorrow night in Warminster), but I hope it isn't D. I also don't know what number I'll be, or even how to get to the rink (I suppose I should look that up on Mapquest). I think it probably is motherhood that's chilling me out, because I'm more worried about getting Austen to go to sleep before I leave for the game than about how well I'll play in the game itself. I do hope I do well, though. My goal is to be playing as well as Inga (from Gang Green) by the end of the year, and if I'm going to accomplish that, I'd better buckle down and skate hard.

Posted by Lori at 10:37 AM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Perspective: It's Not Just For Hockey Anymore

Played my first game with the Galaxy on Wednesday night in Warminster (damn, that rink is far away!) and got to meet a few new teammates. I also got to re-meet a few whose names hadn't stuck in my mind from Monday. First was Mattias, our captain, whom I knew by sight and voice because I watched him run Al's first Galaxy practice last fall, and because I'd heard him on our answering machine. He seems like the ideal team captain-type: serious about hockey, and organized. He was introducing himself to those he didn't know, donning hockey gear, and handing out jerseys all at the same time when I walked in.

As was the case on Monday, nobody seemed to want to sit next to me (dudes, I'm not going to be trying to sneak a peek, I promise) until Eric came in. He took the spot next to me cheerfully enough, and greeted me with "how's your baby?" I was a little surprised, but I recovered quickly and responded that he was great. It turns out that Eric has a 10 1/2 month-old daughter, so we spent our locker room time comparing notes on napping and pumping and our first Mother's Day and Father's Day. Meanwhile, after a few false starts on the jersey front (we'd been given numbers 1-18 and 22, so my usual #19 wasn't an option, and the 22 I settled for ended up being an XXL that was way too big for me), I ended up with #8, which seems fitting.

I was fully dressed and starting to wonder what position I'd be playing when Mattias finally read off the lines... after first making an appeal for two people to play D. We had 15 skaters but only 4 confirmed D, and nobody seemed eager to move back, so Mattias had to "volunteer" a couple people. Luckily, I wasn't one of those volunteered, and the guys who were didn't protest. I was put on the third forward line with Doug (the "old guy", as some of the players refer to him, though I swear when he puts on his gear you'd never guess him to be anything over 45) and Lee, whom I hadn't met. When we got out on the ice Doug and I tracked down Lee; it was Doug's plan that Lee should play Center, since that position involves more skating than Doug felt equal to. I had no objections; although I enjoy Center, I prefer Left Wing, and I figured I probably wouldn't be strong enough to be a Center in this league anyway if the other team was anything to go by. Doug also preferred Left Wing, it turned out, but though he was willing to play Right, I volunteered to move mainly because Al also usually plays Right, and I figured it would be convenient if we ever wanted to split a roster spot.

It was clear from the warmup that (a) the other team was packed with Monday/Tuesday-level players (on the Ice Oasis scale), and (b) Lee was Tuesday all the way. This was confirmed our first time out on the ice together, and every time subsequently as well. Though I formulated a plan at every faceoff for what I would do with the puck if it came to me (pass back to the D, pass up to Lee, shoot on goal, whatever), I never had to implement any of them. Every faceoff Lee won (and he won most of them), he managed to win by keeping the puck himself and blowing by the other Center—and sometimes both Defensemen. More often both Defensemen would converge on him, and he'd be fighting them both off all the way into the zone, with me streaking in on the right side a few strides behind. One time, I think on a breakout rather than a faceoff, I apparently came in so fast it actually looked like a 2-on-1, and I paid for my speedy skating with a shoulder check to the chest from the even-speedier trailing Defenseman.

The funny thing about that is that although I was surprised (and a bit sore—when you're breastfeeding, the last place you want to take a hit is in the chest), I wasn't really mad. This was a theme throughout the game, actually. I barely noticed when I was tripped without getting a whistle (the lack of whistle was probably due to the lack of dive on my part), and I don't think I yelled once (except to say, "yay, Gerry!", "nice shot, Adam!", or "good job, Gavin!"). I couldn't even work up any animosity in what would otherwise have been called an argument with Matt over what he thought was a bad play, and I thought was a good mistake. During a breakout Bill was skating toward the bench side of the ice when he spotted another Galaxy player ahead of him, and I saw him try to line up a pass to the other player's stick. In the process, two opponents converged on him, and he lost the puck. Matt started screaming at him from the bench. I said, rather easily, "oh, c'mon. He was trying to make a nice pass." Matt responded somewhat vehemently that he'd rather have him dump the puck than lose it at the blueline. I shrugged, smiled, and said, "me, I'd rather have the nice pass."

I can't remember if it was at this point that Derek remarked to me, "that's because you have a kid"—again to my complete surprise—or whether it was when I expressed some confusion that Matt would want to go straight from the penalty box to the ice when (a) he'd already skated a full shift when he'd gotten the penalty, and (b) his line wasn't out. It might have been when I wondered aloud about the seriousness of Mattias' between-period pep talks. In any case, Derek's point was that with a child comes perspective. "You know what's important," he said, "and what isn't worth wasting energy on." I was surprised because I was just exploring this idea internally (and in my last post here) and thought it was a novel concept; I didn't realize it was a well-known and universally-accepted maxim.

Anyway, back to my line... It didn't take long to realize that Lee was really too good for me; I probably would have been more useful to someone less skilled. I don't think I touched the puck more than once in the game, so I never got a chance to pass to someone in the slot at all, much less to get an assist. The one time I did touch it was after Lee crashed into the boards behind the goal line, the victim of a "fucking tackle," as the ref called it. I tried to do *something* with the puck, but with Lee still down, Doug on the other side of the ice, and the Defensemen waiting for possession to change so we'd get a whistle, I didn't have anyone to pass to, and I didn't have enough skill or strength to turn and shoot from the board-side hashmarks. With gray jerseys swarming around me, my stint with the puck was short-lived.

