Bonding?

"What in the name of God am I doing?" I have sore feet, my knees hurt, my confidence is low and not only that I have never even touched a hockey stick. I seem to be engaged in this freaky internal dialogue that keeps on telling me that in a couple of weeks I will have just enough ability to play for the company team and not kill myself or anyone else. Damn those nice mild mannered polite co-workers who convinced me that this was a good idea! Damn you all to hell. But there was no going back, I had to struggle on, I joined the team and my reputation was at stake. This was challenging my personal creed that if you say you are going to do something, do it. What a dilema I got myself into.

I had visions of me playing hockey and being shunned by the team for being a useless fool, the other players would skate around me and laugh at the newbie "hey newbie you're new, newbie, hmmmm, can you skate, hhhmmm, had any lessons, hhmmm" (said with a Stewie Griffin voice) . There was only one thing for it, I needed to ask for help. As there is no shortage of hockey enthusiasts (hockey nuts to be exact, let's just be clear, a hockey fan is like nothing I have ever encoutered before, they watch, eat sleep, play and consume the game) so at work I sent out a 'skating SOS'. The first man to take up the gauntlet was 'The Guru', a fun guy with a smile and a wink who is always fun at parties. This is the guy who knows more hockey statistics than Don Cherry (very egocentric old hockey dude) and laughs harder than Buddah.

When we arrived at the rink, things were going slowly and I was eager for my first skating lesson, 'The Guru' needed the right fit of skates and was taking his time tieing his laces. Chomping at the bit I headed up stairs and out on to the ice. Eventually 'The Guru' showed up and met me on the ice. We skated like men do, around for a while in relative ignorance and avoiding the obvious issue that we both needed lessons. Nevertheless I was undetered and enjoyed my skating experience with my very accomodating work colleague. But I still needed lessons, I need to learn how to do the cool slidey stop things and turning, and skating backwards (yes I wanted to sprint before I could walk), I was in luck though because there was one offer I could not refuse. I was going to have a lesson with 'The Last King of Scotland'.

Thomas James Stewart is a half Scottish Persian (sounds like a kind of rug!), he speaks great French, Farsi and English, and he is a Stewart (the surname of the Scottish Royalty), first in line to the throne of Scotland (not really but it sounds good). This was the man for the job, my coach, my teacher, my King. He was going to help me regain some dignity and self respect and he was doing it for free, which is a total bonus for a Scotsman as we are well renowned for being so tight that when we drop a coin it hits us on the back of the head. Anyway, one day after work, "TJ" (Thomas) managed to get some skates and offered his services. Brimming with excitement and nerves we navigated the gauntlet that are the streets of Montreal (or Rues) and headed to the Gauche Rink. I would like to point out that "TJ" chose to remain in his work clothing for my skating lesson, in a nut shell, he was dressed in a suit and not his jeans, thankfully he was not wearing his white ostrich skin shoes (the kind my GF would never let me wear!). What a sight to behold I can tell you, but not uncommon down at the rink.

And so we began. First "TJ" assessed my skills and then set to work on showing me some new techniques. The first obvious skill I wanted to learn, apart from not falling down, was how to do the cross over thingy. "TJ" was very concice with his instruction and I began to practice, practice, practice. It's not an easy thing to do for a novice skater but with "TJ's" patience I was starting to get the hang of it. The next step on the road the NHL draft was to learn how to skate backwards, this I was not looking forward to. People make it look so easy and I suppose in principle it is easy but the risk of knocking yourself out on the ice is about 90%. I should point out that since my first fall, the fear of hitting the ice was engraved in my mind, so to ensure my own survival and to avoid a lengthy court battle between my family and the owners of the rink, should I have injured myself, I decided that wearing my cycling helmet was a very sensible option. I did not look cool and I was not concerned about looking cool, the main thing was to live.

