Goaded into a hockey challenge, and feeling it

St. Paul Pioneer Press ^ | 01/19/2008 | JOE SOUCHERAY

[rhema]

The call came from the mother of a kid in the MacGroveland neighborhood. She said the kids were going to play hockey on the neighborhood rink and if I was any kind of man at all, I would find my skates and get over there.

I knew where my skates were, trusty old CCMs. A guy at George's on Grand Avenue told me they were classics because they featured a bit of kangaroo leather in the heel.

"I don't have a stick,'' I told the little guy's mom.

"There's a barrel full of sticks,'' she said.

"I'll be right there.''

The little guy was waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of his house. He had a sawed-off stick with about 3 pounds of electrical tape to make a knob. He carried his skates over his shoulder on the shaft of the stick. He looked like a boy in the winter. I was so instantly taken back to a different time that we might as well have walked to the caboose warming house. Ray Rolling would be inside next to the stove, pounding his fist into a three-fingered baseball glove. I would have to tell the kid about all that.

We set off for the rink. It was three houses down. One of the dads in the neighborhood made the rink, a backyard rink. I tried to make one once, but the water ran into the alley and we ended up skating round and round a tree in the back yard where the water froze in the flat spots at the base of the tree.

"Pretty neat rink,'' the little guy said.

"I'll say.''

Two other little guys were cutting about on the rink. They looked pretty good. Another neighborhood mom was pulling a couple of little girls on a plastic toboggan. We laced up our skates. I couldn't think of the last time. I really couldn't. But everything clicked into place, the smell of the cold air, the hollow thump of the puck on the boards; the rink was framed by boards about 8 inches high, just enough to keep the puck in play. "I feel sorry for you guys,'' I said. "You're in for a thumping.''

The little guy beat me to the ice, and he took off in the longest strides I had ever seen. He had a unique style. I stood up on the ice and selected a stick from the barrel. I slapped the stick on the ice a few times and again threatened the three little guys with a thumping.

They gave themselves names, Sidney Crosby, Marian Gaborik, Wayne Gretzky.

"You will call me Maurice,'' I said, "the great Maurice Richard.''

The mom pulling the little girls on the plastic toboggan looked at me and said, "You're a lot like them - intellectually, I mean.''

"Yup,'' I said.

It became evident that I would defend the rink's one real goal, at the alley end of the ice. To score at their end, I had to hit an overturned yellow plastic bucket. They had never been exposed to the crossed-stick face off, where you and the opponent lift your stick off the ice three times, touching them, and then go for the puck. I taught them that, and the game began.

I went up 2-0 in a New York minute. If you thought I was going to let the Lilliputians beat me, you've got another thought coming. The dad whose yard was being sacrificed stuck his head out the back door and informed us that San Diego was beating Indianapolis.

"An upset,'' I bellowed, tearing around the rink.

The little guys announced that the period was over, and they said they were going into their locker room. They collected themselves in a snow bank and appeared to be plotting. When the second period started, they took turns minding the bucket. But they sprawled in front of it, effectively taking away any shot unless I carved in there and somehow tucked the biscuit against the bucket. I didn't have that carve move like I used to. In the meantime, they were scoring goals in bunches. They went up 5-2, then 7-3, then 9-5, then 10-8.

This time, I called an end to the period, and I went to my locker room, a picnic table bench. I was huffing. My knees ached. I think my right hip had slipped out of its socket.

"Let's go, Maurice,'' they called.

I wobbled out to center ice. They seemed to sense I was ready to be taken down, like some beast out on the plains. I got one good rush and a shot that shattered the bucket, but they won, 13-9. They lifted their sticks in the air and punched each other's fists.

I took my skates off, and even that brought back a different time, the way your feet feel in shoes after being on skates.

"You got anything to say, Maurice?''

"Yeah. I want a rematch.''

[halfright]

I missed hockey growing up. It wasn’t until I moved to PA and met this pretty lass that convinced me that she was the one that I found hockey. Local friend was best man and he took me to a Flyers game in 1976. We were sitting behind the opposition goalie. I did not know what hockey was being raised in the south. Most awesome game! Reggie Leach put a shot between the goalies out side pad and the goal post. Looked to be about 5 inches wide. The place went nuts and I was hooked.
I have not missed a Flyers game in some form of media or other since 1976. Last year was tough but our GM, Holmgren, did a fantastic job in free agency and last night we kicked the stinkin’ Senators to enter a tie for first place. tomorrow night we have the stinkin’ Devils. Big game,Can’t wait. Gotta get those stinkin’ Rangers, too. ROFL and ducking

[airborne]

LOL! I can’t trade him, even if I wanted to!

And I don’t!

[Hat-Trick]

Thanks for posting. Everytime I’m up in the Cities, I try to remember to find Garage-Logic on the AM dial.

[Caleb1411]

Thanks for posting. Everytime I’m up in the Cities, I try to remember to find Garage-Logic on the AM dial.

You can also listen online, as many of us Twin Citians do.

[spectr17]

I grew up skating on the frozen ponds and creeks in Mizzurah. Dad took me to the St. Louis Stars games to watch Noel Picard and the boys. Then the Blues came to town and hockey was the talk of the town.

Bobby Orr was my hero and I painted the #4 on the outside heel of the skates like many of the players did. First pair of skates were Bauer Black Panthers mom bought me for $40.

[cowboyway]

North Carolina here...I play once or twice a week.

I'm originally from NC. I used to play in Cary and in Charlotte when I lived there. Played in the State Games in Fayetteville a couple of times. That was a trip. We played a team of Airborne dudes one year in the finals and they were gooning it up the whole time. We beat them and won the Gold.

I reside in SC now and play in Greenville when I'm home but I've been down here on an assignment for the past year and was quite happy to find a rink just 15 miles away.

[MetalHeadConservative35]

Hockey = my life when im not play guitar lol i havent been able to play lately, but when i do..the local drop in can turn into game 7 of a stanley cup finals real fast. the rink i play at is very competitive