As the score ran up (it was 5-0 when Bill lost the puck at the blueline—and I ask you, what better time to try to make a nice pass than when it's unlikely that dumping the puck will get us a goal or prevent the other team from scoring one?), things got a little chippy in front of our net. Still I couldn't engage the part of my brain that would have joined in the screaming at the refs and the dorks from the other team in seasons past. I watched the scuffles with interest, but that's about it. (I happened to be watching one in front of our opponents' net when Adam scored our one and only goal, so I missed the shot. He said afterwards that it was a slow rebound that came right onto his forehand side, which gave me hope that all my net-crashing—which was about the only useful thing I could do on my line—might result in a goal someday.)

As the game went on and I had a chance to talk to more players on the bench, I realized that most of us were on the same page about skating well, playing as well as we could, and if possible, winning. Or not—whatever, as long as we had fun. However, I couldn't help murmuring to a teammate, somewhat tentatively, that our team seemed to be one of... individual efforts. (Actually, this was somewhat true of the opposing team as well, though since their skill level seemed to be higher than ours, individual efforts still amounted to team play sometimes.) He concurred, and said out loud what was on my mind: that while there's plenty of team spirit, there doesn't seem to be much understanding of what it is to play a "team game." I bet if we had a practice with a real coach, like the first one I had with the Spitfire, people would be just as puzzled as I had been about what we were doing with each drill and why. (I wonder if they'd find Hoche's incredibly-detailed e-mails about Gang Green strategy interesting?)

In any case, we lost our first game 7-1 or 8-1 (I can't remember, and couldn't care less). I discovered in the locker room after the game that the team we'd played was in an upper division, which makes sense; apparently there are only three teams in our division, so there's some cross-division play. Next week's game (at the same night and time, and at the same rink) is against a team from our division. (Mattias cautioned us not to be overconfident; apparently the team we're playing isn't very good, but overconfidence bit the Galaxy last season when they lost to this team by three goals.)

I was unusually quick getting out of the locker room, perhaps because Al was waiting for me at home rather than sitting on the bench next to me. I called him from the parking lot to tell him that I'd had fun playing hockey and that I was on my way home, and in return, he gave me the news that Austen had gone to bed without a struggle at 8:45. If we can say the same next week, it'll be a victory no matter what the score.

Posted by Lori at 11:03 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Has It Really Been Five Years?

On meeting my new Galaxy teammates last week, many asked how long I've been playing (I assume because I look very much like a beginner). I replied that I started in 2000, but that I've really only been playing for a little over three years, since I played my last league game (prior to last Wednesday's) in September 2003.

I ended up looking at some older posts from this blog as I was writing the post about my first Galaxy game (mainly to remind myself how to handle certain game situations), and I noticed that my very first hockey blog post was five years ago today. Wow. I knew I'd been writing for a while, but I didn't realize it was FIVE YEARS.

On a tangentially-related note, Al and I were at a barbecue last weekend where we met the boyfriend of one of Al's cousins. We were talking about sports, and we mentioned that Al and I were hockey fans... and hockey players. "That's great!" he said. "I have a friend who plays, too"—and here he looked at Al's cousin for confirmation—"what is [name], 32? And he's STILL PLAYING!" I smiled and said, "well, I'm 36, and Al's 37, and we still get around OK." It was only in the car on the way home that Al reminded me that neither of us *started* playing until we were 31.

It occurs to me that we'd both also qualify for the over-35 leagues now, at least age-wise. (Although the players in these leagues often refer to them as the "old and slow" leagues, they're usually populated with former high school and college players. These guys are only older and slower than they used to be, which is still faster than we are.) It also occurs to me that Al's cousin's boyfriend might be shocked to learn that at least half the Galaxy have got to be older than his 32 year-old friend. I'm not sure what the average age of our current roster is (I'm sure Doug, at 70+, skews that a bit), but I do know that at the first practice one of the guys said that he also had a 6 month-old... granddaughter.

Anyway, my point was: Time flies, especially when you're having fun. Happy fifth birthday to this blog!

Posted by Lori at 05:47 AM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Floater

What is it that people have against three centers and two sets of wings? Apparently the Galaxy's SOP when there's an extra forward is to have that forward float through one line a period—not one position a period, as the Spitfires did in Vancouver, but one line. This means playing a new position every shift. And of course, either because I'm new or because they think I'm the weakest player, I was asked to be the floater, to start on the second line, and to sit first. I was against the floater scheme, not because I thought it would decrease my ice time, as Fred assumed, but because I think it's confusing. I wasn't able to convince Mattias to go with three centers, however. "If Bill shows up it's a whole different story, because then we can have two centers and three sets of wings," he said, "but if he doesn't, we're going with the floater." Why two centers and three sets of wings is OK, but three centers and two sets of wings is not, I do not understand; if anyone knows, feel free to explain in the comments.

In any case, I got together with the rest of the guys on the second line (Doug at LW, Eric at Center, and Matt at RW) and devised a plan for rotating from left to right. I totally missed the fact that I was supposed to change to the first line in the second period and then back to the second line in the third (I ended up doing second line, second line, first line, though in middle of the third period Matt got tired at RW, and I ended up back on the second line again). The system worked better than I thought it would, and one of the evils I'd anticipated—that I'd be playing with different people every time—turned out to be one of the biggest positives. It gave me a chance to see how well I worked with different guys and at different positions. And, weirdly, I think we weren't getting in each other's way as much in this game as we were in the last game (though Eric and I did actually run into each other at one point).

I had thought I would have trouble remembering which position I was playing each time, but possibly because I was so worried about this I had even less trouble staying in position than usual. It also probably helped that the team we were playing was a better match for us than the Ice Raiders were (although they did have one University of Wisconsin player who manhandled just about every guy on our team—much to our guys' dismay, since the UW player was a woman :). The more even level meant that there was more time for team play, and believe it or not, there actually *was* some team play. I got a pass on my first shift on the ice, in fact, and at the ref's suggestion, there was even some talk about trying out a triangle (Eric in particular was very excited to try it, once I outlined how it worked). We never quite got a real triangle going, but we came close enough a few times; I got two shots on goal from the slot (one my own rebound) off a pass from Eric from behind the net, and Mattias and someone else (can't remember who) actually scored a goal with the same setup.

Although I didn't score any goals, I felt like I skated hard and fast, passed fairly well, and played each position convincingly enough; consequently, I had a great time. I was even specifically called to come out on the ice during a penalty kill, to my complete surprise—I involuntarily did that "you talking to me?" look over my shoulder when I heard my name being shouted from the faceoff circle—and learned later that it was because Matt thought "we should have some more speed on the ice." It was almost flattering. (I say almost because it felt like more of a slight to Doug, whose turn it was to go out, than a compliment to me.) That I fell down while trying to clear the puck during that penalty kill didn't matter much, as I still managed to tie up a couple sticks in the process and leave the puck for one of my teammates to clear.

I enjoyed playing with Lee more this week (the few times we were on the ice at the same time, anyway); he seemed more comfortable at Left Wing, and I had more to do at either Center or RW. Playing with Doug and Eric worked pretty well, too; we were very scrappy down low, and we managed to keep the puck in the offensive zone for quite a while. This week was so different for me puckwise; whereas last week I could count the number of times I touched the puck on one finger, this week I touched it on almost every shift. I loved having an opportunity to pass and shoot and skate. I wish I'd been a little more aggressive with the forechecking, especially against the UW player, but I felt like my backchecking was fairly decent. (I had the sense that I was skating hard when I was on the ice, but I was sure when I got out of the car at home and felt the soreness in my hip muscles.) I remember one play where I had the third man in all the way—I kept my shoulder in his chest, and consequently kept him from getting around me. Though I was sad that the Admirals scored on us anyway, at least it wasn't the guy I was covering who did the shooting.

I noticed that there were a couple breakdowns in team play while I was on the ice toward the end of the game—lots of whacking at the puck with no sense of where we wanted it to go, no looking for passes, etc.—but I was pleasantly surprised by how organized we were most of the time. Not quite as organized as my old Gang Green squad, but close.

On the downside, I was a little appalled by all the snarky comments about the UW player and the female goalie (including a "five hole" remark that seemed in especially poor taste); saying "she's kinda cute" *sounds* like a compliment, but it's not. What the woman behind the face cage looks like is hardly the point when her slap shot is harder than yours, she can take you down with a flick of her hip, and she can skate around you like you're standing still. It's a way of objectifying her, of saying, "she's just a girl, just something to look at." And it's ironic that the same guys who'll remark on her looks will, in the next breath, question whether she's a girl at all. I've got news for you: It doesn't take a Y chromosome to outskate you guys. Interestingly, my teammates don't seem to feel any need to objectify me (at least to my face); I'm assuming that this is because my hockey skills pose no threat to their egos. (I do get teased on the bench—for example, when I was the one player not involved in shouting-and-pushing match in front of the net, I was accused of starting it—but it's kinda sweet rather than offensive. :)

After getting a chance to see me at every position (and in combination with almost every other player), I'm curious to see where Mattias puts me next week. I assume I'll be on the last line, regardless of position... but you never know. If I can get called out on the ice for a penalty kill, anything can happen.

Posted by Lori at 11:59 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

The Psychological Impact of Passing

If last Wednesday's game was an 8 for me, this Tuesday's was a 3. I felt even worse than I normally would have about it, too, since Al was there watching (and taking photos). On the plus side, knowing that it was possible to have someone (in this case, my mom) stay home with Austen while Al and I were both out at the rink made us consider something we hadn't before: Maybe both of us can play next season! Something to explore, anyway.

Regarding my suckiness in this game, of course I have a theory about it. Partly it was that I tied my skates too tight, and I couldn't feel my feet. But mostly I think it had to do with not feeling like I was part of the game/useful to the team. I've noticed that when I get to be part of a play—no matter how insignificant—early in the game, my performance for the rest of the game tends to be better. For example, I think that getting a pass (and handling it well) on my first shift on the ice last week set the tone for the entire game. It didn't matter that I was in the uncomfortable floater spot; that pass was encouraging. It sucked me in to the game and gave me a purpose on the ice.

My first shift on the ice this week, by contrast, demonstrated (to me, at least) how insignificant and unnecessary I was. Instead of passing to me on our first shift, one of my linemates decided to carry the puck end to end himself—and practically mowed me down at the blueline on his way to the net in the process. Yep, we could have gone in together; he could have passed to me instead of skating at me, and I would have gladly set him up for the score instead of shooting myself. He would have had a better opportunity to score, in fact, because the defensemen would have had to worry about both of us instead of just him.

My linemate was certainly under no obligation to pass to me; he had every right to take the puck in himself and try to score if he felt he could. I would have cheered him loudly if he had. And granted, this was the first time we'd played together, so it's completely possible that he wasn't aware that I could not only keep up with him, but also be wide open and looking for a pass as we came through the neutral zone. For my part, I wasn't aware of his tendency to try to take the puck end to end himself, or I would have just followed him in, crossing to the middle as he moved right, instead of trying to stay open for a pass.

Of course it's only in hindsight that I realize that our problem was unfamiliarity with each other; at the time, it just seemed that he didn't have any use for me. And mentally, that took me out of the game. Though Matt Z. was the floater this week, and I always went out at Right Wing, I felt less sure of my role, less sure of where I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to be doing than I did last week. I was like some soul-searching existentialist asking, "why am I here? What is my purpose?" on almost every shift. Consequently, I did practically nothing (until the end of the game, when I risked adding injury to insult by falling down a lot).

