Author: admin

Remember The Royals

…There was stunned silence throughout the arena. The Royal’s star couldn’t believe what he was seeing. From his perspective all he saw was an open net with a large blob like mass crouched, kneeling and blubbering behind the net. He stopped, looked around as if he was not quite sure on what to do.  He shook his head a few times as if in comical disgust then sauntered every so slowly down to the goal’s crease and tapped the puck, gingerly, into the net. All of a sudden laughter broke out from the fans. The players on both benches banged their sticks against the boards screaming and hollering in their amazement.  The referee and linemen raced toward the net expecting some sort of scuffle between the Royal’s player and McDink.  McDink seemed to be in total shock and awe and scared shitless to render himself almost comatose. I was told later they had to pry him away from the backside of the goal. They couldn’t get him up. He was a blabbering, blubbering nincompoop.  I do believe, though I can’t be entirely sure of this, that he pissed himself and soiled his shorts.  In due course they had to carry him off the ice. The game was over. 

But before all of that happened, Art skated up to McDink and in a loud, sarcastic but assertive voice told McDink in no uncertain terms:

“Remember the Royals”

And he did, and we did, for years to come.

Shakin All Over

…We let him be.  Like Moses parting the Red Sea we opened up a lane for him by moving backwards toward the boards on both sides of the ice surface. He had a clear and straight path to our goal. The only thing standing between him and hockey glory was McDink. What must McDink be thinking, especially seeing us, his team mates, opening up the lane for the enemy such that there was no impedance between the mammoth and himself? In what seemed to have been a Nano second McDink came out of his net ever so slightly, he looked to his right, then to his left, then straight ahead: his legs, his pads, forming an “A” shaped five hole that a Mack Truck could have driven through.

The fans were going nuts. The rafters seemed to be shaking. The ice melting, smokin, due to the friction and fire coming from the blades of the Royal’s star player as he was crossed centre ice in a blur. After a split second of assessment, analysis of the situation and determination McDink made his decision.   He turned to his left, then to his right, to his left, to his right, scared, dazed and confused, and then, in another split second in his fullness of time, panicking, he turned left again and ran on his blades to seek the protection of the net. Not inside the net to the back of the crease but the back outside portion of the net itself – BEHIND THE NET. And there he crouched, no kneeled, as if praying to his Lord to protect him, to save him from this terror on ice, shakin all over…

Whoosh

…Finally the referee blew the whistle as a signal for the teams to line up for the face-off and the start of the game. I wasn’t on the ice, second shift for me. Goliath was on his bench as well. Puck drops, the games on.  Confusion and chaos begin as everyone on both sides go for the puck at the same time. No sense of order, teamwork or synergy among the players. No one played positional hockey as there were ten puck hogs out there.  Everyone wanted to score.  Nobody scored.  Next!

Second shift comes out, more of the same. A little better coordination perhaps as both coaches are screaming at the players from the bench. Suddenly, a shot from us. Wide, puck ricochets into their corner.  A Royal defenseman picks it up and slides it over to the opposite side.  Another player fires the puck off the boards and down the ice.  Icing is called.  Line changes, puck is back in the Royal’s end.  Just then their wooly mammoth comes off the bench and takes his place on the right side of the circle. Puck drops; the Royal’s center wins the faceoff and hacks the puck back behind their net.  Suddenly their man gets the puck and skates with it behind their own net and just stands there weighing in on all that surrounds him. The rest of our team begin to skate backwards in rapid succession, some of us lining up on their blue line the rest of us at centre ice.  None of us would even dare to challenge this guy. He was not a normal 12 year old kid at 6 ft tall – with his skates on.  Skinny, lithe, slippery as a snake, one would think that being that tall and that skinny that one could just puff in his direction and down he’d go.  Unfortunately for us he was not the gangly uncoordinated klutz.  Far from it.  

At this moment in time I had no idea what must be going through McDink’s mind.  He surely had to know what was coming his way. He did seem to back up way into his net as if he thought by doing so would offer him some form of protection. Nope. Then out he slides, centre’d in the goalie crease and crouched with blocker and stick out to this left side with his glove hand to his right and arced slightly upward.  McDink did look the part.

The wooly mammoth of a player began to move, slowly at first, then accelerating. He deeked around a couple of his own team mates then turned on an oblique angle across his own goal toward his own blue line.  Faster and faster he went, with every cut of his blades. He leaned his tall frame expertly to his right pulling the puck with him as he went. It was a sight to behold. Then he leaned to his left until he was on a straight trajectory to our goal and our goalie, McDink. The only thing standing in his way was about 4 of us but we were in such a state watching this unfold that we couldn’t move a muscle, not that we would even try. From the centre line where I was standing, looking back at his end with him coming at us full tilt you could see, sense, feel the thrusts of his skates as he came straight for us. Like a rocket – whoosh!. His eyes ablaze, his face contorted as if his every move generated negative “G” forces. Woosh, woosh, woosh, as he flew past his own team mates then past us one by one. It was as if they, we, were standing still.  Crunch, crunch, crunch, the sound of his blades cutting into the ice; leveraging and transferring that potential energy throughout into his entire being…

Delusion

…The whole team was somewhat bemused at what had just been announced and we all looked at McDink at about the same time. The coach smiled and left.  I can’t be certain but I think the blood and colour suddenly left McDink for his face was as pale and as ashen as Lazareth must have been before he was raised from the dead.  There also seemed to be a half smile, or perhaps a side mouthed smirk, that came and went from his countenance as if he was thinking:  “Did I hear that right? Is this really happening to me?”  

