On a boat... in a bad way

I wrote this whole big post yesterday after finishing up Open Net by George Plimpton looking back at how far I've come since I first strapped on the pads (as opposed to usually just being in shock and awe at how far I still have to go).

I talked about how I don't really get sore after I play like I used to and a whole list of other indignities that quietly mock a new goalie.

And I wrapped up that section of the post (I intended to just tack last night's drop-in notes to the end so I never posted it) talking about how the ONLY thing that has come naturally to me as a goalie is my orientation to the net. And that shooters have even commented on it. I always seem to know where my posts are and never get lost in space out in front of my crease.

So naturally, I'm sore, seemingly all over, today. And my angles and net awareness were absolutely GOD AWFUL last night.

Thanks, Hockey Gods. You're super funny... 

I had a bad start to the night, first of all forgetting to fill up my water bottle until everybody's already on the ice. I got to my net and thought, "Something's missing that I usually do right here...." Oh yeah, put my water bottle on top of the cage. Ha.

So I'm lumbering around getting that filled up while everybody else is either warming up on the other goalie (I saw zero warm-up shots) or on a half-hearted mission to find the pegs for my net. *grr* The other net had pegs but not mine. The rink guy can't find them, players are looking on the benches and in the scorekeeper box. They are nowhere to be found.

And of course, I'd set the net in place a little behind the line like I always do when I'm about to peg it, so by the time I got back to it and moved it up to the goal line, the ice was set and the net was sliding all over the place.

I really just couldn't use my posts at all for anything or the net was sliding a foot out of line in one direction or another.

So that rattled me and whatever natural inner net compass I have went spinning like a top. I just didn't have my bearings or any faith in where my net was. Felt like I was playing on a boat.



Not in a cool way though, mother fucker.

I know the kids have to play with the nets unpegged and man, that sucks. I feel sorry for the little bastards.

So, yeah, that was a pretty shitty night in goal. But it didn't feel like the kind of shitty that's going to leak into tonight's game. Just a weird "thrown off from the start" kinda night. I'll get a good warm-up tonight and be just fine against Captain Hat Trick and her crew of ringers. ;)

Gun Show (the hot boy who plays our drop-in) was amazed by one save I made that was pure dumb luck. They were trying to jam the puck in over my right pad next to the post and I stopped a couple of the bounces from going in. He was impressed but I wasn't even moving so it wasn't anything I did other than be in the right place. They just couldn't lift it over the pad.

But after all that suck, it was nice that someone was focused more on that one silly lucky stop than the rest of the garbage. Gun Show, to his credit, doesn't act like he's hot. He's a pretty nice guy. And also very VERY hot. And changes out in the stands with us so we get to see his big, tan muscles. Lordy. Yay for Gun Show!

Anyway, on to bigger and better things tonight. And what better way to start a fresh new day than with some JaegerPorn. O hai!

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Open Net; Feeling Good

I'm reading Open Net by George Plimpton, about the time he played in net for the Bruins during training camp and then played a bit in an exhibition game.

Not quite halfway through and I find it... not hard to read but not written like I want it to be written. But I'll reserve further judgement until I've finished.

However, I loved this line about when a goal is scored and I had to share it:

The puck sits in the nets like a dog's mess on the carpet. 

I can't really think of a better way to put it. I'm so repulsed by pucks in my net, I won't touch them. Once I see the puck's in the net, I won't even turn around again. I'm done with it.

The ref or my defense have to fish it out, because I've moved on to my "spend 10 seconds figuring out what went wrong and then forget it" routine. Sometimes I forget to move out of the way. Like, that puck might as well be in orbit around Jupiter for how much I want to do with it after it's in.

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Fun game tonight at Memorial City. I played with this group once before, back before Christmas, and wasn't happy with my game, but I feel like I did a good job learning their rhythm and tendencies in that game and it paid off tonight.