It wasn't *all* bad; I did have two moments of glory that I can recall... I just couldn't sustain the momentum for more than those shifts. In the first I got a breakaway and managed a shot on goal. The goalie attempted to cover the puck and missed it, and as I tried to calculate where to swing my stick to best poke it free, the referee blew the whistle. (I took some shit from my teammates for not whacking away at the semi-loose puck, even post-whistle.)

The second moment of glory I'm almost prouder of, probably because not only did I skate with the puck, but I also refused to let a defender knock me off it. I carried into the zone from about the redline, and as a defender approached at an angle and tried to cut me off, I popped the puck over his stick along the boards and attempted to follow it. As I squeezed through, the defenseman tripped, I apologized, and I emerged with the puck. No whistle was blown, so either the guy just looked klutzy, or I got lucky. I can't remember what happened next; the photo on the right just shows me coming out of the corner with the puck, not what I did with it. It's possible that I took a second shot on goal.

There's no game this week (possibly because of the holiday), but I hope to take what I've learned about my teammates' tendencies—and my own—into next week's game. I shouldn't need a pass to have a good time (or a good game).

Posted by Lori at 10:51 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

What's Wrong With This Picture?

rink diagram courtesy of LifeTime Hockey

OK, there are probably several things wrong, but the one I'm thinking of involves the whistle that's about to be blown.

I kept thinking that I would post about our July 11th game against the Stampede before the one on the 26th against the Sharks, given that there were two weeks between them... but as is probably obvious by now, that didn't happen. In fact, I didn't even write about the Sharks game before last night's game against the Firebirds. Sheesh! With any luck, Austen will nap for at least an hour, and there will be a flurry of posts about my recent hockey adventures. Stay tuned.

Posted by Lori at 12:55 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Get Back!

I can't remember much about our game against the Stampede last month, except that I felt good about the way I played (aside from one incident, which I'll describe in a minute). Here's what I do remember:

Mattias paired me up with Gerry, mainly because I like Left Wing, and Gerry likes Right. (Up until this game, Gerry'd been stuck playing D.) Gerry and I have very different skating styles, but I think if we were to race, we'd be about the same speed. We also have one other thing in common: we both tend to look for the pass when we get the puck rather than skating with it ourselves. I'm not sure that's the best trait to have in common with a linemate, but at least we weren't running into each other most of the time. :) I honestly can't remember who our Center was; I think I remember being on the ice with Murph a couple times, but I could be getting this game mixed up with the next one (when I also played with Gerry).

It struck me in this game that our offense and defense seemed to be somewhat reversed—and not just because one of the guys who usually plays forward was playing D. (Though he did tend to play it the way I did in Vancouver: namely, by poke-checking at the blueline and often getting beat.) There was one play where either (a) I had forgotten that this usually-forward was playing D, (b) I wasn't paying quite enough attention to the whole play, or (c) both. As I entered the defensive zone I looked down by the net and saw two blue jerseys scuffling with two Stampede players, figured the D had the situation well in hand, and turned toward the high slot to cover the third man in. It turned out that (a) the second blue jersey wasn't a defenseman, it was our goalie (who'd stood up at the side of the net), (b) the "third guy in" wasn't a Stampede player, but the usually-forward playing D, (c) we got scored on about a second later, and (d) I got screamed at by that usually-forward for not getting back.

Other than that, everything was great!

Posted by Lori at 06:56 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Sharks On The Power Play

The title of this post is what the announcer at NHL games in San Jose would say (with a growl in his voice) when the visiting team was called for a penalty. It's what keeps running through my head as I think about our game against the Sharks on the 26th (mainly because of their name, rather than the number of penalties that were called on us... though if I remember correctly, there were a few).

I was supposed to be the floater in this game, but Derek volunteered to float instead. That left me, Doug, and Gerry for the second line. Since Doug likes Left Wing and Gerry likes Right, I said to Doug while Gerry was out on the ice warming up, "I guess I'll play Center." I don't win many faceoffs at Center, but I'm fairly decent at standing the other guy up (leaving the puck for one of the Wings), and I'm actually very good at skating end to end—going in strong on O and getting back on D—as Centers should. When Gerry came to the bench, I leaned over to tell him my faceoff strategy so he'd know that the puck would often just be sitting there, but before I could open my mouth, Gerry said, "I'll Center this line," and Doug replied, "I should hope so!" With that settled, I moved to Right Wing.

The Sharks are in the upper division, and playing them reminded me of playing the Toasters in the Monday night league at Ice Oasis (well, if the Toasters had ever had a full bench). They were fast and good and really knew how to use their points—which meant that I actually had something useful to do as a winger when we were on defense. I think on the Galaxy there's a bias towards having the wings drop down low to help out the D, but since the teams I played on in Calfornia preferred a zone defense (and an unclogged slot), I'm more used to staying between the blue line and the hash marks when we're in the defensive zone. If the D I'm covering dashes in, I follow him only up to a point—the point at which our D picks him up—and then I get back up high to cover the forward who's taken his place. The score might not have reflected it, but I felt like I disrupted a lot of plays and challenged the Sharks a bit when they were on O, especially in the second and third periods. (Except for a goal that was scored in the first 30 seconds, the second period was scoreless.) The Sharks seemed to expect that someone would cover them on the points and didn't make me feel like I was irrelevant, which was another confirmation that I was doing the right thing (and doing it at least middling-well).

