A history of hockey

We took Callum to his first hockey game on Saturday night--Winslow was playing Presque Isle (wayyyyyyyyy up in the county) for the Eastern Maine Class B title. They lost, 3-2. but it was a great game, and Callum had mixed emotions about it. FIrst of all, for the first 20 minutes he thought it was football, but then he realized the differences. He actually likes hockey, as we have been watching all the Olympic games. Being UNH alumni, Amanda and I, of course, absolutely LOVE hockey....and absolutely nothing beats LIVE hockey. It is a really neat, completely messy sport...and what I love is how every goal looks like it was a complete accident. But I love the aggressive nature of it, and I love how everyone always seems to play with lots of heart (it is hard to play WITHOUT a lot of passion....you kind of stand out like a sore thumb).

He really got a kick out of the Zamboni. Also, he loved the pep band. And he loved the cheering and clapping. He did a lot of that.
Watching intently, waiting for a cool "check" to come our way by the boards....
I, myself, have never played organized hockey, but, interestingly enough, I have four distinct memories of hockey impacting my life in very significant ways.

The first would be when my mom and dad signed me up for ice skating lessons at ASIAF rink at Brockton high school. I remember thinking I was so cool because I got a neat white "CCM" helmet, and I used to use it to dress up and play "Ghostbusters." That was the most fun I would ever had with that helmet. My first ice skating lesson was a beautiful teachable moment in failure for me. I sucked. My dad just reminded me of this this morning, actually. I remember stepping out onto the ice and then immediately falling. Hard. Then, I got up, and tried again. I fell. I dont think I ever made it out to the group "starting" the lesson. Thus, they began without me, and I think I went home, only to play more ghostbusters, and not revisit ice skates until years later, when I skated on Surry Pond in back of my cousin Brian's house in Plymouth. My first lesson in failure. Very important.

My second memory would have to be street hockey. I grew up playing street hockey with my buddies--Johnny, Jay, Mike Gryniuk, Mike Good, Torey, etc. We'd either play in the cul-de-sac known as "Pulsini's Circle" over by Jay's (if it was an away game), or over at the cul-de-sac at the end of Hilltop Drive in "Rolling Pine Estates" over by Johnny Crockett's house. Those were home games. My dad and stepfather used to talk about growing up playing stickball all day. Well, someday, I think I'll tell Callum about all the street hockey I played. The thing that was funny about street hockey is all my buddies had the expensive "Roller Blades".....the real ones. And my career started (by my own choice, I might add) with a pair of roller skates I picked up at Building 19 (like a Mardens...for all you Maine folks). I freakin LOVED those roller skates! Johnny C and I used to go tearing it up at Highland Heights on Fridays with our skates. Boy oh boy did I get ripped on for wearing those darn skates. I eventually got "fauxler blades" (I just came up with that...pretty good, huh?) because the real "Lightning"ones were too expensive. But it didnt matter because I sucked just as bad on those. This was my first lesson at not giving in to peer pressure! haha

I mentioned the UNH games earlier, and that was my third experience. Not much to add about that, except that some of my fondest memories of college revolve around UNH hockey games....or "get-togethers" AFTER UNH hockey games. So much fun. So much spirit. One of the long standing traditions of UNH was that after UNH scored their first goal, a disciplinary disbanded fraternity (Zeta Xi) used to throw a WHOLE 30+ pound Monkfish onto the ice. Then, the zamboni driver would pick up the fish, hold it up in victory to the crowd, we'd all cheer, and THEN the PA announcer would read the disclaimer about throwing things onto the ice. Every game started with the lights off in the Whittemore Center, and then the Wildcats skating out to the beginning of the Dave Matthews Band song "Two Step." It is a song that always reminds me of my hockey days.

Finally, there is the one and only Bruins game I ever went to. And the reason I got to go is because my all time favorite Bruin GAVE me tickets to go see him. Cam Neely. Cam Neely's parents were both treated for cancer at New England Medical Center, and Cam felt a very deep connection to NEMC. He gave a lot of his time (and money) to the hospital, starting "the Neely House," which is a hospice sort of place for families from far away. He used to walk the halls of "7West" (the kid's cancer ward) visiting patients young and old. Including me. He and his brother had season tickets to the Boston Bruins. His brother lived in Canada, and he could never go (on account of the small detail that he had to play). So, instead, he used to give them to kids. I got to go after a particularly bad day of treatment, and it was so awesome to be at my first Bruin's game. I went with Bob, and I remember it specifically because we both felt like death warmed over that night. He had just had his knee replaced, and was cringing in agony at the small amount of leg room we got in our seats. I, on the other hand, was trying hard all night not to throw up. Ultimately, we both succeeded in making it through the game, and we had a great time. It was a very memorable night for me, and I'll forever be a Cam Neely fan.

If you made it through this entire post, then thanks for reading. I know I can get a little wordy. It is just that I like to reminisce sometimes....(well, all the time!)