I'm stalling doing my workout today (squats, lunges, abs, oh my!) and poking around at the Wild Road Tour offerings.
Here's the blog for Cal's leg of the tour, mostly by my hero Kevin Falness but Cal writes about one of the days. The story of trying to turn on the shower is pretty good (and yes, Cal, pictures would have been most welcome, at least by a certain contingent).
And here are some photos from Day 1 and Day 2 of their leg of the tour.
Here's John Scott's blogging from his leg of the tour with Boogie. Jesus, what a sight those two are together.
And for consistency's sake, here's the leg Hards and Shep were on, though neither player blogged about it, which is weak sauce. At least give the old cougar some pics of Shep to look at.
Hmph. Leg 3 FAIL. (Would a Viagra joke here be too much?)
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I'm stalling doing my workout today (squats, lunges, abs, oh my!) and poking around at the Wild Road Tour offerings.
Monday, June 29, 2009
So, I knew when I was getting out of my car and my teammate, who was also getting out of his car, asked me how I was doing and I heard myself say, "GREAT!" and mean it... that I was gonna play like shit.
It wasn't an entirely conscious realization, but I look back and know that somewhere in my mind, that thought fluttered through: You're SO in the wrong frame of mind.
On the spectrum of moods or states of mind, which runs pretty wide for me, the band in which I play goal best is VERY narrow. It's intense and calm and angry, which is kind of a tough place to get to... or to even WANT to be for a laid back gal like me. It's definitely not the great mood, head in the clouds state of mind that I was in tonight.
But the great mood soured rapidly as I let in a shit ton of soft goals in the first period. But the distracted mind, as much as I talked to myself and tried to drag myself into the game, wouldn't shake off. I just couldn't get there. I look back and feel like I sleep-walked through the whole game. Like, did that even just happen? Sadly, yes.
All told, I let in 9, but that was only with a really great second period. I'm not even going to bother going over the goals. I honestly can't say I even stopped as many as I let in. Now that's brutal. All of them were just fucking stupid goals, and that's with the other team's best player, who must have gotten 5 breakaways, putting pity shots on me. Even one of those got through. Fuck.
And of course Scott TFCG was in goal at the other end playing like... a real goalie. I'm playing like someone they strapped the pads on at the last minute and said, "Eh, it's not that hard. Go get 'em, kiddo!"
Since I got to the rink way early, I stopped and bought a 12 pack of Dos Equis. Little did I know when I did that that it would be Apology Beer, but it sure was. And for the first time, I was so pissed about a game, I was just like, "Fuck it" and drank until everything was so funny, my knees buckled when I laughed.
Lemme just say: God Bless Beer League. I dunno how these little kids go through years of hockey without the sweet nectar of brew waiting for them at the end. The joys of being an adult.
Anyway, 4 beers in, I was drunk. Too drunk to drive anyway, so I went to the bar to sober up (seriously, just had a nibble of food and water). And demanded to hear dick jokes, because... well... dick jokes are funny. So, thanks to Amanda, Dave, and Mitch for making me forget the steaming pile of shit I left in my net tonight, at least for a little while. God Bless Beer League.
Didn't roll into the house until 3 a.m. Tried to go to bed, but knew I had to vent here a bit before the brain was going to comply with my orders to shut the fuck up and sleep. 4 a.m. now. Tomorrow is gonna suuuuck.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The 4:45 a.m. stick and puck was lightly attended this morning. Scott TFCG's crew slept in, so it was just me, my 7-year-old nemesis, her little sister, their dad, and some other little kid who must be on that team of little kids.
My knee still feels like it's got a screwdriver jammed under the kneecap when I get up off the ice, so I only spent about half my time working with that crew (and took it pretty easy with them) and spent a good bit of time on my own at the other end working on moving the puck.
I must be missing something with this because I just can't seem to find a hand/glove position that gives me decent leverage. But this is also something that I almost never get to work on because someone's always wanting to shoot pucks at me, which I like, so I'd usually rather do that, too. But it's a skill that gets ignored, so I'm glad I took some time out with it, even though I don't know that I accomplished much.
Oh, but you know what feels awesome? Taking the mask off for a 15-20 minutes and the sweatband gets really cold... Ohhh, man that felt so good to put back on.
Nemesis hurt her foot or something and left the ice crying at the end. I think it was really because I started shutting her down in the end. :) At least I didn't call her any bad names this time.
Can you believe I've been doing this for 6 months and today is the first time I took a hard shot off the shoulder? That SOB hurt. Not as bad as shots to my upper arms, but it hit my shoulder and then tagged my head, too. Bitch. Don't do that. But I stopped it. :)
That shot was from the coach/dad. I dunno what it is. I can stop him but these little kids... I think because they're down more at puck level, they see the holes better and they move slower so I kinda get bored waiting on them and also don't really take them as seriously, so boom. Goals galore.
Anyway, everybody gets to eat because everybody scored, so I've done my weekly duty to encourage and feed Houston's hockey youth. I should get a key to the city or something, eh?
Tomorrow night at novice league, it's coach vs. coachee again as Scotty comes out to backstop the red team. I'll be jacked about that, no doubt, though right now, the thought of getting up for it is making me want a nap. Perhaps because I just need a nap.
Didn't get but 3 or so hours of sleep, and that was on the couch since poor Mr. C has the flu and I didn't want to bother him this morning with my alarm going off. And I had to use my cell phone alarm, and I don't really trust my cell to do anything right, much less wake me up, so I kept waking up to check the time. It's fun being neurotic. Really.
Okay, 2 hours to the resumption of the draft. Get me a goalie, Fletch. I'm so nervous about the goaltending depth for the Wild. We're a broken foot and a groin strain from having to put ME in... and I get beat by 7-year-olds.
Monday, June 22, 2009
So, we won. Poor Bang got the shit kicked out of him in the first two periods and I think the score was something like 5-0 in the first, 8-2 in the second, and then in the third, my defense let up out of pity and the floodgates opened on me and I let in 5. Ugh.
But I played well and made some darn good saves, even when things got hairy. I felt good and focused the whole game, except for a few missteps.
My first stop was actually one that Bad Heather wouldn't have gotten in the past, but I was screened by my own guy and I saw Jessica had the puck (yeah, Jessica's back... more on that in a bit) so I dropped. It took a bit for the shot come to me, but if I hadn't gone down, it would have been a goal. As it was, it bounced off my toe, hit the post and then went to the corner. Phew!
But I made up for it with two stupid goals in the second. First, I dropped but my stick was off the ice and the puck went 5-hole on me. Soft as a basket of kittens.
The second, Mikey parked his ass at the top of my crease and that pissed me RIGHT off. And I'm thinking, "I can't nut him." So I start shoving him. And I was watching the puck, but I guess I did get a tad overzealous in my mission to make it as uncomfortable as possible to screen me, and my stick was off the ice when Jessica released her shot.
I was PISSED. I mean... woo! CRAZY BITCH PISSED. But I learned my lesson. Stick with nutting. It's more efficient.
Okay, kidding. But Mikey got on me. "It's okay for someone to screen you if they're outside the paint." Well, yeah, you're ALLOWED to do it, but if I can make you not want to be there, by fuck, I'm gonna try! But I won't do it at the cost of a goal again. Gotta find a balance. I don't care what these guys say, I'm not gonna let them just stand there. If you don't like a blocker in the back, you can fucking well get the fuck out of my way.
Plus, for where she was (mid-high slot), *I* needed to be at the top of my crease and I couldn't be there because he'd grown roots in the ice or something. I couldn't budge him.
Anyway, I was straight up homicidal for a bit after that, and it's good that Mikey got the hell away from me, but I shook it off and it was okay.
But then the third... My defense backed off because the score was so unbalanced, and the red team definitely took advantage and put a lot of pucks on the net.
I'm trying hard to even remember them all. I know a couple of the later ones, I was getting a bit mental and playing too deep. Tethered to the crossbar again as a result of getting shelled.
One of them was a nasty tip-in by my own defenseman. I was down for the original shot, which was clearly going wide, but it hit the tip of Tom's stick and deflected right in the empty net. Ugh. But it happens.