In an instant, as if sensing that all eyes were on him, McDink’s bravado returned.

“No problem, no probleemo.  I’ll show that idiot who’s boss here and who can really play this game.  I’ll stop him in his tracks, that’s what I’ll do. Give me those damn pads cause I got a lot of work and preparation to do.  I’ll see you girls next week.” And then he was gone.

The word on the street? In the schoolyard? At home, everywhere? McDink’s going to play goal, against the Royals, next Saturday afternoon.

Everyone will be there. And all week McDink played the part, obnoxiously so.  He was the conceited braggart, a hero in his own mind.  The go to guy, the perfect foil, delusional to the Royal’s all star player.  His attitude was sickeningly objectionable.  Even the Nuns noticed.  He walked with a swagger and cussed and cursed anyone and everyone who he felt was not demonstrating the respect that he deemed he deserved.  Even when he got the strap he smirked as if to say.

“Lay it on Sister. Give me your best shot.”

Finally, the time had arrived. The Royals were already on the ice, warming up. The fans from their school were hootin and a hollerin to no end. Their star was there, totally non descript, almost shy-like as he avoided any spotlight.  He acknowledged his fans as he flicked a few shots at his own goalie but never demonstrating that nuclear missile of a shot of his.  

We came out to loud cheers and hoorays from our fans, but boos and verbal abuse from the Royal’s fans.  Skating around our end in coherency and symmetry and awaiting our star attraction – our goalie. There was some delay for it seemed to take forever before McDink showed up at the transition point between the door and the surface of the ice. He was almost unrecognizable with all of the equipment on.  Not unlike the Pillsbury Dough-Boy, or the Michelin Man.  Like a tortoise’s shell if he ever fell we would never be able to get him up or right him.  Luckily that never occurred.  Yet he had to be cajoled by the coach to get on with it and get out there to our net. 

A short warm-up commenced with McDink in net. Not too bad but then again our hardest shooter’s shot resembled a wet noodle in comparison to the Royal’s star.  He did look the part though. I got to hand it to him as he had an air of confidence and self assurance, cockiness.  Between the warm-up drills he would stand there, leaning back against the net with one arm outstretched across the goal’s crossbar and netting.  As if to say to the Royals – “Fuck off!”

 

Uber Idiot

…McDink as we called him should have been one of those guys who went to Trade School. Somehow he managed to avoid it.  He was, in the vernacular of elementary juveniles, a real dink: rude, obnoxious, a braggart, bull shitter type of guy.  A bully as well, and none too smart about it.  In later years he hand painted his beater of a car a flat black – with oil based paint using a roller and a brush. He thought it was soo cool. He said he wanted his ride to reflect his personality – dark.  Yes dark and stupid.  Stupid, just like old Willie McGillivray who sawed off the top of his 56 Ford because he always wanted to have and to drive a convertible, to impress the ladies as he said.  Unbeknownst to Willie, by cutting off the top half of his car, which was designed as a sedan, he mistakenly undermined the integrity of the upper frame and it collapsed in on itself. The other unintended consequence for Willie were those dark and stormy days and nights in the late summer months where a torrent of rain would come down hard on his unprotected ride flooding through the floorboards, water cascading outward as he drove down the boulevard.  Willie did not have a garage at his house.  At least Willie was a good guy, if somewhat of a simpleton, with a simple mind.   He was a bit older than the rest of us as he also repeatedly repeated some of the lower grades in school. Willie was another lad who ended up in Trade School.  We all liked Willie and had a good laugh at his expense with his automotive skill and innovation.  We hated McDink.

McDink was not at all like Willie. Yes, he was also a simpleton like Willie with a simple mind but was too dumb and simple to realize just what a dink he was. He bullied the younger kids, hit them for no reason whatsoever and tried to impress the older lads and gals with his tales of bravado and misdirected hubris.  He was an uber idiot.

McDink, like all of us, played hockey. He wasn’t that bad but for his bravado and exaggerations, he was useless. He was also super critical of your play if he thought it wasn’t up to par or up to his standards.  In that way he was delusional about his own ability yet relentless in his criticisms of others, especially those lads that he knew he could bully almost to the point of tears.   He did have a way with words but not in a good way. It was in one of those one sided discussions that he had with some of us lads that got him into a position that he couldn’t back out of.

“You useless piece of shit” he cursed at our goalie as our team left the ice for the dressing room after another humiliating defeat against the team with the leviathan who masqueraded as a hockey player. The final score: 22-1!

“You couldn’t stop squat” McDink continued, pestering our goaltender. “My sister has bigger balls than you will ever have”

“I can believe that.” I heard someone say. “Have you seen his sister?”

Laughter all round. McDink wasn’t laughing. His tirade went on.

“You looked and acted like the scrawny weasel you really are out there, you piece of crap”

The goalie was ticked.

“Cut it out” I heard someone say. “You couldn’t do any better against that team…against that player.”

“I didn’t see you try to stop him when you were out there” another quipped.

“Him,” McDink announced. “I’m not afraid of that poor excuse of a hockey player.” He is an uncoordinated luddite. He can hardly skate; his shot sucks and his brains are in his ass. I’d be more afraid of a whiffle ball than that slap shot of his. I could stop anything that he could throw, shoot at me.”

Our coach heard everything and he came out rather suddenly.

“Bruce (McDink). You’ll be in goal next game.”

“No problem coach. Looking forward to it.”  Bruce seemed to proffer hesitantly.

“By the way.” Our coach added. “We have a make up game to play so we’ll be playing the Royals here again next week…”