In previous editions of this column, I introduced readers to my brief career as a beer league hockey player. To catch you up in three short paragraphs:
I’m entering my fourth season of adult league hockey in suburban Denver. I’m the captain of a team called Blucifer’s Devils (the B’Devils for short) in my local rink’s D3 league, which is the lowest level of play they offer. In the more than 60 games I’ve played with the B’Devils to this point, I have not scored a single goal. None. Nada. Nothing.
Through this column I have publicly vowed to overcome what can only be described as my allergy to the net and score a goal before the season ends in March. I’m trying to do this against the backdrop of a lifetime of athletic ineptitude and in the process, maybe learn a little about life.
Related: Beer League Chronicle: In Search of a Goal, Week 1
The B’Devils lost the first two games of the season; the closest I came to scoring in either contest was a deflection on my own goal. Happily, Danny, our goalie is a better netminder than I am a skater, and the puck did not go in.
Consider yourself caught up.
B’Devils Lose in Weeks 3, 4, and 5
We entered week three 0-2 and were facing the Pickleheads, the class of the D3 division. (As of this writing, they are 6-0.) I played left wing in the game and had a couple of shots on goal, but nothing to write home about. We were out-skated, losing the game 6-2. We were now 0-3, and I was still searching for that elusive first goal.
I missed the game in week four as I was on a business trip to New York City (I was attending New York Comic Con, and yes, it was work). Even though we have 14 rostered players (including Danny the goalie), only seven players (including Danny the goalie) made it to the game. If you’re doing the math in your head, yes, we had only one player on the bench.
My teammates actually got out of the blocks quickly, scoring the first two goals of the game. Maybe if more of us had shown up, we could have notched our first win. But 10 PM start times are famous for having a short bench, and you can only do so much to overcome a lack of personnel. Our opponents, the Blue Demons, had more skaters than we did, and they outlasted us. To hear my teammates tell it, there were shifts, especially on defense, that lasted for almost an entire period. That’s just not sustainable. We lost 8-3.
Home from a successful trip to New York, I was back on skates for the week-five start. We were missing one of our regular defenders, so I started myself at left D. When the first period ended, and we were down 5-0, I admitted what everyone else knew. I cannot and should not ever, play defense. So, I moved to right wing for the start of the second period.
While we lost the game 7-1 (that’s right, they only scored two more goals after we put a more competent skater on the blue line), I did have one high-percentage scoring chance as I found myself with the puck on my stick 15 feet in front of the net. I managed to let a quick wrist shot fly, but it was right into the breadbasket of the opposing goaltender. We lost 7-1, and once again, I did not score.
Lunch League
Something new for me this season, I’m also skating in a lunch league. It’s an over-50 co-ed league (men over 50, women over 40), and is played at a more leisurely pace than the beer league. There is one ref (rather than two), there are no penalties (only penalty shots), and music plays throughout. It kind of feels like a professional lacrosse game at half-speed.
The truth is, the lunch league is much more suited to my limited abilities. While I’m far from the best player there, I’m not an outright liability either (note I said “outright”). I can skate the length of the ice with the puck without the feeling of some 22-year-old, who probably played collegiate hockey, breathing down my neck. The hope is that this second touch each week will help my overall game, and help in the beer league.
This past Thursday (Oct. 20) I had two primary assists in the lunch league. Each was a deliberate and well-executed pass to my center, who made a winning shot. Maybe, I thought, this was a sign of things to come.
Week 6, He Shoots, He Scores
With seven teams in the beer league, week six had us scheduled to play the only other winless team in the league. They’re similar to what our club was when we first started. A lot of guts, and a lot of grit, but still learning to play as a team, and learning the ins and outs of organized hockey.
The goalie for our opponent was a player named Kenny who was an OG member of Blucifer’s Devils. Like many people drawn to hockey, Kenny brings intensity to everything he does in life. Whether he’s skating out on defense (as he does for another team in the league) or playing between the pipes, he leaves everything on the ice.
Combine that with a personality unique to goaltenders (and maybe Major League Baseball closers), and Kenny is both fun, and depending on the night, maddening to play against. He’s also become a good friend over the years, so games against him always have a little added zest.
The B-Devils were out of the gate quickly, scoring in the first five minutes of the game. We never looked back. I had two stellar chances in the game. In the second period, I grabbed a loose puck on the right side of the crease. Kenny had just made a save on the other side and was out of position. I chipped the puck up, but Kenny reached out with his glove to deny me. The second chance was a weak shot from the high slot which missed the net altogether. Lame. So lame.
At one point, a rebound came Kenny’s way and I was barreling down on him. He waited until the last second to cover, smirking at me when he did. “Don’t mess with me,” I said. “I am messing with you,” he replied. (We didn’t say “messing.” I’ll leave it to your imagination to fill in the blank.)
Alex, the B’Devils alternate captain, a stalwart defender, and a friend, came up to me between the second and third periods. By this time, the game was firmly in hand. “Just get yourself open in front of the net. We’re going to get you that goal.”
If I’m being honest, I didn’t really want a goal that way, spoon-fed to me like a baby. Something about it just felt wrong. But Alex was determined. I can’t say I blame him.
Throughout the third period, Alex, David (normally a forward but playing D), and Stephen (my linemate) all tried to set me up. It wasn’t working.
Then, with a minute left on the clock…I…um…to be honest, the next 10 seconds are something of a blur. I think Alex got behind the net and fed me the puck in traffic. I whacked at it once, Kenny made a save, and then I collected my own rebound and basically shoved it home. Or maybe Alex took a shot from the point and it bounced off my stick and went in. Or maybe he handed me the biscuit and I threw it in.
It’s funny how we remember the things in life that don’t work. The bad beat in poker (busted out of a tournament with a made flush crushed by a lucky four-of-a-kind on the river), the rejection letter from a publisher, the shot that didn’t go in, all those failures are seared more permanently into our brains than the things that went right.
Whatever actually happened, I can confirm it was a cheap goal in garbage time. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. The puck crossed the goal line. It went in off my stick, deliberately, and it counted. I went up to the ref after the game just to make sure I got the credit. (I asked Kenny if he let me have it, but he promises he did not. I’m going to choose to believe him.)
So how did it feel finally scoring a goal after all this time? Honestly, the overwhelming emotion was relief. Now I don’t have to worry about it for another four years.
A special thanks to Alex for making the goal happen, and to all of my teammates (including Kenny) who have stood by me over these many seasons, waiting for me to finally get off the schneid.
