I started playing ice hockey last week.
I grew up in Michigan. It’s cold there. They have ice and snow. With ice and snow comes a natural drawing towards wintery sports such as hockey.
You know what else is in Michigan? The Detroit Red Wings. What many consider to be the greatest team in the National Hockey League.
So, naturally I should be a decent hockey player because of my roots. At minimum, I would know how to ice skate.
I’m not and I didn’t.
The team I joined went 4-11 last season in the rookie (beginners) league, so they’re pretty much not the greatest team to grace the rink. I joined the team last week and immediately filled the role of being the worst player on the worst team. It was a strange feeling for me as my teammates kept saying, “Don’t worry, this happens to all of us”, or “You’re only going to get better!” These are statements I say to people in sports. They’re not supposed to say them to me!!! I’ve now become “That Guy”.
Yet, I’m having the time of my life. I’ve always loved watching hockey; I’ve just never played it. The main reason is that I was always too wrapped up in my basketball teams to be able to participate in hockey, who shared the same season as basketball.
Last Saturday was my first game. My friend, Jay, and I decided to play as a means of having some fun as well as getting to rub shoulders with guys we otherwise wouldn’t have a chance to hang with. Our buddies from church, Mikey and Jessie, had invited us graciously to join their team.
I was on the first line, meaning every time I saw a certain center enter the game I was to jump on the ice with him and assume my position. My position was left wing. This is an offensive position that requires speed and touch with the puck. I lack both. However, left wing seemed appropriate because the only side I can do a plow stop on is my left. If I were on the right wing and needed to stop you would see me plow with my left and do a complete 360 before facing the appropriate direction. I would look more like Michelle Kwan than Wayne Gretzky, and we just can’t have that.
In the approximately 20 minutes I played on the ice, the puck came to me probably about ten times. Three of those times my stick actually touched the puck. The other seven went right by my stick and down the ice.
I fell twice in full padding, yet my butt still hurt.
Once, the entire game came to a halt as the referee had to literally point me in the right direction as to where I was supposed to stand on a faceoff. Oops.
We lost 6-2 and I was ecstatic because of how much fun I had.
My team, “The Panzees” (short for chimpanzees), is full of a bunch of great guys and one lady. They love hockey and enjoy hanging out together. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of them better as we pursue our dream of becoming a winning team.
I’ll keep you updated.
That is a great name!