Perhaps even you, noble reader, have experienced the infiltration of "anger" and even "frustration" into your daily lives. It could also be that said frustration can lead you to second-guess certain aspects of your life, wondering whether or not whatever it is that you may be second-guessing is really worth continuing at all...Personally, I experienced a stretch of "self-doubt" and "frustration" last year regarding hockey. As you know, if you've read my past entries, I really REALLY love the sport of hockey and, because of that, I love to get out on the ice and play. Until last year, I had been the goaltender for the same recreational team at the mall for 8 (long) years, the team I was on being the first team that was even in the league. Over the course of those 8 years, various members of the team came and went and, eventually, there were very few "originals" left on the team besides myself...Among the players who joined the team "towards the end" were a few individuals who "rubbed me the wrong way," so to speak. One of these jerks in particular, a younger player, regularly got on my nerves because he was a complete slack-ass on the ice, but was always quick to criticize the play of others...In his (simple) mind, If we lost, it was my fault, regardless. Conversely, if we happened to win a game, he would find a way to criticize my play while simultaneously taking credit for the win...Due to this, among other factors, I slowly lost interest in playing my best for the team and, once the team began to lose just about every game we played, pretty much lost interest in playing any hockey at all. I was very close to "hangin' up the skates" when I left that team last year, but was "saved," so to speak, when I joined the Sharks.

I've typed about the exploits of the Sharks on the ol' blog a few times, mostly singing their praises, recapping our better games and things of that nature...Being a member of the Sharks has been a very regenerating and rewarding experience for me personally, serving to remind me how much fun I USED to have playing the hockey. As a team, we enjoyed good success in an intermediate-type league here in town (before being banned, of course (JonGilesisapussy)) and, in an effort to keep the team together, we recently joined the "Advanced" league at that same mall where I once hated playing. To this point, playing in the advanced league has been nothing short of a "baptism by fire (and frozen rubber)." It's a daunting task to jump, effectively, two levels up and just start playing...Sure, there are some teams with which we can compete but, up until now, we've been the cellar-dwellers of the league, though we did post two ties earlier in the season (which are better than losses no matter how you look at it). One of the two teams which we "fought to a draw" earlier in the season happened to be populated by a few of the players which I had played with on the old team including that aforementioned younger player for whom I had (have) such a strong distaste for. I had been looking forward to the "rematch" with this particular team since we played them that first time, not only because I felt that we could, in fact, beat them, but because I really REALLY wanted those fuckers to get a taste of "Sharks hockey" at it's finest...

Sportsmanlike, I know...Anyhow, that rematch occured on Monday night...

Before the game, in the locker room, "Andy" stated something to the effect that he "felt like winning." I replied that we might as well win, it beats losin', and left it at that. Truthfully, I don't like to talk about winning or losing or shutouts or even how the opposing team is apt to play prior to a game, I'd just rather go out and play, reacting as opposed to thinking. It was, however, nice to see that I wasn't the only one who was hungry for a win against those fuckers...Anyway...

As the game got underway Monday night, things seemed to be going well...The Sharks were pressuring the puck very well and the defensemen were doing a fine job of forcing the shooters outside, allowing me to see the shots and pick them off. As should be our wont every time out, we scored the first goal in the game and we scored it early, only a couple minutes into the first period. I was pleased, but knew that it was what it was: just one goal...Fully aware that those assholes on the opposing team were gonna pepper me with shots any chance that they got, I knew I had to "stay in the game" as long as I could. In addition, I assumed that, seeing as I had not played my "best hockey" while I was part of that old team, the opposing players familiar with me would reassure their teammates that it would be an easy night and that I could be counted on to let in just enough goals to lose the game...

Hell, I was HOPING that something like that would happen, I was going to try and use it to my advantage...Of course, I still had to stop some shots...Gotta do my part, y'know...

I kept telling myself to "stay sharp" and "not think, just react." I also decided that I wouldn't allow myself to feel at all complacent until us Sharks boasted a 5-goal lead. Now, this was a relatively unrealistic expectation, if you take into account the fact that, going into Monday night's game, the Sharks hadn't been able to attain anything more than a 2-goal lead at any time during the current season and THAT particular lead occured in the first period of the first game of the season...It also quickly evaporated into a loss, those 2 goals being the only 2 goals which we were able to muster in that first game. Monday night, however, was a different story...The Sharks were flying up and down the ice and, soon enough, another goal was scored. At the end of the first period, we were holding firm to a 2-0 lead. Early in the 2nd period, we added another goal to our tally and, early in the 3rd, we added another. Later in the 3rd, following a flurry of shots from the opposing team which I was able to turn aside, the Sharks picked up the puck, broke out of the zone, skated the length of the ice and put up that magical 5th goal as the result of a brilliant 2 on 1 passing play. All of a sudden, we had attained a 5-0 lead midway through the 3rd period..."Holy crap," I thought..."I could finally relax."