Another, I got my blocker side leg pad on it and it took a funny bounce and went right over the pad. I really don't even know what I could have done better on that.
So that and Tom's tip-in, I'm not upset about. A couple, I was just too deep and not cutting off the angle properly and they hit the post and went in. Those, I'm irritated about. And the first two I'm irritated about big time. There's one that I can't seem to account for (they weren't actively keeping score and then at the end they put it at 10-10, but that definitely wasn't the right score for my team, so I'm kinda guessing anyway).
Afterward, I was getting pretty good props from the boys for some strong saves and a good game, so that was nice, but it was still too many goals. So somehow I'm really happy with my game but also ... I guess we'll call it, "seeing clear room for improvement."
I was lamenting the score and telling them that I have to recount each one for Scott and they were like, "Meh, screw it, you played well." Well, yeah, but I should have stopped 4 of those if I'd been on the ball. So, I don't really know how to feel about this one.
I do know it was a fuckload of fun though. I love playing goal.
So, like I mentioned, Jessica is back (and the score showed it). I know she got two of the goals. One of those too-deep ones and then the Mikey-screen.
But I love having her back. She's determined and more unpredictable than many of the red team, so I enjoy the challenge. And it's often a breakaway with her, which I really enjoy in sort of mano-a-mano, who's gonna flinch first, way.
Speaking of flinching, Jesus H. Christ, another of her shots hit me in the bicep (but bounced down to me to freeze it). I swear to God, I'm gonna get swim floaties to wear under my chest protector to protect my biceps. I might as well have nothing on my arms at all for how bad that hurts. It's big time OW! But, of course, totally worth it if I make the save.
Anyway, loads of fun. And now the sleepies are setting in. I don't think anything will haunt me too bad tonight when I close my eyes. I made a few dumb mistakes but nothing I can't fix. It's the stuff I don't know how to fix that keeps me up at night.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Got this article from Google Alerts today on what Clutterbutter's been up to in Welland. The line that made me laugh was, "And according to the NHL, Clutterbuck led the league in hits, too."
Like that information would ever be according to anybody else. Or like it's an opinion or something. I dunno. That kinda made me chuckle. But maybe I'm just in a mood to pick on someone after getting my ass kicked by a 7-year-old girl this morning.
Went to a 4:45 a.m. stick and puck with Scott TFCG and a couple of his kids. The kids' coach and his daughter were there, too. Well, the daughter, Ava, is a freaking mercenary. She's a damn good little skater and would run circles around a bunch of people in novice league. Very agile. Also a quick shot, and she can put it pretty much anywhere.
What I'm saying, of course, is that the little [darling] lit me up and lit me up GOOD this morning. Of course, I was taking it easy and really trying to avoid going down too much to try and not anger my knee too badly. Just wanted to get on the ice, get a sweat up, test the knee out a bit, so it's alright. I wasn't going full bore and didn't want to. But she still woulda lit me up. No doubt about it.
Just doing my part to boost the confidence of Houston's hockey youth. And BTW, it's no secret that kids aren't really my bag, but I love Scotty's kids. They're cool. And they whine at him just like I do. Now I see how he puts up with me. I feel like I have siblings now. Maybe you can get a tax deduction for me, too, Scooter!
Owen thanked me for letting him score, so his dad will let him eat. LOL Awesome. I love it.
Anyway, in spite of the humbling, and the aching knee, and the ungodly hour, I had fun. And I figured out what's tweaking the shit out of my knee. It's when I get up, obviously I'm putting most of my weight on the vertical leg, but leveraging the "down" leg a bit to push up. And that's straining the medial ligaments in my knee.
So, it's good that I've figured out what's causing the problem. Part of the solution is to work on getting up with my non-dominant leg more often, so the effort is spread across both legs. And obviously get lighter and stronger. *sigh* What a process. Couldn't I have had a dream of being... I dunno, something lazier? But noooooo, gotta be a goalie. Pfft. Sorry, knees.
Got some yard-type crap to do this morning and then taking it easy the rest of the day. There will be a nap. Then taking Coach Stalin to her C league game tonight. Will be fun to just relax and watch some hockey. I don't get to do that too often anymore.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Puck Daddy featured this video in his headlines yesterday. Let's count the hot goalies:
Okay, I count... none.