I had lamented the sorry state of the ice (apparently caused by the high temperatures outside) in the middle of the first period, mainly because I couldn't seem to get any momentum going in the slush, but Derek said he thought it would hurt the Sharks more than us. By the middle of the second period I knew he was right—the slow, slushy, deeply-rutted ice frustrated them to a greater degree than it did us. As Derek described it, it was like the Celtics installing new nets to throw off the timing of teams known for their fast breaks (because the ball would drop through the new net more slowly). The slower ice definitely seemed to be interfering with the Sharks' timing; forechecking really started working in the second period, and we were able to break up several passes. Eric (who was playing Left Wing on the first line and whom I ended up on the ice with due to a weird line change) even got a scoring chance from a successful forecheck of ours.

No matter how right Derek was, by the third period I was back to lamenting the condition of the ice. In that period I found myself melting an indentation in it twice—once because I was tripped (but didn't get a call), and once because I was so aggressive on the forecheck that I collided with the guy whose pass I was trying to break up—and I couldn't get up because my socks stuck instead of sliding. Talk about throwing off your timing! I ended up causing a teammate to go offsides when it took me several seconds to get back on my skates.

Even the velcro ice and the 9-0 loss couldn't dampen my good mood at the end of the game, however. There's something about feeling like you're just a half-step behind a faster, more skilled team that's exhilarating rather than defeating—for me at least, and apparently for a few others who also said they had fun and thought we'd played well. It really did remind me of playing in the Monday night league at Ice Oasis, where I certainly was one of the less-skilled players, but where I felt like just playing against better players raised the level of my game, too.

Posted by Lori at 10:07 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Checking Line

We played another upper-division team this week: The Firebirds. We were a bit short, with Mattias, Gerry, Mike, and a few others out; Fred was the only regular Defenseman in the locker room, so Bill and Eric dropped back, and the remaining six of us played O. I'd been thinking for a while that I wanted to try being on a line with Matt Z at Right Wing and me at Left, and I almost got my wish this week... except that I played Right Wing and Matt Z played Center. I don't think the fact that it didn't work out so well—we got in each other's way a lot, unfortunately—is necessarily a reflection on how we might work as a Wing pair; I still think I'd like to try that. I think we really might be able to get something going by playing dump and chase, and we might even be able to hit each other with passes.

Speaking of hitting each other with passes, Adam and Derek turned out to be really good at that, though I suppose it's not too surprising given that they've been playing street hockey together for like 15 years. This was our first chance to see them in action, though, since I think it was their first time playing on a line together. Adam and Derek (together with Murph at Center) were definitely the scoring line in this game; Doug, Matt Z, and I made up the checking line.

Much as I'd love to score a goal, I have to say that I get a total thrill out of being an effective checker. I felt like my job was to tire and frustrate the Firebirds, and, if possible, prevent them from scoring. (Oh, and to give Adam a rest so that he could score next time he came on the ice—he had both of our two goals :). I knew I was doing my job effectively when the Firebirds started hitting and hooking me; it meant that I was at least an annoyance if not a threat. (That's totally better than being insignificant!) I have a lovely (and painful) bruise on my upper arm where one of the Firebirds hit me with his stick, lacrosse-style, though I honestly can't remember whether he was trying to push me out of the slot in the offensive zone, or to get me off him in the defensive end. Either is equally likely.

five days after the check

Speaking of defensive forwards, Eric was excellent on D. He took his job very seriously and ALWAYS got back, even if he'd just been inside the blueline in the offensive zone. I was kind of amazed at his energy level, given that there were only three D; I don't think I ever saw him coast. I think it helped that Eric takes his defensive responsibilities as seriously as his offensive ones when he plays Center; when Centers do that, it's not such a shock to move back to D. (Eric would probably not be too thrilled to know that I'm extolling his virtues as a defenseman given that he prefers to play up, but I wanted to give him props for a great game. And I hope to see him back at Center next time!)

Posted by Lori at 12:06 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

On Saving the Day (or not) and Sitting It Out

We had a full bench for the first time in a while for our game against the Stampede on Wednesday night: 15 skaters, which meant three full lines. For the forwards, line 1 was (from left to right) Derek, Murph, and Adam; line 2 was me, Matt Y, and Lee; and line 3 was Doug, Gerry, and Matt Z. Yep, that's right, I was on line 2. It occurred to me when I heard my name read off that our captain might be thinking that Lee's and Matt's superior skills made up for what I lacked, but I chose to be positive (or perhaps delusional) and consider it a compliment.

It was an interesting change to move to a line with extra-strong skaters/players—both Matt and Lee play up a division in the fall league—because it meant a return to my old job of net-crasher (though I did have one or two opportunities to fight for the puck along the boards). It also meant that I went from being able to keep up with my line easily to bringing up the rear on most plays, though I actually think this had as much to do with the net-crashing as with actual speed. If you're down low, you have farther to go when the play turns around. In any case, I thought I did pretty well in covering my checks, getting open for passes, etc., and I even had a shot on goal (plus the rebound when the small hole I was aiming for closed at the last second).

I thought I did a good job of getting open in front of the net, covering the points, and forechecking; I probably could have been a bit better at taking passes (although I caught a few right on the tape, I stupidly tried to take one on my backhand up the boards from behind—no mean feat, I assure you, which is why I was stupid to attempt it—and there was another I just missed entirely and ended up falling on when I lost the puck in my skates). I wish I could have gotten control of the puck I'd knocked a defenseman off of not once but *five times* while forechecking him hard, because Lee was waiting for me to pass to him in front of the net. (Lee remembered from the first game we played together that I said I was good at digging the puck out of corners and flinging it to the middle. I am, if I can just get in front of the defenseman. :)

I still think Lee's probably too good for me as a linemate, but we still managed to work fairly well together; he was the one who passed to me the time I almost scored, and he tried to get the puck to me a few other times as well. (This was not the case, btw, when I ended up on the ice at the same time as a different Center—one who ignored the fact that I was wide open in the slot and BANGING MY STICK for a pass and instead attempted to score himself from slightly behind the net. Lee definitely would have passed; Eric would have, too.) Matt turned out to be pretty fun to play with as well; I think if we were linemates on a regular basis, we could probably work out some cool plays. (A murmured tip-off from Matt that was going to try to win a faceoff in the offensive zone forward reminded me of a similar situation I was in with Fuz once; I mentioned to Matt later on the bench what my strategy would be in that case.)

