Street Hockey
This post will be a dumping grounds for any and all stories of the amateur sporting mahem that is, has been, and will continue to be street hockey. In no particular order:
The first night ever of street hockey was some bored high school weekend night, as I remember. We went to Galyans on a whim (where were the various women that night? Did they come with us? Were we that hot and sexy that they would follow us into a sporting goods store? Possibly.) and bought sticks, a ball, and a crappy little goal made from 1" aluminum piping. We ended up playing half-court behind PV Elementary in possibly the rain and definitely poor lighting conditions.
Lou had a non-crappy hockey goal that he added to the equation, but the real joy didn't start until Lou's dad's barn burned down and we were able to make ridiculous (but completely true, counselor) claims as to the quality and quantity of the hockey equipment that had been fatally stored in said barn. The result was a bunch of nice sticks and two very solid goals which live on today.
The parking lot at St. Al's was a choice early location, back in the days when we could actually run well enough to survive on the relatively large playing area. It was Ty, I think, who began the practice of randomly halving the tiny pine trees surrounding the field, using his hockey stick as the implement of death. Ty, why did you hate those trees? I have got to stop by and if any of the poor bastards made it to adulthood. I will also blame the invention of the "if there is a snowbank, you may check the opposing player into it" rule on Ty. He is a violent, violent person.
At Erik's bachelor party, I got tangled up with Adam and he went down headfirst, at full speed. It is agreed that Adam is the single most accident-prone person ever born, ever. Who the hell falls and lands on their forehead? It was some combination of the speed and the entanglement (my hockey stick in his armpit, his foot on his own stick, or something), but he came out of it with a war wound. Someone's t-shirt was sacrificed to staunch the bleeding, and Adam was taken to the ER, where he presented his frequent flyer card and was given a complimentary upgrade to first class. Who waited for him at the hospital? How many stitches were there? Did he manage to attribute the accident to his bad luck and that street hockey was clearly out to get him? Oh, and now I remember (see, this is why we are telling these stories) that Adam's unpleasant significant other at the time came down to pick him up and take him home. As I recall, she was pissed for some reason, and didn't actually enter Lou's apartment at all, standing impatiently outside the door while Adam gathered up his stuff. The moment they left there was one of those classic guy moments, where in the first four seconds of silence after the door closes every single person in the room is thinking "What a bitch!" but it's boys weekeend and you don't want to shit on the guy who just left with a head wound, plus, if somebody says something she'll probably hear it from the parking lot and then it will just be awkward for the rest of their relationship. As it turned out, it was awkward for the rest of their relationship anyway, but that couldn't be helped. Right. Street Hockey was the topic, wasn't it? Oh well.
-Tyler
The first night ever of street hockey was some bored high school weekend night, as I remember. We went to Galyans on a whim (where were the various women that night? Did they come with us? Were we that hot and sexy that they would follow us into a sporting goods store? Possibly.) and bought sticks, a ball, and a crappy little goal made from 1" aluminum piping. We ended up playing half-court behind PV Elementary in possibly the rain and definitely poor lighting conditions.
Lou had a non-crappy hockey goal that he added to the equation, but the real joy didn't start until Lou's dad's barn burned down and we were able to make ridiculous (but completely true, counselor) claims as to the quality and quantity of the hockey equipment that had been fatally stored in said barn. The result was a bunch of nice sticks and two very solid goals which live on today.
The parking lot at St. Al's was a choice early location, back in the days when we could actually run well enough to survive on the relatively large playing area. It was Ty, I think, who began the practice of randomly halving the tiny pine trees surrounding the field, using his hockey stick as the implement of death. Ty, why did you hate those trees? I have got to stop by and if any of the poor bastards made it to adulthood. I will also blame the invention of the "if there is a snowbank, you may check the opposing player into it" rule on Ty. He is a violent, violent person.
At Erik's bachelor party, I got tangled up with Adam and he went down headfirst, at full speed. It is agreed that Adam is the single most accident-prone person ever born, ever. Who the hell falls and lands on their forehead? It was some combination of the speed and the entanglement (my hockey stick in his armpit, his foot on his own stick, or something), but he came out of it with a war wound. Someone's t-shirt was sacrificed to staunch the bleeding, and Adam was taken to the ER, where he presented his frequent flyer card and was given a complimentary upgrade to first class. Who waited for him at the hospital? How many stitches were there? Did he manage to attribute the accident to his bad luck and that street hockey was clearly out to get him? Oh, and now I remember (see, this is why we are telling these stories) that Adam's unpleasant significant other at the time came down to pick him up and take him home. As I recall, she was pissed for some reason, and didn't actually enter Lou's apartment at all, standing impatiently outside the door while Adam gathered up his stuff. The moment they left there was one of those classic guy moments, where in the first four seconds of silence after the door closes every single person in the room is thinking "What a bitch!" but it's boys weekeend and you don't want to shit on the guy who just left with a head wound, plus, if somebody says something she'll probably hear it from the parking lot and then it will just be awkward for the rest of their relationship. As it turned out, it was awkward for the rest of their relationship anyway, but that couldn't be helped. Right. Street Hockey was the topic, wasn't it? Oh well.
-Tyler
posted by Tyler at 9:47 PM
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