Miracle

Kira is on a hockey team and Mitch is her coach.  He has a new group of girls this year and they aren't quite as dedicated as the team he had last year.  When I say that, I mean that they might hesitate if he gave the order, "Team: KILL-" whereas last year something would be dead before he could say, "You didn't let me finish! I was going to say, 'Team, Kill the music! Oh dear god! Someone call the police!'"  There are pros and cons to both kinds of teams.  For example, yesterday between periods when Mitch was trying to use his two minutes of down time to talk shop with the girls by telling them to stay focused on the game, one of the girls interjected with,

"Last night I coughed so hard that a noodle came up.  And I don't even remember the last time I ate noodles!"

Mitch's Herb Brooks-ish speech was overtaken by a discussion about strange things that have come out of the girls' bodies.  Mostly things they've coughed up but also,

"I farted so loud once it made my dog bark."

Last year's team hardly ever lost a game, but they also never spent game time talking about mystery-lung-noodles or canine-startling-flatulence.  Which team would you rather be on?

Chicken Fights

The other night Mitch and I were at the hockey rink for one of Kira's games.  We were waiting for her to come out of the locker room and he was remembering an out-of-town tournament a few years ago that I didn't go to.

At out-of town tournaments all the families get rooms at the same hotel, usually one with a pool and if possible, a waterslide.  The kids go nuts in the pool and the parents (some of them, anyway) party.  Sometimes things get pretty wild.

On the trip Mitch was talking about, the one I didn't go to, he said that late one night one of the dads came and got him out of his room to participate in chicken fights in the pool with the other parents.  Mitch said he and his partner didn't win.  At this point I was feeling a little huffy.  He was having chicken fights in a pool  with some drunk mom on his shoulders and he never told me about it?  What?  Isn't this something a guy should mention to his WIFE?  I snottily said, "Oh yeah, who was your partner?"

He said, "Kyle."

Oh. It was all dads.  And after the chicken fight tournament they had waterslide speed trials.

Some observations on men's ice hockey

I just finished watching the U.S/Canada gold medal game in the Olympics. (BTW, congrats, Canada, good game.) Anyway, I was struck by a few things while watching. I'm used to watching either Pee Wee boys, or 10 year old girls play, and men play quite differently. First of all, it's a lot faster. In fact, so fast that I had a lot of trouble following the puck. This makes the play by play by the announcers all the more impressive. Their brains work so fast! They must be geniuses. (I'm serious)

Another thing is that none of them wear face masks which makes me think that men think it's cool to lose teeth. Hey guys, it's not that cool. I see that they wear mouth guards, but that is not going to prevent a puck that's going 100 mph from smashing through all of your front teeth.

There was also a lot of spitting. More spitting than I've seen in any other sport. Why are they spitting so much? No wonder they are so thirsty. You never see a figure skater spitting on the ice. Maybe that's why they don't wear facemasks, in order to have more spitting freedom.

My last observation was that they are constantly racing from one side of the rink to the other. That has to be tiring. Why don't they pick a position and stick with it? My friend Tonya did this in gym class and she was the all-time highest gym-sport scorer in the history of FHS (this is a totally anecdotal guess on my part. I don't think anyone actually keeps those statistics.) She would stand right next to the goal and wait. Usually the goalie was Joe, who was the star hockey goalie on the school team. I bet Tonya made more goals on him than any single other person.

Here's Joe and Tonya in their soccer positions:

Here they are in their floor hockey positions:
Here they are in their ice hockey positions:
Here's Tonya making a goal in soccer:
Here's Joe's reaction to it:

He has just jumped onto the chain length fence that surrounds the field and is shaking it to get his rage out at being scored on by Tonya for the 500th time.

Here he is after she scored on him during ice hockey:

He's hanging off the boards and shaking them and screaming. Tonya made more goals than anyone, her team never lost and she never broke a sweat running around like a fool. I hope she got good grades in gym.