Overall, I probably was more of an extra appendage than a necessity on line 2, but I worked hard, and my linemates seemed to appreciate what I was doing. At the very least, they didn't seem to think of me as a liability. Our captain apparently did, however, because with one minute to go and the score tied 4-4, he announced that he was moving up from D to take my place on line 2. I was a little annoyed but tried not to look at it as a personal slight; it made sense that the captain would want to play on a strong line, and I was certainly the weakest player on a strong line. On the other hand, our line had never been scored on with me on it.

When the remaining minute of regulation play—during which line 2 was on the ice—did not result in a goal for either team, we went into a five-minute overtime. Our captain sent the first line out again (skipping the third line entirely) and announced that the second line would go out as usual, followed by the third line. I said, "the *real* second line?", though I knew the answer to the question already. "Sorry, the MODIFIED second line will go out next," he replied. This was when I started to get a little angry. I didn't want to stand in the way of my team winning if they could, but even with the captain moving up there was no guarantee we would score—and with me on line 2, there was a good chance the other team wouldn't.

I won't even bother with the argument that I paid as much as everyone else on the bench—and that I paid that amount to play, not to sit—because it should be obvious. Instead, I'll just repeat what one of my linemates said to me after the final buzzer rang: "That was so stupid. You do all the work, and then you have to sit? That's not right." Yep, and it didn't change the score, either: We skated away with a 4-4 tie.

Posted by Lori at 06:21 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

The Little I Remember

As my teammates have pointed out to me repeatedly, I'm way behind in writing about Galaxy games. Herewith, the little I remember about each game:

August 17 vs. Stampede
Lee, Matt, and I remained linemates, and we played really well together, in my opinion (except for the time I slammed into Matt and knocked him down in the neutral zone—oops!). I remember skating really hard, cycling a lot (it only seemed to matter which position each of us was playing for the faceoffs; after that, whoever got to the puck first skated where there was room, and the other two went to whatever part of the ice was open), and being tired but exhilarated after every shift. The only bummer was that we got scored on (once). Hoche used to say that the +/- was really a stat for the D, but I found out after the game that knowing we were scored on bugged Lee as much as it bugged me. This makes sense, because Lee takes his defensive responsibilities as seriously as Eric does (and I do).

Meanwhile, our captain (who plays D) set a new record for getting behind the net in the offensive zone: he was fighting for the puck back there 16 seconds into the first period. I can't remember whether it was Lee or Matt who remarked after the game that it was the fact that we brought the fight to our opponents early and often that made the difference (I think we won 5-2), nor whether it was this game or the next one in which our captain scored our only goals, but I do remember wondering why the captain doesn't just play forward.

I have nothing against the D trying to score; in fact, the D on Gang Green were "very aggro," as Hoche once said, and they scored often. They'd let loose from the point off a pass from one of the forwards, or they'd carry the puck in past one of the forwards (who would drop back to cover), take the shot, and get back to the point. It's the difference in method that made it work: in short, they were D first, and scoring machines second. I'm aware that some would say, "what does it matter who scores as long as you win?", and that's a valid point. I think the reason it bothers me when the D goes in deep and stays there is that it means you can never really trust that they'll get back—and for me personally, that often translates into worrying perhaps too much about staying back to cover and not enough about going in on O.

August 22 vs. Admirals
Lee was out for this one, but Matt and I stayed on the second line together as a wing pair, while Eric and Murph alternated at Center. I have the sense that this was the game in which our captain scored our only two goals, but I could be wrong about that. If he did, then it was either the previous game or the next one in which Derek flipped a pass from our defensive zone over the heads of two defensemen and onto the stick of Adam, who was cherrypicking up near the offensive blueline, and who went on to score. I can't remember what scores happened when, obviously, but I wanted to acknowledge both accomplishments, whenever they happened.

What I do recall about this game was falling in the corner near the Zamboni door while trying to dig the puck out (if I remember correctly, I *did* get the puck to a teammate before going down), and then either on the same shift or the next one, going down in exactly the same spot—only this time as a result of taking what was meant to be a hard clear up the boards to my left instep. The puck's velocity literally knocked my foot out from under me, and it hurt like hell to boot. I think everyone thought I was just uncoordinated and had fallen again, but I was busy wondering whether I'd broken any bones. (I don't think I did; it hurt to walk around barefoot for a couple days, but after that it was fine.)

September 1 vs. Roadrunners
This was our lone 7:15 game of the summer season, and Al and I decided that it wouldn't be too much of a hardship for Austen to stay up until 9:30 or so to see it. I didn't bring the camera because I figured Al would be too busy watching Austen to take pictures, but I kicked myself for not bringing it 'just in case' when I saw Austen in an old, infant-sized fleece hat with flaps (which didn't really fit him anymore) and the new L.L. Bean sweater Valerie got him. He looked absolutely adorable, and seeing him and Al watching the game from the stands and from behind the glass made any on-ice (or locker room) angst melt away.