Back to skating backwards, this was one of those intimate moments that happen between two men, special moments never to be shared with anyone. But hey I am in the mood for sharing! At the side of the rink we "touched". "TJ" grasped by arms with a delicate but firm grasp and issued his instructions (no pressure) about balance and stability and my centre of gravity. Slowly I started to glide backwards, if I had hair I would have felt the wind flow right through it (credited to the GF for that line, oh yes we laughed - hard), it was happening, I was going backwards! But then I stopped and fumbled and though it better to focus on skating forwards first, after all I was going to be puck fodder. By the end of the lesson "TJ's" shirt looked like someone hit him with a fire hose, man this boy sweats more than a horse at a glue factory (joke credited to "The Guru"). The lesson was great though and "TJ" is a fine teacher so if you want a lesson just look for a white BMW with smoke coming from the tyres.

So with my skating back on track it was time to challenge yet other obvious hurdle that was in the way of my getting drafted to the NHL, I needed to learn "the rules". And lucky old me the right man for the job made the right kind of offer (during lunch time, just in case anyone gets any funny ideas). There is not a lot that "The Main Man" does not know about hockey, so I was in good hands. Armed with a pen and paper and marching to the staff lunch room I was eager to learn from this wisest of master. But "The Main Man" has one flaw, he is a fan of the Boston Bruins, but we don't talk about that as this is a "I know nothing about hockey but I will support the Canadiens because I live in Montreal, blog type thingy". So all manner of talk about the Bruins had to be curbed during my lesson about the rules, it was best for the both of us.

So what did I understand about the rules? Well there are six player on the team, x2 defence, x3 forwards and a goalie. There are 5 lines and each one has a purpose, since I am a newbie, the line to pay attention to is the blue line (eazy peezy lemon squeezy). When heading down to the opposing team's net, the puck must cross the line first before the player. There is also this place called the neutral zone but I don't know why it's so neutral because they fight there as well.

There are also 3 periods, the duration depends on the league, since I would be playing in the NHL soon this was something I had to pay attention to. Then there is something called 'icing' not to be confused with the sweet yummy stuff found on cakes, no, icing happens when you whallop the puck from your halfway line and it travels, without hitting another player, past the opposing teams goal line. The penalty for icing is a penalty, which is 2 minutes in the penalty box (The Main Man has a special seat at the rink with his name carved into the bench, he did this with the broken tooth from another player that chose to hustle our goalie Dave out of beer, but that's old news). If a player finds themselves in the penalty box the opposing team has an advantage, this is called a 'power play' in French it is called a 'we have more people on the ice so therefore our chance of scoring is higher'. There is also the offside rule but that's a whole other blog, just like the footie back home the offside rule can baffle the most learn'ed man so it was not too hard to confuse me. As you can see "The Main Man" had done a great job teaching me the rules, but there was one thing he forgot to tell me, hockey is a bit rough and "The Main Man" likes it rough. So I am told - "The Main Man" has bigger brothers so when he learned to play hockey he could not let the big boys beat on him. But alas now every time he holds a stick and puts on his helmet everyone becomes a 'big boy' so Paul changes from the nice as pie work colleague to "Mr. Your Card is Marked and I am taking you down". Of course not wishing to offend "The Main Man" and very thankful for his tuition I though it only polite that I keep his infractions down to a minimum. We won't mention the jail time, warrants, bans, hospitalizations, near death experiences or federal injunctions that prevent him from playing in most civilized societies.

Next time I will break the news about watching my first game of hockey on TV and how EA sports really does "challenge everything".

It's How We Roll

After the initial adulation of purchasing my skates wore off I considered, with a degree dread, that learning to ice skate has its up and downs. But thankfully I was not the only proverbial 'newbie' in the boat, oh no, I was sharing the boat with another. Which to the novice ice hockey/ice skater can calm the nerves a bit. I had a skating buddy for my first time skating in Canada (were babies are actually born with 'Wolverine' like blades on their feet), Oh yes, let's make no mistake I was in the dragons den, the demons lair, the Jedi temple, everyone is Canada is a skating God. I have seen them with my own eyes during my trials and tribulations at the rink. Parents, those responsible forebear's of compassion, education and love, take their barely walking offspring to 'an ice rink' and instruct the child in the art of skating. The Canadians are made for winter sports, just have a look at this very funky ad promoting "The Bay's" Winter Olympic clothing line and you will get what I am talking about. A strange juxtaposition that a people with so much warmth have so much passion for snow and ice and also their country does not grind to a halt every time a snow flake touches a railway track, unlike the UK.