Go Team Go! (no, please, don't go)

We are right now at this very moment getting ready for Sam's (hopefully) last hockey game. They are in the playoffs and are a pretty good team. They are playing a team today that beat them 11 to 3 earlier in the season, so I am hoping with every fiber of my being that they get beaten today, (does that sound awful?) because if they don't get beaten today, they have a very good chance of going to the State Tournament which would mean a few weeks more of hockey and a(nother) weekend-long out-of-town tournament. I am willing to do just about anything to avoid that after watching 30,000 games, driving 110,000 miles to and from practices, and dealing with my nemesis.

I am thinking of hobbling their one and only goalie. I don't want to do it because he is the sweetest kid in the world, but he's a very good goalie. If someone were to give him a minor, totally non-permanent injury that would necessitate him wearing an eye patch for the next week or so, that would be perfect. "But Coach, I thought the puck was ten feet away and then it just went in! I don't know what happened!"

Perfect.

This is how much I love my son

I love him so much that on this, the first night of the last season of LOST, I took him to a hockey game. I sat there and froze my large buns off and listened to Emesis's husband, Vomitus, say that if the team didn't start playing better they weren't going to get the cookies Emesis brought for them, and they were going to go back to our arena and skate until they PUKE.

Yes, I listened to that and watched the 15,233rd game of the season which was another tie. Which means there was an overtime. Which means the game was just that much longer.

All this was happening and at home my woodstove was making my basement nice and toasty and LOST was starting. Now I'm watching it, but I missed an hour and I don't know what the heck is going on. Why were they all on the plane that landed in L.A.? That didn't happen. Did it? I saw Juliet die. Sad. I love Hurley's sideburn/chops. What is this cave they are going into and where is that creepy little guy, Ben, with the bulgy eyes? Who is the guy in the turban? Is it still the 70's? I will never catch up now.

That's how much I love my son.

Mitch had his hockey picture taken

Kira's hockey association had pictures the other night. They had a professional photographer that meticulously placed every girl for the picture according to height which took a while. Then she said, "Okay, Coach Mitch, you get in the picture too," and this is where he stood. The photographer, knowing how restless 60 hockey-playing girls can be, wanted him to move his ass over where he was supposed to go, but he wouldn't move until he got a picture taken. Unfortunately he had to settle for someone taking a picture with their phone because the photographer was NOT going to take the picture with him in the front.

Apparently she doesn't know that girl's hockey is all about him. I like how happy he is with his little joke, and how unfazed all the girls are at how obnoxious he is. Also, his feet look like potatoes. Click on the pic for a closer look and see for yourself.

Sports fan

The weirdest thing happened at hockey tonite. First of all, let me preface this story by saying that today was the 650th consecutive day of hockey. (It's getting a little tiresome.) So anyway, one of the team dads was hitting people up to buy raffle tickets for a team fundraiser, so everyone got some. Then one of the team moms went around told everyone that "we" were throwing a little party after the scrimmage tomorrow night (consecutive day #651) and everyone owes her $10 for the food. Annoying. So I gave up the only cash I have had in weeks. Then I watched as she moved along to the next parent and I actually saw the straw that broke the camel's back.

Super-duper hockey Mom (SDHM): Hi! We're hosting a party for the kids after the scrimmage tomorrow night and I'm asking everyone to pitch in ten dollars for the food!

Sick-to-death-of-goddamn-hockey Mom (STDOGDHM): I just bought raffle tickets!

SDHM: Yeah! The party is going to be really fun. We're having taco in a bag! And do you think you'd have time to make brownies tomorrow? We'll need about six pans so if you could make two pans that would be great!

STDOGDHM: Taco in a bag and brownies huh? Sounds GREAT! I can't wait! Let me get you your money. Hey, on second thought why don't you just take my debit card, my PIN is 5780, just take out what "the team" needs whenever. Then you won't have to ask me for something every goddamn night and I won't have to look at your perky goddamn face and fight the urge to rip your hair out.