One guy kept getting breakaways and trying wrap-arounds, which was nice practice, and probably a good break because he's good and could have put it in on me at will if he wanted. The only one that went in I got, but it slid around the base of my pads and Bonnie banged it home because I had no idea it was just sitting in front of me.

For the life of me, I don't understand why defensemen won't SAY something when I'm sitting there stock still thinking I have it. Tell me I don't have it so I can get the flippers going or something! Oy.

But that's alright. This group is lousy with positivity, such that it tempers my natural ... what shall we call it... bitchiness? :)

It's a real credit to them how they integrate very novice players with very experienced players at this skate. The pace is steady and not annoying for the goalie like some novice level games can be. Speaking of which, my goalie brothers and sisters might enjoy this article from The Goalie Guild on playing casually vs. attentively.

It provided some clarity for me around LOOKING casual vs. BEING casual. I love goalies who have the confidence to be quiet in net and it comes across as being casual. So when I started playing and mimicked that style of "presence" in net, I confused looking casual with being casual. I'm finally learning that I MUST be attentive, but I can be quiet in the process.

Anyway, just read the article. It's good stuff.

And good luck to the Harpies in Vegas!

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I feel good. :) But please send some healing booboo love out to my goalies Maalivahti and Brusty who are both dinged up. I least I hope Brusty is just dinged up. My girl Maalivahti is a little more than dinged up. Send her some love, please, Goalie Union.

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Christmas and Roli and Fatso and Sawchuk

Confession time: I don't much like Christmas. I'm a terrible gift giver because I don't ever shop "for fun," which means that unlike people who tend to be good gift givers, I never have a chance to run across something that's just perfect for so-and-so. Another way in which I'm such a dude.

Which means I have to come up with ideas out of thin air. And I suck at ideas. I'm great at executing other people's ideas, and occasionally I have a flash of brilliance that keeps people thinking I might have a few good ideas in me, but it's all smoke and mirrors.

Also, I'm just straight up really, really self-absorbed. So if you're not into what I'm into, then I have no idea what you like. My family members are all getting Clutterbuck jerseys and tequila this year. It's the thought that counts, right?

Mr. C and I decided our gift is a mutual one this year: our new TV. And that's peachy. I might still order myself a Dubielewicz Team Canada sweater just for being a good girl. I mean, who doesn't want one of those?

Anyway, I finished my shopping at the liquor store this morning and we'll head to my parents for Baby Jesus Day and then it will blessedly be over and I can get back to being self-absorbed in a more guilt-free way. I love my family and don't see them enough, but still, my favorite part of Christmas is the drive home, car full of loot, a fresh year at my doorstep when I get home. It's a good feeling.

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I play again tonight for the first time in over a week. At least I think I do. Nobody's told me not to show up, but I missed last week due to my dead car, so who the hell knows what's going on. Anyway, I've missed it. Mr. C asked if I wanted him to come with me and I felt bad, but I really kinda want to go alone. It's my last chance at having some time to myself for a few days and I feel like I need to savor it.

Looking at the calendar, I notice there's an Aeros game on Monday. Seriously hoping my Monday drop-in doesn't want me to come out because I will absolutely have to turn her down, but it will hurt to do so.

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A couple of unreal goalie events last night.

First was Dee-wayne Roloson's Stick and Chimp Saves.



The level of compete to get back and even make the first save, much less follow it up with that dangling monkey crossbar save just blows my mind. And the guy is 97 years old.

Talk to me about Roloson for a second... how underappreciated is he for what he brings at his age?

Here's the thing about me and loving goalies: I love for my team to win, but I watch a LOT of hockey, so I appreciate some entertainment value. (Logical question here is, "Why the fuck are you a Wild fan, now?" Yeah, I know. Sometimes your team chooses you rather than the reverse.)

So, if I have a choice of an extremely technical, positional, calm, steady goalie or a Turco/Thomas/Roloson who maybe has a crap game here and there and maybe doesn't play the prettiest kind of goal... well, there's really no question for me. Put some offense up front and just beat me senseless with insane goaltending.