Well, Luongo has those long legs, which is hot, but then he's got the mullet, which almost negates the legs.
Who's the Euro kid? Cute, but not hot.
Flower... I love him. LOVE HIM but he's not hot. Not even in his gear, which is where most goalies on the bubble can manage to fall over to the "hot" side.
Hiller? Duck. Next?
Cloutier, I kinda see it but I think we can do a LOT better.
So, I'm gonna give you my 5, in no particular order, because I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm not about to make a video though, so I'll just give you a song to play and some pictures and you can pretend.
Oh mama. Just one of the greatest goalies in the history of the sport, so proficient at moving the puck they had to put some extra lines on the ice to slow him down, looks great in red, and by all accounts one of the nicest dudes to play the position. Plus, the whole cheating on his wife with his sister-in-law thing... oh, that's naughty. Bad Marty. Bad.
My pal over at Getting Pucks Deep has me in a total froth about this hottie. In fact, she's got so many hot pictures of him, she sent me two and I couldn't choose. Here's the other (click to make big... and if you like that, check this out and guess which photo made me shout "OH MY GOD!"):
this is all I needed to see. Look at him attacking the puck... now that's hot. Typical Wild though, eh? Ugh.
Actually, his style of play doesn't thrill me all that much. But dayum. He's blistering hot. Commence collapse into puckbunnydom.
Brusty's big and foxy, he's got an unorthodox style and swagger and a temper, and when he's hot and healthy, I guarantee a sweaty-palmed, edge-of-your-seat good time watching him play.
Okay, that's my 5. There are some honorable mentions, like Ricky DiPietro, who is gorgeous but fragile as a little baby and a little too "frat boy" for my taste. Scott Clemmensen and Steve Valiquette are also lookers. And Marty Biron's got those eyes and adorable accent. And of course Rejean Beauchemin, who spent a couple of games in Houston and is a stone cold fox (look him up... you won't be disappointed). Rawr. But I had to pick 5.
Ladies... who ya got?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Thanks to the Aeros for the bobblehead collection this season.
Not sure how I like the three column format. Whaddaya think?
What's funny is when you first open it on an iPhone, the whole screen is Wiseman and his tongue. Priceless.
Thanks to Getting Pucks Deep for the inspiration.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Some good reasons why the Ducks are looking for a new AHL affiliate. The Ducks are still looking for a new affiliate, and it seems likely the team’s players will disperse through a couple AHL teams for the upcoming season.
Does that mean we could get Foxy Drew Miller in Houston? Uh,
I know, he'll probably be with the big club, but a girl can wish.
Well, it was a practice tonight, and I knew as soon as I hit the ice, my head, heart, and body just weren't in it like they needed to be.
My energy was lower than usual due to the hard workout yesterday with Coach Stalin (and if you haven't figured out, my energy baselines pretty low anyway because I'm a lazy schmuck), my head was not in the right place, I hadn't eaten right/enough during the day because I was more nervous than usual for some reason. My focus and mental sharpness just weren't there. I felt myself getting confused easily, losing sight of the puck, and having nothing extra to give. Just shit like that that makes for a frustrating outing.
Did 30 minutes of scrimmage after the practice and I let in two goals (but didn't see many shots at all). The first one, I was screened and down and the puck was ping-ponging around and I lost sight of it and it skipped past me glove side.
The second was a shot from the top of the slot and I was smack in the middle of the paint, way too deep for a shot like that. I went down but because I wasn't cutting off the angle enough, it went in just inside the post. If I'd been out at the top of my crease, that wouldn't have gone in.
I was playing too deep all night, which I think was indicative of my lack of mental "glue"... like Scott's talking at me and I know what I need to do, but nothing is sticking. I'm just falling back and falling back. Very frustrating.
Anyway, I'll do better next week. Gotta!
My XM radio was being cruel to me on the way home and not playing anything I wanted to crank up and jam to, as is my usual post-hockey habit. But then my Brusty song came on, so that made up for the overabundance of Kanye West and other crap. Enjoy:
Oh, and Kiss Me Through the Phone has been blown out of the water as the dumbest fucking song ever. The new king of the shitmountain: Birthday Sex.