So I had a "buddy" to share in my first tentative steps out there on the ice with, and not just your normal skating buddy, no, I had "Sal" from the IT department at work."Sal (Salaheddin)" shares his name with a very famous Muslim historical figure, Salaheddin the liberator of Jerusalem and smiter of the infidel hordes. And I witnessed first hand the power of this most noble name as "Sal" smited some dude when he played him online at PES Pro Evolution Soccer, very impressive. Anyway Sal claimed that he had not skated for a number of years, which made me feel okay because if fools we shall be then fools we shall be together! But to my shock and awe, his most modest claim was far from the truth, no, the fact is that Sal was very comfortable and graceful on his skates were as I looked about as comfortable as a walrus on a tight rope. With my confidence in tatters there was only one thing that I could do to salvage what little dignity I had left, "don't fall". But this was not to be the case, fate was about to deal me a fatal blow. In a nut shell, I ended up on my arse, but only once. Having skated around a few time I was really starting to like this whole "skating" thing, I felt more "Canadian". I felt that the I could call a moose out from the wilds or even say "aboooot" like one of the natives, I had Molson X running through my vein and nothing would stop me, NHL here I come. So with my mind firmly wrapped in delusion I was paying little or no attention to where my feet were and in an attempt to slightly shift direction I crossed my blades and "voila". I end up in a rather ungraceful heap on the ice. That was it, the deal was done, in my mind I had failed, totally failed. I fell, I had no dignity and no self respect, kind of like your dad when he confidently steps on your skateboard and proclaims "watch this son" (a sight which I have seen first hand, although without the proclamation.)

With arse on ice I was stuck by an obvious fact, I was getting too old for this and the whole "You've bitten off way more than you can chew" ghost slapped me in the face as a 4 year old child skated passed me giving me a look of sympathy. Thinking about it now I can only imagine the conversation that this child had with their parent during their drive back home, "mummy/daddy why was that man lying on the ice looking sad?" and the parent replies "That's what happens when your imagination far out weighs your ability." And the moral of the story, if first you don't succeed, make sure you do it again in private!

But being a plucky Brit and brainless Scot I could not let this get me down, so with Mel Gibson`s historically "Freedom" speech from Braveheart (which was filmed in Ireland and featured an Aussie lead actor who sported the worst Scottish accent in cinema history), ringing in my ears, I thought to myself, no, I have to do this.

Did I mention that several months prior to my decision to join the company hockey team "I had a dream", much like Rev Martin Luther King, that I scored a goal playing ice hockey wearing a Montreal Canadien's jersey (and for the GF's dad, yes I had other clothes on and not just the jersey!) A somewhat deluded dream but I felt amazing, it felt like Rockey beating Ivan Drago in Rockey 4 to the fanfare of the theme tune playing in the background.

I totally forgot to mention that "the rink (1000 De la Gauchetiere" where I practice is only 10 minutes walk from where I work in downtown Montreal and not only that it is slap bang in the middle of a high rise business type building. And this can be rather intimidating as people peer over the barrier from the food court or from the balcony above the rink. The last thing one wants is to skate head first into a full on dignity stripping moment in front of a crowd.

And being Montreal where anything goes, the walk to the rink is like watching death race 2000 all up close and personal. The folks here drive like absolute psychos and it's a wonder that there is anyone left in the city to actually drive.

My next post is a rather royal affair as I get a skating lesson from the last king of Scotland, and not only that, remember the dude from the first post who is nice as pie in the office and turns into a total loon on the ice? Well during lunch this fine man teaches me "the rules of ice hockey". And it is then that I learn my second lesson about ice hockey, "it's a bit rough".

Keep cool!