Which is why, even though he is truly an exceptional goalie, Backstrom has never lit my fire. He's so good but so uninspiring to me.

I suppose I have the best of both words, right? MY team has the really steady boring goalie. I'm watching them anyway, so I don't need him to be that entertaining for me to dig it.

But if I'm gonna watch Bruins, Islanders, or Stars where I don't really have any skin in the game, gimme the goalie who tackles players, swings like a monkey, or sometimes skates so far out of his net, you think he's joining the rush (don't you want to see Turco do that sometime? Just take it to the net? Richards centering Neal and Turco? Oh hell yeah.)

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The other biggie is, of course, Marty Brodeur surpassing Sawchuk's shutout record. Say what you want about the defenses he's played behind and blah blah blah, but this guy is just a sexy beast of a goalie and there will never be another one like him.

What fascinates me about Brodeur is that I can't fucking figure out what he's doing out there. He just stops pucks. All my training has been butterfly this and that but he's just doing something else out there. There's a reason you never hear someone is a "Brodeur-style goalie."

But enough is said of Brodeur, so I would encourage you to learn more about Sawchuk if you are learning about the game and its history still. He was a reclusive guy, so there's not a ton out there about him, but his life's story is sad and amazing. Stu Hackel at the New York Times wrote a great piece on him when Brodeur tied the record earlier this month and it's a great Sawchuk primer.

Included in the Times article is a review (and recommendation) for a book I reviewed here last year after it came out. And it continues to be one of my top TWO reads of all the hockey books I've read, along with The Game by Ken Dryden (who is smarter than you).

Night Work: The Sawchuk Poems by Randall Maggs is just a beautiful book. I have a number of hockey books, almost all of which I'm happy to loan to anybody who is interested, but this one is staying with me. Go get your own.

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Unless I need to unburden myself of tonight's drop-in, this is probably it for a few days. Have a safe and happy and healthy holiday. Enjoy some time off and too much food and too much drink (but please don't drive) and too much family and more blessings than you can shake a stick at.

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Book Review: Night Work: The Sawchuk Poems

I'll admit, I don't read much poetry. Okay, any poetry. As a kid, I enjoyed writing it but a brief obsession with Shel Silverstein was the extent of reading it outside of English assignments (and I'll be honest, I relied heavily on Cliff's Notes).

Still, as a writer, I identify with the effort of good writing, even if I'm not willing to put in the effort of reading it. And to some degree, poetry does take a bit more effort than your average prose. It's not for the easily distracted or those who demand instant gratification. Fortunately, the only thing that truly holds my attention in absolutely any form (KHL issues excluded) is hockey, and being a glutton for punishment, I believe a little delayed gratification is good for the soul.

So, when I found out Night Work: The Sawchuk Poems, a book of poetry by Randall Maggs about late goaltending legend, Terry Sawchuk, was coming out last spring, I knew it was something I had to take a crack at. Of course, being a fairly new hockey fan at the time, I also needed to bone up on who Terry Sawchuk was beyond his Wikipedia entry.

I started my Sawchuk education by reading his biography, Sawchuk: The Troubles and Triumphs of the World's Greatest Goalie by David Dupuis. It's a good, thorough book whose author obviously had to dig pretty hard to scrounge up a lot of information on the famously reclusive, reserved hockey great. While I'm not saying the book is a prerequisite, I know myself well enough to know that if I feel like I'm missing part of the story, I'll get frustrated. I found having the baseline information helpful.

Even with this knowledge, there were times I found myself wondering where the author was taking me with a particular piece. Perhaps a more seasoned poetry aficionado would have known to be patient and trust that a good poet will eventually unfold the story for you. He did every time and it was always gratifying and worth the wait.

And what this book turned out to be was not just a book about a hockey player or a book of poetry. At times straightforward, at times teasing, sensual, mysterious, or sad, it is an experience as much as a book.

Night Work is brilliant in at least two ways. First, as a book, it's varied in style, tone, perspective, always changing just when you think it could get dull. Always forcing you to chew a bit, and chew slowly at that, and being all the more enjoyable when you surrender to the pace of the writing.