I mean, seriously. Was that inspired by Dick in a Box? Go to GoalieMonkey.com and order me a new chest protector with decent bicep protection. That's what I want for my birthday. Then we can talk about shooting 5-hole.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Get used to this. I'm gonna be whining a lot about running because I hate it. And I know, a better person would try to put on a happy face and force themselves to at least SAY they like it even if they're lying to themselves.
Well, I spent a year training to walk half marathons and then a full marathon and I spent that year convincing myself that it was fun, when it plainly was not. The blisters, the swollen feet, the chronic tendinitis. Yeah. Great fun. Pfft.
So, I'm not lying to myself anymore. Running sucks and I hate it. But I'm doing it because I want to be a better goalie and being a good goalie is fun at its absolute zenith for me. So it's 3 hours of complete shitpuppetry in my week in exchange for up to a week of glowing self-worship for having played a great game Sunday night. A fair trade IMO.
Anyway, you know my idea yesterday about wanting to run behind shirtless Clayton Stoner? Well... I was with Coach Stalin yesterday, so I couldn't fully put the plan into operation, but I did do a few little Beefcake Fartleks and I'm here to tell ya, eye candy does make running slightly less sucky. Well, at least it makes me forget how sucky it is.
Only problem is that the hot ones are also pretty zippy. I, OTOH, am a turtle. So as quickly as they ease my pain, they are out of range again. *sigh*
This is all really neither here nor there. I'm just killing time before hockey and trying to figure out something bland to have for dinner. Baked potato from Wendy's is probably what it's going to end up being. My chicken pot pie from Boston Market let in a bad goal last week, so it's out of the rotation for a little while. Take that, chicken pot pie!!!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
So... here it is. The sweaty season. Well, the sweatiest of the three sweaty seasons in Houston. But that's okay because we have a truly beautiful season of hockey to look back on.
And a sure-to-be-laughably-lame awards show in a few days, followed by the
fresh meat parade draft a few days later. Then free agency and signings along the way and a new coach for the Wild and ... whatever that entails for Houston... and so forth.
Never a dull moment.
At least that's what I'm telling myself. Is it working on you as well as it's working on me?
So, anyway, my kindred spirit over at Getting Pucks Deep posted this of her lovely Flower, and I had to laugh at what he said his thought was in the amazing final seconds of last night's victory:
As any of my defensemen can attest, I say all of two things when it gets frantic in my paint (was gonna say "gets hairy in my crease" but... no):
and if I've lost sight of the puck:
WHERE IS IT?
Only once has someone had the wherewithal to give me an answer. I think it might have been Mitch, actually. All I know is whoever it was got a stick on it and took it out of the zone, god bless 'em.
I cannot fail to congratulate the Hershey Bears who won the Calder Cup last night. I feel badly for them that the games were scheduled the same night, because it does steal their thunder a bit, but it's no less of an amazing achievement and I couldn't be more delighted to see the Moose lose almost in exactly the fashion they beat the Aeros. Enjoy the golf, hosers.
Keep an eye on Neuvirth. And someone tell me how to pronounce his name.
Alright. Coach Stalin is dragging me out to run AND do abs. Why do I agree to these things? I better be a goddamn fucking good goalie one of these days as a result of this crap or I'm gonna be pissed.
It was 100 degrees on the bank sign we drove past at 2 this afternoon. It's gotta be at least 95 still. I'm full of seething hate at the thought of having to get out in it.
I'm jealous of the hockey boys who get to train in more forgiving climates in the summer. Must find a way to get a summer home someplace pleasant.
Okay okay. Going to get changed. *hmph*
Friday, June 12, 2009
I really don't have much of a personal investment in the game tonight, but I am enjoying watching my friends and acquaintances who have a rooting interest just giddy with excitement and nervousness. I remember that feeling. Nothing like a Game 7 for all the marbles.
I'm excited about the game but also a bit melancholy. Until now, I could tell myself "hockey season isn't REALLY over yet," but as of this time tomorrow... baby, it's ovah.
