A Collection of Thoughts I Had While Playing Hockey For The First Time In Years
Much of my youth was spent searching for creeks where I could throw large rocks at slightly smaller rocks, dominating the Backyard Sports series with Pete Wheeler as my franchise player, and playing roller hockey.
I was barely 6 when I discovered hockey, and my bedroom walls soon bared posters of Theo Fleury, Adam Graves and Mike Richter.
The first league I joined played on a blacktop parking lot in Poughkeepsie, and later moved to a YMCA gym where the air was more humid than anything I’ve felt in my 20 years living in the south. When I first started playing I wasn’t even strong enough to adequately lace up my own skates back then. My dad would tie them for me, then send me off onto the rink.
I was never exceptionally good at hockey, but I loved it. I relished each game and it set me on a path of being obsessed with playing sports and exercising. Playing hockey is the first thing I can remember truly loving doing and I have been, for better or worse, restlessly active ever since.
Much like an old college roommate, hockey and I gradually drifted apart. I didn’t intend to go six years without playing, but you know, life gets in the way, man. For years my bag of gear sat in my folks’ garage, collecting dust and possibly providing shelter to a few rodents. But that changed recently.
The very rink I grew up playing and reffing at was holding a tournament, and a bunch of the guys I played with in college were coming to town to play. I was always a quiet observer in the old team chat, but I broke my silence and announced my return. I’d been craving playing and felt like I had to do it. Worst-case scenario, I figured, was I’m out $100 for some new skates and I get to hang out with some old buddies. I can think of worse ways of spending a weekend.
The following are a few of the things I remember thinking over the course of the magical weekend.
(Inspecting all my old gear): “Do composite hockey sticks..decay over time? Like, is this thing going to snap the first time I take a wrister?”
(Meeting up with the guys at a brewery before our first game): “Maybe I’ll stick to an NA beer, don’t want to put myself in a position to fail.”
(Seeing Ryan and Andy order their third beers): “Some beasts are too wild to tame."
(Putting on my old gloves): “Well I sure hope this smell doesn’t cling to my hands permanently.”
(Walking into the locker rooms at the rink): *countless memories from high school immediately flood my brain, Time To Pretend starts playing in my head*
(Meeting some of the guys on the team who graduated last year): “I bet these poor souls never listened to a Kap Slap hour-long mix at a Terrace View house party.”
(Andy pointing out that I’m the oldest guy on the team): “Oh dear god.”
(Losing traction during warmups and absolutely beefing it): “I swear I remembered wheels having more grip but okay okay okay I’ll figure this out.”
(Watching defenders bounce off Ryan as he carried the puck into their zone): “Alright yeah maybe the beer’s like a magic elixir."
(Completely whiffing on a pass in our own zone that led directly to a goal): “FUCK.”
(Crashing the net and batting a puck in for a goal): “FUCK YES.”
(Huffing air in the third period of our first game): “I was really banking on my cycling fitness to serve me better than this.”
(Laying in bed after the tournament was over): “May God have mercy on all these muscles in my legs I haven’t used in years.”
(A few days removed, legs surprisingly feeling great): “That ruled, wow. I really ought to get out there and play more. How lucky I am to get to line up with the same guys I played with in college. That was awesome. Next time I’m having a real beer before the game.”