Second, it's the idea itself: poetry about a hockey goalie? Maggs is utterly inspired for seeing what an ideal subject Sawchuk's life is for such treatment. The style is spot on, nothing maudlin, saccharine, or cliche. Just a constant, subtle restraint that pulls you along, wanting more.

Here's an excerpt from one of my favorites:

No Country for Old Men

(i)

I'd like to leave hockey like that. In good style.
Someone read his lips and wrote it down.

Bedlam drowned the words themselves. An uproar
after the miracle, jubilation, the clatter of sticks flung down
on the dressing room floor like crutches in a pile,
hair-stuck tape and plaster peeled away.
Down to the raw, gap-toothed, wrapped in towels,
the shouts and candour of the showers, though each
of the Leafs had stopped to speak a word or two to Terry,
each taking in the open flap of undershirt, the old man's bones
like a washboard. Where the devil does he find it?

The seeming fleshless legs without their pads.

(ii)

Half undressed he slumps
against the wall, no one says a word
about the cigarette in his hand. He'd drink a 7 UP
but can't get up and wouldn't ask. A fog billows out
of the showers. Bare feet flap the marshy floor.
Cautiously, the press guys squeeze between the massive flanks
and watch their backs--a snapping towel could tear your ear,
or worse, take the arse right out of your suit.
A little getting even masked as a joke.

A Leaf or two has slipped away and the older guys
are quieter now, more thoughtful, knotting ties,
one by one they sense a deepening silence in the room
and turn to look where Terry's resting, panting, having
wrestled off his sodden shirt. Their eyes tell them
armload of plums, say peacock's plumage.
Their fingers pause in their intricate task. Jesus, Ukey,
someone breaks the silence. The whole room
gapes at the hammered chest and belly. Easy to count
the darker nine or ten from Hull. They can't even look
at the shoulder, but watch as he peels off the infamous underwear
and heads without a word toward the showers.

These were guys who'd paid their dues,
who'd seen it all. But this was a moment that got their attention,
seeing what they'd asked of him that night.

Seriously, a most excellent book. Go here and buy yourself a copy and wallow in your hockey nerditude. You know you want to. I never re-read books, but this one will be an off-season staple for years to come. That's about as high a compliment as I can give any piece of literature.

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The Insomnia that Never Sleeps!

Honestly, I just lay awake in bed with every single worry about the game on Sunday swirling in my head. I have to be deliriously sleepy to fall asleep. Of course, this makes me incredibly tired during the day and as soon as I'm done with work, I pass out on the couch and then wake up for dinner. And here I am at 2:46 a.m. Fudge.

But at least I've gotten all my shows watched. Priorities, you know.

And I'm trying to read this book called "The Hammer" about Dave Schultz, but it's all about how he regrets being an enforcer in the NHL. Come on, Dave! It's not as badly written as I expected it to be, but the content is a bit disappointing. I mean, I know enforcers have the shittiest job on the ice, but this is kinda like how that Roe vs. Wade lady is now saying she things abortion should be illegal. Come on! You're ruining it for the rest of us, eh? So I get irritated with it before I get sleepy enough to fall asleep.

Went to the Galleria to skate tonight. It was good mentally but I'm not going back there until school is back in session. It was literally just overrun with kids. And I really wanted to work on stopping, but doing that on a sheet that's jam packed with rental-skaters is just asking for trouble and frustration. So I only skated for 30 minutes and then just bailed. It just wasn't worth the hassle.

Gonna do yoga tomorrow come hell or high water. My knees were hurting a bit on the ice and I clearly have some stuff that needs stretching out.

You ever feel like you really just need to get sloppy drunk? That's how I'm feeling this week. Like a bender is imminent. But other than some beer after the game Sunday, I'm not sure when I'm gonna pull that off. Oh! I have kaluha! A kaluha and cream (okay, 1% milk) will put me to sleep, right? If not, it will at least be delicious. Good night!

