I wanted to create a fun and quirky and original name for my blog. If you couldn't gather from the whole "Puck-Damaged Mind" part that I play hockey, then you're probably not too smart. If you figured out that I'm a goalie (without looking at the picture to the right), then kudos to you!
You're probably asking yourself, "Why is he a goalie?" No, you're probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
Back when I was a kid (say 7 or 8 years old), my four brothers and I would play a lot of street hockey. We had lots of shooters and a net, but no goalie to guard that net. I was the only one willing to try it out. Who knew I'd fall in love with the position? Some people say that goalies usually have a few screws loose to be able to let people shoot hard rubber discs at them. To those people, I have only this to say: You're probably right. My friends and family would agree that I'm a little "quirky." I'm just, different. I prefer to think it's a good kind of different. However, it does lead to some weird looks sometimes with some of the things I say or do. I don't know anyone who would disagree with the notion that I'm just a little odd, at the very least. It's hard to spell out my quirks and habits via text on a blog. Many of them you just have to see in person.
I'm getting off track again. This happens a lot.
So here I am, 7 or 8 years old, getting shot at by my brothers and neighbors. I'm equipped with knee pads, a hockey glove for a blocker, a baseball glove, a catcher's chest protector, and no helmet. At least, I don't recall wearing a helmet until I donned a Jason mask later on. A real helmet would come later.
I remember when I got my first set of pads. It was Christmas 1993, and we had just moved to Crystal Lake that summer. All the neighbor kids were boys around my age and the ages of my brothers. We has basically formed a little street hockey league in front of our house before the winter had set in. Until that Christmas, I went out there in my gear (or lack thereof) and did my best to stop pucks. Well, we used tennis balls or street hockey balls made of plastic. So I guess it's safe to say that as a kid, I was pretty good with handling balls. Ha!
So, back to Christmas 1993. I had this big present among the rest of my others. And we all know that the bigger the present, the better the present, right? In that big box were a set of leg pads, a glove and a blocker, all made by Mylec brand. Needless to say, my reaction was probably similar to this. I walked around in those pads all morning.
Come spring, you can bet your ass I was out there stopping pucks or balls or whatever with my brand new Mylec goalie pads! Another thing that happens in spring is the NHL playoffs. We used to listen to Chicago Blackhawks home games on the radio because they were blacked out on TV back then. I watched a Hawks game here or there. But come playoff time, there were 16 teams to watch, and I fixated on the New York Rangers and their stud young goaltender, Mike Richter. Richter backstopped the Rangers all the way into the Stanley Cup Finals that year, against the Vancouver Canucks and their young star, Pavel Bure (pronounced BOOR-ay), also know as the Russian Rocket because of his blazing speed. In Game 4 of the best-of-seven series (which the Rangers led, 2-1), the Canucks were winning, 2-1, when this happened. I still get chills watching that. And I remember it like it was yesterday.
I had already fallen in love with the superb play of Mike Richter throughout the playoffs, but that save right there solidified him as my idol and the Rangers as my team. I wanted to play real hockey, ice hockey. But that day would come much later.
The Rangers went on to win that game and then eventually the series (which went the distance to the seventh game), winning the Stanley Cup for the first time since 1940.
I remember when I got my first actual helmet. No more Jason mask. No more catcher's mask. It was my own goalie mask. I don't remember what color it was, but I do remember painting over it. A goalie's helmet art is a big statement. I have always been obsessed with wolves. I painted a wolf on a cliff howling at a big moon on either side of the helmet. The moon was at the top of the helmet, so there was a wolf on each side howling at the moon in the middle. I was so proud of it. It was my own artwork and my own staple. I wish I had a picture of it. Who knows? I might have one stashed away somewhere.
Who knew that because no one else had the guts (or wasn't crazy enough) to get shot at, I would fall in love with something so fun and so awesome? And if Santa hadn't given me those sweet Mylec pads, who's to say I'd still be playing to this day? And what if the Rangers and Mike Richter hadn't had a stellar run and captured the Cup in the 1994 NHL playoffs? Would I still be doing what I do and love on the ice to this day? Would I be a Rangers fan?
Funny how things work out sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment