AJC > Sports Thrashers > Blog > Archives > 2006 > September > 26
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
A frozen moment
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Enough about the Thrashers; let’s talk about me.
In case you haven’t caught the news scroll on espn in the past few hours, yes, I did score today at sticktime. Hard low shot, on the ice, from between the circles about five feet from the blue line. It managed to avoid three or four sets of skates on the way in, then sneaked between the goalie’s right skate and the post. I acted typically nonchalant for a pickup game goal, but on the inside, I was riding my stick like Tiger Williams. I was walking on my toes like John Tonelli. I was Bobby Orr flying through the air.
Let’s face it: There is no feeling quite like scoring a goal in hockey. It’s the best. I mean, I’ve had pie and coffee at Perkins; I’ve stood in front of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre; and I’ve hit a walk-off grand slam in a media league softball game.
I’ve been to the fair, and I’ve seen the bear, all right?
I’ve stood at the northwestern-most and southeastern-most points of the continental United States. I’ve been to the top of the Statue of Liberty, the St. Louis Arch and the Eiffel Tower. I’ve heard Bob Dylan sing “Tangled Up in Blue,” Bruce Springsteen sing “Thunder Road” and the Grateful Dead sing “Truckin’.”
It all seems to pale in comparison to scoring a lucky goal in a pickup hockey game in suburban Atlanta on a Tuesday afternoon.
I am the Per Svartvadet of pickup hockey, easily the worst player on the ice at any given moment. But I enjoy the exercise, the physicality and the comradarie. I like the fact that guys who played in high school, or maybe even college, can share the ice with 60-something guys with softened Boston accents and a skating glide that can be best compared to Arnold Palmer’s golf swing. They even share the ice with a no-talent hack like me, the guy always a step behind, out of position and about 12 seconds from hacking up a lung right there on the ice. Not only that, but every now and again in the rarist of inspired moments, a no-talent hack like me can make a play, almost as if he meant to, and get one into the net. Kind of like Patrik Stefan.
That’s a cheap shot, I know. But then again, so was my goal today. And I still enjoyed it.
Nine days till opening day.