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Sawchuk & Stuff

My hockey reading continues. I am about 2 chapters from being done with the Sawchuk biography after spending the whole flight home reading it yesterday. Just in time, too, as the book of poems about Sawchuk arrived in the mail today.

The biography has been good so far, though I have to admit the descriptions of who passed to whom to score a goal get tedious. I would have had an issue with that if I'd been his editor. But overall, it's been a good read and I feel well prepared and very excited to read Night Work. And it's got a good bibliography with other books I might like to read. Will post a review as soon as I'm done.

Been a bad goalie-in-training this week though. Haven't worked out at all. *cringe* But now I'm home and things should be getting back to regular soon.

We scored tickets to the game tonight, so I'm very excited to see my guys again after nearly a month away from the Toyota Center. They've been doing so well, I'm afraid I'm going to jinx them or something. Ms. Conduct may be laying low so as to fly under the hockey gods' radar. :)

Kassian's been called up. Byers, the face smashing goon, only got a 3 game suspension. I dunno. I just hope we continue to play disciplined hockey and not get so carried away trying to be tough guys. Seems like, as with defense coming before offense, discipline should come before gooneration.

I really wanted to find a time to go skate over the next couple of days, but my lunchtimes are full of meetings and evenings full of hockey. Maybe Saturday afternoon, though it's looking like Coach Stalin and I might play a little driveway hockey Saturday. There is public skate from 1-5 on Sunday though, so maybe then.

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Distracted

Aside from reading about hockey and watching a fair bit, I've done nothing I should be doing this week, other than my skate on Monday night. *hangs head* Feeling very stymied yet doing nothing about it. Obsessive is the only way I know to go about things like this, so to turn off the obsession means turning off my motivation. :\

But today, at the very least, I'll do the exercises my chiro gave me. I also discovered that the Wollman rink is still open in Central Park, so that is much easier to get to and with better hours than Chelsea Piers. If the ice is decent, that'll be my rink for the duration. I've got a date to go Monday with my friend Tory from Seattle, who is going to be on the Today show Monday morning. Can't wait to see her and hear all about her national TV debut.

Meanwhile, I have a huge amount of work to get done today, so I need to quit dreaming about hockey and do it. Though speaking of dreaming, I dreamt about playing goal all night last night. At least it felt like that. That's what I get for reading the Terry Sawchuk biography before bed. So far it's a good read and is getting me ready for the review copy that the publisher of the book of poetry about Sawchuk is sending me. How nice is that? I'm really looking forward to reading that book and posting a review here.

I did finish In The Bin on the plane up. Pretty funny book. Good inside look at what off-ice officials deal with. I have a new appreciation for my buddy who works the opponents penalty box for the Aeros.

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Hockey Books

I asked the (usually) nice folks over at the Wild message board to give me their favorite hockey book recommendations and got a great response. My Wish List overfloweth...

Anyway, several of them are out of print and only available used, so I decided to go ahead and snag those, plus a few of the newer ones, and then a pre-order. Here's what I got:

• Sawchuk: The Troubles and Triumphs of the World's Greatest Goalie by David Dupuis which I got in anticipation of the book I pre-ordered: Night Work: The Sawchuk Poems by Randall Maggs, which is an entire book of poetry about Terry Sawchuk and goaltending. Click the link and read the sample from it. Really excited about that.
• In the Bin: Reckless and Rude Stories from the Penalty Boxes of the NHL by Lloyd Freeberg
• The Code: The Unwritten Rules Of Fighting And Retaliation In The NHL by Ross Bernstein
• The Hammer: Confessions of a Hockey Enforcer by Dave Schultz
• Enforcer: With a Foreword by Link Gaetz by Valerie J. Wood

And there are still 9 more books on my Amazon wish list that I want to read and one that is only available (at a reasonable price) in Canada. But they're all in print, so I'm not as anxious to make sure I get them. I'll be sure to review all of these here as I get thru them.

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