The good thing is that maybe things can get moving on the coaching front in Minnesota. Boy is that taking forever, but that's okay. Take your time and get it right, Fletch.
I was listening to XM Home Ice yesterday afternoon and they were raving about all the effort Joe Nieuwendyk put into selecting Crawford as the new coach in Dallas. My jaw was in my lap hearing that. The guy's been the GM for 23 minutes and he's already tossed a great, winning coach for an iffy losing coach? Yeah, that's super work.
The proof will be in the pudding, of course, and I am, frankly, almost always wrong when I look into my hockey crystal ball and try to predict the outcome of a move like this. Maybe Crawford's style of play will finally get those Dallas "fans" in the lower bowl to cheer for something other than goals.
Anyway, as I've been telling my token Pens fan friend, Kevin, his team has been growing on me. They have more personality than I realized. And it seems Detroit actually has LESS, which I didn't think was possible. They remind me of these hockey players in Strange Brew:
So, Coach Stalin is coming over and we're ordering up a batch of wings to have for dinner. That seems appropriate.
Saturday, Mr.C is heading for London for a couple of weeks, so if anybody wants to go to the Leaf and buy me some beer, my schedule is wide open darlings. :D
There's a Clutterbuck Facebook fan page that you should go join if you're a Facebooker.
Otherwise, it's been pretty quiet on the Clutter front. I know he did some charity hockey game up in Welland and he's slated to be on the Wild Road Trip or whatever they call it where they drag players around Minnesota when they should be home resting up (kidding, it's awesome. I'm just jealous.)
I sure miss the guy though. The smirk, the crashing. I was watching something the other day that showed him doing that little shoulder shimmy before one of his fights this season. That still makes me laugh out loud. Who has more fun? Nobody, I tell ya.
So, you know I'm on this workout regimin from Coach Stalin. Running and abs. Well, I hate running. Like, I HATE it. But I'm trying and I know it will get better. As with all things athletic for me, it's requiring a lot more patience and diligence than I naturally bring to the table.
I don't mind the abs so much because there's lots of lying around involved in that, which is my favorite kind of exercise. Plus, I got a new fitness ball, which is plenty big and isn't killing my back like my smaller one did.
I have a little mental trick I use to keep myself going when I "don't wanna," but it's kind of insulting to a player I love, so ask me about it offline and I might tell you. Heh.
What I really need when I run, though, is to have a fox like Clayton Stoner running in front of me. Shirtless. If you think I won't run hard enough and long enough to maintain visual contact with that, you just don't know me very well. I'll chase that until I face-plant in the gravel from exhaustion.
Hey, there's a summer moonlighting idea for you boys... I might actually pay money for a service like that. Sort of like the rabbit in a dog race...
No stick and puck for me this week. The new schedule at the Aerodrome kinda sucks and there's a camp going on at Space City. SLICE stick and pucks are too crowded and I loathe playing half-ice. So, alas, I have lots of pent up puck-stopping in me that will have to wait until Sunday.
Maybe I'll grab a public skate at Memorial City today since I haven't done any footwork drills in a long time. Yeah.
That's all. Go Pens. Have a great weekend!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Well, I really wanted the win tonight against Scott TFCG, as he was filling in for the regular guy, but it wasn't in the cards. He played a very good game and my guys on green just couldn't solve him apart from a couple of goals. Score was 4-2. Must have been nice for the red team to win though. That doesn't happen often. The green team is stacked AND they work harder.
I played alright. Didn't see a lot of shots but they had some good chances. The first goal was in close and I got a piece of it but it slipped either over or under my arm to go in. I think I kinda lost visual contact with the puck when I dropped to make the stop. Probably should have gotten a glove on it. Damn.
The next two were dekes by Mikey. Got me the exact same way twice in a row. Fuck. That's the shit that pisses me off... when I don't learn from my mistakes. Committed too early on a breakaway and left the net wide open behind me.
Blondie has a message for Mikey:
But Scott said his deke is a tough one, so I guess it will just take me a bit longer to find a way to stop him. I don't feel too bad about those. Almost got a stick across the bottom of the net on one of them, but didn't recognize how far away from the net I was in time to react.