Adam, Derek, and Alan were MIA when the lines were read out in the locker room before the game, and my usual linemate Matt was out, which left us with (I think) 3 D and 7 forwards. I don't remember who the two forward lines were, but I know I was asked to float. I shrugged and went over to get my stick from the rack when I heard Fred say, "why not go with three Centers and two sets of wings?" I looked up in time to see our captain stare at Fred as if Fred were crazy, shake his head, and say, with what sounded like incredulity in his voice, "No." I smiled and muttered, "because why would you do that?" to Eric, who responded by poking me in the shoulder and telling me to get out in the hall before I caused trouble. :)

During the warmup Fred approached me and said he had good news and bad news: The good news was I didn't have to float. The bad news was that I'd be the third Right Wing. It honestly didn't matter much to me; I'd never assumed that I'd have been the third Center had we gone that route anyway. Again I shrugged. It seemed silly to tire two Centers and rest a Wing, but I had no other objections. In any case, Adam, Derek, and Alan arrived a few minutes later, and the refs extended the warmup to give them time to get dressed, so we ended up having three complete forward lines after all. I ended up on the third line with Fred at Center and Doug at Left Wing.

I think being on the third line again discombobulated me a bit, especially after four weeks in a row of following Adam (who plays on the first line) onto the ice. With 28 seconds to go in the first period, the first line suddenly came off...just as the play turned around. I said, "oh my god, are they coming off?" and jumped on as soon as Adam got near the bench. I hit the neutral zone just in time to intercept, with authority, a pass from one of the Roadrunners, though I immediately had my stick lifted by the guy the pass was intended for as well as one of his linemates. (I have enough trouble fighting off one stick check; two is quite beyond my abilities. I also think the quickness that Al says I lack would have helped in this situation, as it would have allowed me to turn the play around rather than leaving me standing there with the puck long enough to get stick-checked in the first place.) Anyway, despite doing my best to foul up the barely-interrupted offensive charge and to stick with the madly cycling Roadrunners, they scored on us before the buzzer rang. It was only as I was skating dejectedly back to the faceoff circle that I realized I was out with the wrong line, and that Fred and Matt Z were calling my name from the bench. Good thing Matt Z had counted heads when he jumped on, realized I was the player who shouldn't be there—and that I had touched the puck—and quickly got back off. I apologized profusely and promised I would pay more attention to who I was following (namely, Matt Z).

I had a couple more opportunities to touch the puck in this game—and to actually skate with it. In one case I picked the puck up off the boards in our defensive zone and tried to skate up ice with it, but I lost it near our bench when I looked up for a passing target, the puck hit a divot and popped over my stick, and I overskated it. The second time reminded me of the Spitfire practice where we'd learned how to break out. At the practice, the coach had made us try over and over again to pass up the boards to a winger at the hashmarks, pass again to the center who would be coming up hard through the slot, and then come out of the zone together as a line, crossing the blueline at roughly the same time. We never seemed to get it right: Either I'd be way ahead of the rest of the line, or one of us would fumble the pass up the boards and the Center would have to circle around again, or the pass would hit the Center's skates instead of her stick. After about five or six tries, we finally executed both passes *and* crossed the blueline roughly together.

We only got three tries to get it right in this case, but that still seems a shockingly large number in a single shift—especially given that we did it the same way each time, as if it were a drill. All three times the puck came around to Doug on the boards, and I broke through the high slot and looked for a pass. (I'm not sure why it was me who did this; as the RW, I probably should have been trailing Fred as *he* looked for the pass, but I guess I was taking a page out of Lee's book.) The first time Doug passed behind me, and I had to loop back around and fight, with Fred and the D, to keep the puck out of our opponents' possession. The second time Doug hit my skates, and a similar fracas ensued. The third time, Doug apparently figured out that I'm a little faster than I look (Al says I look incredibly slow because I take a few long strides rather than several short ones) and passed in front of me. He didn't hit my stick, but for once I was able to skate up to the puck instead of back to it. I remember getting into the offensive zone, at which point I think I tried to pass to Fred, but I forget what happened after that.

After the game, Al brought Austen out on the ice for a few seconds, where he tried to walk around before we were chased off by the Zamboni. Did I mention how damn cute he looked in that hat and sweater? :)

I think it was a few days before this game that we'd been told there would be an extra playoff game added to the season. Instead of the first and second place teams in our division playing for the championship on the 9th, the second (us) and third place teams would play each other, with the winner of that game playing the first place team on the 16th for the trophies. I was trying to decide whether to stay in town for the first round of the playoffs or to make a family vacation out of a business trip to Boston, and up until this game staying in town to play hockey had the edge. After enduring a monologue on limited roster spots, the seriousness of the fall season, and the possibility of tryouts to determine who would make the team in response to our announcement that Al and I planned to split the fall/winter season, however, I decided it was a no-brainer: we'd be Boston-bound on the 7th (and probably looking for a new team for the fall).

Posted by Lori at 11:23 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry

Championship Game

Friday night was the championship game in the Liberty Bell Division (which included the Galaxy, the Stampede, and the Admirals). The Galaxy beat the Admirals in the semi-final on the 9th (which I missed), so we played the Stampede for all the marbles.

I played on the second line with Lee and Matt again; the first line was Derek, Murph, and Adam as usual, and the third line was Doug, Fred, and Matt Z. (Fred and Gerry seemed to have made their O/D switch permanent, and Eric was out.) On my first or second shift out we had several scoring chances, including one where the puck popped out to where I was camped out, on the back door of the crease. I spazzed a little and missed it; I think I was worried that if I took the time to get the puck on my stick securely before trying to push it into the net, the door would close, so instead I tried to one-time it and just plain missed. I chased the puck down at the boards and flung it back into the fray in front of the net, where Matt picked it up and took another shot. I'm still not sure how we didn't manage to score on that shift.