Then SDHM started crying and ran out of the arena.


Just kidding. That didn't really happen. But it would be so great if it did.

Sport rant

I was thinking about sports today, and I'm not a fan. (Although I love watching the olympics. hmm...) My whole family and all my in-laws are in love with hockey. I was thinking, in general about different sports today and I think hockey is the third stupidest sport. Football is first, by far. Any sport where you know there's a better than average chance that you'll become crippled, either from an immediate snap to the neck or from arthritis later in life, is idiotic. That's just a fact. Hockey is the third stupidest because in order to play, you have to have a special climate controlled building (expensive) so you can freeze a sheet of ice and then strap sharp blades to your feet (dangerous) and go slide around on it and chase a puck with sticks. As a parent it's no fun for me because I can't actually see my kids. They are hidden behind about 40 pounds of padding and clothing to keep them warm and to protect their bodies from the rock hard ice, and razor sharp blades on everyone's feet.

There is a whole hockey culture that grates on my nerves too. The parents are super fans. I kind of feel bad for not being that in to my kid's activities. (sorry honey, I'm just not that into you) The moms run the concession stand at the local rink every day. The first year Sam was in hockey one of the moms called and left a message on our machine telling me my volunteer schedule for the concession stand. I don't think they really get what volunteer means. The dads flood the outdoor rink every night. They do it in shifts so each shift has to do it about two or three times a week. During games the parents come totally decked out in the team colors or in team jerseys and jackets and sweatshirts, and they scream and cheer and ring cowbells. Yes, I said cowbells. Why? I'm flabbergasted by it. It's not like that in soccer. The parents all go, but they sit on the sidelines and make jokes like, "So, what DAY do you think this game will end? Ha ha ha." Hockey parents never do that, and a little tip - they don't like when other people do it either. Oh, and the locker rooms in arenas STINK.

The second stupidest sport is figure skating, for all the same reasons as hockey, but without any protective gear for the scantily clad little darlings doing spinning jumps with blades on their feet. Hello concussion! Nice to meet you!

Kira's New Move

Kira has a new hockey move that she tried out last week. She gets the puck in a breakaway, and when she gets close to the goalie she yells, "Watch this!" and throws a glove, and when the goalie looks at the glove, she scores. It works but she's been discouraged from doing it. I suppose it's like a "cry wolf" type deal and she should hone her actual hockey skills instead of her I-can-outsmart-an-8-year-old skills.

There was a hockey tournament last weekend. We traveled to Aurora/Hoyt Lakes and watched a LOT of hockey. After the exciting first 10 minutes of the first of many MANY games, I went to the local Ben Franklin and got some yarn and a crochet hook and crocheted four hats.

Hockey

Hockey is in full swing again. Kira is playing this year, but Sam isn't. (To me this means there's half as many games I have to avoid) He couldn't get permission from the Duluth Amateur Hockey Association to play for Hermantown, where he goes to school, (stupid) and he's really not that into it anymore anyway. They start checking in Pee Wees anyway so I think he would have hated that. Not very safety conscious. Last year when his team won the championship they were all so happy that they pig piled in the middle of the ice. Sam skated around and watched until the last player jumped on, and then he went and casually leaned on the pile for a few seconds just to be a part of it. That was enough.

Kira is playing for the neighborhood team again and Mitch is coaching so I'll probably have lots of good stories to tell because those kids are nuts. There is a boy named Dylan on her team, and he is super cute, super scrawny, and pretty wild and obnoxious. This year he's also a bit of a second grade ladies man. There was a new girl in the warming house the other day. She took off her helmet and she has a fuzzy face. She's really blond and she has kind of a peach fuzz beard. Dylan noticed right away and Mitch was thinking he was going to watch Dylan point out the beard, and then get beaten to a pulp by the girl, but Dylan went right up to her, softly rubbed her cheek and said, "This means you have lots of friends."