God Forgive Me for I Know Not What I'm Doing

As a passive individual with little or no tolerance for sport, or sporting experience of any kind; one could be forgiven for engaging in a scratch of the head and asking exactly why this none lover of sport would even consider entertaining the thought that he could actually play ice hockey. (Or just plain old Hockey to the natives) I should also point out that this is the guy that cried in his grannies arms when he came last in the 50 meter sprint after his first ever sports day. Since then me and sport have never seen eye to eye!

For the uninitiated ice hockey is a game played on a big slab of indoor ice called a rink where 6 individuals, including a goalie (goal keeper) put on ice skates and attempt to score goals in a net that could be best described as nothing more than an oversized fishnet cod piece or (Jock strap). The object of interest that is used to score the said goal is called "a Puck". The puck is about the size of a coaster and about an inch high made from black hard rubber. Please take note as this will make more sense when we look at the role of the goalie and his attempts to stop the said hard black rubber puck often projected at high speed. The speed renders the puck lethal to the unpadded. The game is played at break neck speed, which is unlikely that I will ever achieve, and each player roughly spends about 2-3 minutes on the ice where they chase the small black hard rubber puck with a stick and loose about half their body weight in fluid covered in a variety of pads and armor. All for about 40 minutes.

Despite being a non lover of sport I am aware that if aroused into a state of frenzy hockey players are allowed to remove several parts of their armor and proceed to wage war on the face of the opponent that has aroused their anger. In fact hockey teams have specific players that are encouraged to harass, intimidate and bully other players. There are two types, of which I have just been informed, which are called "agitator" and "enforcers". Agitators agitate, they basically attempt to piss other players off to such a degree that the other player snaps and engages in knuckle based dialogue, (in English "I am not very happy with you"). I believe there is a guy on our team, who will remain nameless until I get legal permission to use his name or to tell tales of his less than passive playing style, who not unlike the incredible hulk goes through such an extreme transformation it leaves many of his fellow team members utterly perplexed as to why their mild mannered co-worker becomes such a loon (for the Canadian reader a loon in this instance does not refer to the much loved bird that appears on the one dollar coin, no, in Scotland a "loon" is a lunatic, nutter, psycho or head case that is to be avoided at all costs, you may even use the term fruit cake which is my personal favorite!). And all this happens when he suits up and holds a stick.

As I mentioned earlier I guess it is only fair to point out that, my entertaining the thought that I could actually play ice hockey, is based on one thing, I decided to join the company hockey team. Whether or not I would consider this a foolish choice has still yet to be determined. The motivation behind my choice was not that high brow; it was not to get fitter or to improve my hand eye coordination or bond with my co worker, far from it. What motivated me was the fact that despite having no skating skills what so ever, never mind good enough to play ice hockey, or the fact that I do not know the rules, or the fact that I have no skates, armor or helmet (hockey gear) my fellow work colleagues are utterly unforgiving with their support and encouragement "Who cares if you can't skate", they cry "join the team!". So with that much milk and honey being poured in my ears how could I resist! As it happens new players with little or no experience, like my good self, join the company ice hockey team (hockey) and have a great time. Even without the after game beer.

So stage one of my ice hockey emersion processes (mission) is to learn to skate or at least to prevent myself from hitting my baldy head on the ice and causing cranial based damage, which has happened many times before, much to the distress of my poor mother.

Next time I will recall the amusing story of when I purchased my first pair of ice skates and when I saw a three year old skate with more composure and dignity than a 37 year old Scot with nothing more than handful for tentative enthusiasm.