The fourth goal was a just a piece of shit goal that kinda ruined an otherwise solid night of goaltending. Boo. Suck.
In the aggregate, nothing to really hang my head about tonight, so that's good. Had one really sick pad save that I just kicked my leg out and sent to the corner. I'd totally have babies with that save. It was beautiful and against a good shooter, so all the more enjoyable to stop him.
Anyway, most of all, it was good clean fun. I had a great time. Nice to have Amanda and Kyla (wife of Scott TFCG) out. Michelle got a pretty one-timer past Scotty and now he owes her lunch at Fogo de Chao, which is just fuckin' awesome. Watch him try to flee to Canada now... July 1, I predict.
What else? Oh, I wore my green Aeros practice sweater for the first time. Love it, even more than the red. Thank you, A! Now if I just had a matching glove and blocker, I'd have a pretty sweet get-up. Not that it matters when I'm out there, but ... well, I'm allowed to be a little vain right? Part of the fun of being a goalie is the gear.
Not sure I'll make it to a stick and puck this week. I missed almost a full week of work last week with computer problems (the joys of telecommuting), so I've got some making up to do. But who knows... the times are later now and the itch may strike on Wednesday.
Ah, the tired is finally setting in. Yay. Bed.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Justin got my attention with this observation in his blog today:
Isn’t it interesting how teams seem to take on the personality of their superstars? Take the Penguins. Wouldn’t it be impossible to goof off and not care when you know Sid is gonna commit Hari Kari if he doesn’t win? Or, on the other side of the coin, wouldn’t you slowly get ostracized in the Capitals dressing room if you weren’t able to have fun while playing?This naturally gets me thinking about the Wild. Their superstar has been Gaborik, right? No wonder they were so frustrating. Or is it Mikko with all his nasty intensity mixed with Finnish reserve?
The Cavaliers are fun because Lebron is. The Lakers are as fun algebra because Kobe is, and the Yankees are awkward and unlikeable because Go Away-Rod is. This has to be why teams are putting in more time getting to know the kids they’re about to draft than back in the day.
Of course, Clutter is the guy you really want driving the personality of a team, right? Hard-working, fun but focused. A healthy Burns isn't a bad guy to be in that position either. Bruno? Backstrom?
What say you, Wild fan?
Strangely, I just don't feel like talking much about practice tonight. It wasn't great, it wasn't awful, I did some crap things, I did some good things. Meh.
Thanks, Scotty, for everything as usual. I had to explain to Mikey that if I'm not pissed off at you, you're not doing your job. He just thinks I'm a raging hot-head who screams for no reason.
I kinda am.
Okay, I totally am.
Speaking of crazy bitches... I'm feeling rather contrary and self-indulgent (what else is new), so...
What's amusing is watching Scott and Luther try and teach me totally opposite ways of doing the same thing, politely disagree about it through gritted teeth, and I'm just like, "You fellas realize I'm gonna do it the way I want, anyway, right?" Seems like there's a lot about goaltending that you just go on feel once you're in the game. Experiencing several ways of doing something is good in practice, but one is going to naturally win out because it just feels right.
Oh, and there was some debate about whether women have groins. They do. I looked it up.
That said, my groins didn't hurt once tonight and I stuck the ol' legs out pretty far on a few saves, and butterfly-shuffled the night away without a wimper from down there. Huzzah. Means it's time to push them some more with my stretching during the week. Abs didn't hurt either while I was on the ice. Amazing how adrenaline works.
Anyway, looking forward to a GAME next week. Need to figure out stick and puck this week, too. It's getting crazy with school letting out. Space City may make more sense this week.
I will say, though, that I came home to Major curled up asleep with his face buried in my new Aeros practice jersey (that I forgot to take with me). Cutest thing EVAR.
It's 3 a.m. I've blogged. I've had my big glass of chocolate milk. But I'm still wide awake, so I'm gonna fuckin' hate Monday morning. But those boys who wolfed down about 10 Bud Light Limes a-piece after hockey tonight are gonna be hating it worse than me. Ha. ;)