I remember thinking in the first period that our opponents seemed very slow, almost like they were standing still. They certainly weren't moving up and down the ice at top speed, in any case. It was surprising, then, that they went up 2-0 relatively quickly. Maybe we were trying too hard to score? Matt, Lee, and I weren't the only ones keeping the puck in the offensive zone and firing on the net whenever possible; it seemed like on every shift, all five Galaxy players were actively involved in the play, if not taking shots. I know a couple shots from Adam hit the post, a couple slapshots from our D went wide, and even though we knew their goalie went down at the drop of a hat, we seemed to keep hitting him. I'm pretty sure it was Adam who scored our first goal, and based on which end of the ice it happened at, it must have been the end of the first period (or the beginning of the third).

During the second period I had another scoring opportunity when I set up in the high slot and was completely open for the pass Matt gave me from the corner, but even before the pass came I was worrying about how the heck I was going to one-time it backhanded...and I didn't have time to formulate a plan before the pass did come. It was beautiful: right at my stick, perfect speed, no one near me to poke it or my stick away. I realize now what I should have done was turn my body around a bit so I could take the pass on my forehand and then shoot, but of course that's not what I did. Instead I tried what I knew to be the low-probability backhand one-timer, and missed. <sigh> Matt said to me on the bench afterward, "I totally set you up!" Me: "I know! It was to my backhand, though, and I didn't have enough sense to turn my body." Matt said he understood—he also realized that my backhanded one-timer had very little chance of success. (We later saw one of my teammates do the same thing with a pass to his backhand, and with the same results. I guess it takes some practice to be able to run through the various options and probabilities—and then to execute the one most likely to succeed—at game speed.)

In that same period I also had a chance to skate with the puck (not my only chance, but one I remember because I got farther with it than usual). I collected it off the boards very much like the time in our game against the Roadrunners, but this time I didn't lose it two strides later. Instead I skated it into the offensive zone while looking around to see if I had company. I did, in the form of four Stampede players, who all seemed to be standing still in front or just to the left of me. Ordinarily I would have lost confidence—and the puck—right there, but I heard someone (Matt, I think) yell, "keep going!", so I did. I got through three Stampede players before the fourth one stepped in and knocked me off the puck. OK, perhaps he did it a bit too easily, but still! As Matt said later, "it was a 4 on 1!"—or rather, a 1 on 4—so I think I'm probably justified in feeling proud of myself. ;) Next goal: To skate through that forest of players with AUTHORITY!, like Lee does. He manages to fit through spaces that look too tight for a toothpick, mainly because he blows through them at speed. Speed: Gotta remember that.

Anyway, if I recall correctly, neither team scored in the second period, but Gavin dropped down low and scored from just outside the crease not long into the third period. Derek, who'd been working down low all night after passing to Adam and then following him in, finally put us up 3-2 with only a few minutes left in the game. It was now up to everyone to play defensively, which is something I actually feel very confident doing (as a forward; as a D, I'm less secure). Penalties don't scare me, and I take great pride in killing them off—Lee and I had already killed one earlier in the game—and protecting a lead late in the game is just like killing a penalty. You forecheck as hard as you can while not getting beat, look for opportunities to get possession of the puck, and get in the way of the puck and the passers as much as possible at all other times. No problem.

I'd gone out with my line as usual with about two minutes left in the game and was forechecking and fouling up the passing lanes with gusto when I heard someone SCREAMING my name from the bench, like I'd done something wrong. We were in the defensive zone at the time—I might have even been on the puck carrier—and I remember my first thought was, "how could I be on the ice at the wrong time? I know I came out with Lee and Matt." My next thought, as I looked up and saw our captain continuing to scream my name and waving me violently off the ice, was "have we been out here that long? Is my line changing already?" I did the only thing that made sense in the face of all that screaming and waving: I skated to the bench as quickly as possible... and as I got there, I heard someone say, "not while we're on D!" while our captain yelled, "they put an extra man on the ice!" by way of explanation. At that point I lost it, and started screaming myself. "Are you fucking KIDDING ME???" I was so angry I'm amazed I didn't burst into tears or impale the captain with my stick. Meanwhile, everyone else was muttering, "why did you come off? Why didn't you just ignore him?", which only made me madder.

I managed to grit my teeth and keep from both crying in frustration and shoving my stick where it might get messy and said to Adam, "geez, an empty net's when I'm at my best! It's only when the goalie's in there that I spaz and miss the puck." :) Instead I watched from the bench as Murph put the puck in the empty net for our fourth goal of the evening.

Matt (or maybe Lee?) said to me after the final buzzer that he'd been excited when they pulled the goalie, because he figured they'd finally get me a goal... and that I should have ignored the screaming from the bench. I guess with more time on this team I might learn to ignore any efforts to get me off the ice whenever the game was on the line, but my default setting is to be a team player and, for better or worse, to assume that someone screaming from the bench has a better view of the situation than I do. At least, I don't doubt that it's easier to see the whole ice—to see potential threats and opportunities, open passing targets and unguarded opponents—from the bench. I know I have an easier time seeing plays develop (or fall apart) from over there. I'd like to also assume that anyone yelling something negative from the bench would never do so lightly, that they'd weigh any potential benefit to the team against the certain confusion and possible damage to an individual player's confidence and enjoyment of the game. I'm not sure in this case that those assumptions were correct.

In any case, our team won the game, and thus the championship. [Click the image below to go to the larger version on the HNA Philly website, if you want a better view of the faces.] I stood in the back row for the team photo because I think of myself as being tall—and downright huge with all my hockey gear on. As you can see, however, I'm smaller than most of the guys in the back row by quite a bit (although the contrast might seem even bigger because I'm standing next to Matt, who was easily the tallest guy on our squad this summer. If I were standing between Mattias and Doug, I probably wouldn't look so puny. :)

back row, L-R: Matt Z, Adam, Murph, Mike, me, Matt, Fred, Mattias, Doug
front row, l-r: Alan, Gerry, Derek, Brent, Lee, Gavin, Bill

Posted by Lori at 09:29 PM | TrackBack | Link to This Entry