Or could I?..

It seemed that I had, in fact, been correct in the assumption that I would be characterized as a "sieve" by the players with whom I used to play. The frustration level which I would've recognized as my own just a handful of months ago began to manifest itself in the expressions, demeanor and candor of the opposing team. They were not happy about being behind on the scoreboard and, best of all, they absolutely couldn't stomach the fact that they were being shutout by yours truly: big ol' #54, a short, overweight goalie who was minutes away from never even playing again not too long ago. Ahh, sweet revenge, yes? Well, after we scored our 5th goal, the game began to get "chippy," with little fights breaking out here and there, mostly born of the other team's frustrated attitude...I'm usually good for some "chippiness" myself, but on Monday, I just wanted the damn game over with. It seemed, though, as much as I willed it to move faster, the clock appeared frozen, barely clicking off seconds where it usually just flies along...Much like the old saying "a watched pot never boils," and mostly since I was still trying to hang on to the shutout, that friggin' 3rd period soon became the LONGEST PERIOD EVER...Longest...Ever...Take my word for it...Anyway...

With about 6 minutes or so left in the 3rd period, I suddenly didn't have that whole "shutout" thing to worry about anymore...On perhaps the 55th shot which I faced Monday evening, one of the opposing teams' better players put a breakaway shot high over my right shoulder, into the top shelf, notching goal #1 for their side..."No problem," I thought, "it's only one"...I wasn't terribly put out by the whole thing until I heard the scoring player's comment following his solitary goal...

"Up your ass, goalie" he shouted...

Well, no, "over my shoulder," actually, but OK...No problem...I'll file that away for later...

Now, having given up that first goal, I needed to quickly get back into the game, mentally and physically, lest I completely "blow it" and give myself a good reason to never play again...It seems that I didn't get back into the swing of things soon enough, though, because on their next trip up the ice, the opposing team fired a second goal past me on a 2 on 1 rush. Now, for some odd reason, and despite the fact that they were still losing the game, the opposing team reacted to scoring number two as if they'd just won the Stanley friggin' Cup. On top of that, they started actually "talking trash" to me, saying things like "nice save" and "we're right back in it." Yeah, you're right back in it, all right...down 5-2, you got us right where you want us...uh huh.

I realized that, if I were to actually exact my revenge on this friggin' team, I needed to calm down and forget about the goals. I needed to get my head in the game and stop some friggin' shots, but that whole "up your ass, goalie" thing, for whatever reason, continued to bump around inside my brain...I told myself, "you can't let that guy win. You have to do what you can to shove "it" up HIS ass"...I figured that, if I wanted to do that, I'd better just "freeze the puck" whenever it was possible to do so. A few minutes following the opposing team's second goal, I had the opportunity to pull in a lazy shot from the blue line and, instead of playing it up and out of the zone, I simply picked the puck up and waited for a whistle...Now, after I accomplished this innocuous feat, that "younger player" whom I harbor an intense dislike for and whom I mentioned earlier took offense to my picking up the puck...He skated directly up to me and told me that what I had done was, in fact, "a pussy move."

Alright...No problem...Don't knock him out just yet...Just one more thing to file away...

Eventually, the game did end and us Sharks were declared the winners with the final score of 5 to 2. In the "handshake line" following the game, I tried my damnedest to be cordial to the players who hadn't "talked shit" to me, or tried (unsuccessfully) to run me into the goal, or hit me in the head with their sticks or were just assholes in general. I shook everyone's hand, but I added a little more than "good game" to some of these handshakes...Case in point, I let Mr. "up your ass" know that "it" could, in fact, go "up HIS ass" and that he needed to "go fuck himself." I told him this face-to-face, giving him ample opportunity for redress. Following that, I had the very satisfying opportunity to tell that aforementioned younger player that he, in fact, is the "pussy," not I, and that I really do "lack a semblance of respect for him," all while shaking his hand firmly, speaking face-to-face like a good little sportman. Now, you can imagine that the exchange was not as formal as what I've described, but that's OK...Simply put, spewing a whole year-and-a-half of hatred and frustration at the object of said hatred really can be very satisfying. It's not particularly sportsmanlike, or dignified, but it's satisfying nonetheless. Both of the players to whom I gave the "what-for" were stunned and angry, yet neither would get any closer to me than they had to, both still trying their level best to hurl insults my way as they left the ice. At that point, though, I had stopped caring. Hell, after letting all of that bottled-up evil blackness and hatred and stuff out, and after playing as hard as I've probably ever played in a game, I was pretty well spent...I responded to their remote epithets by simply pointing to the scoreboard, holding up 5 fingers on my one hand and 2 on the other...

I've heard many times that "revenge" is a dish which is best "served cold" and I'd have to agree...In fact, it's thoroughly friggin' satisfying "on ice."

Labels: hockey stuff, misguided rantings, sports, tales of triumph