This is “Little Memorial Day” or just go ahead and call it the Sunday Before Memorial Day. Yard sales, boats out on the lake and many graduation parties are happening in my neck of the woods. There’s a sea of American flags every where, and my daughter will twirl her baton in a parade honoring our military, present and past and fallen, tomorrow.
Today, I’m having my own “Memorial” day. A hockey memorial day, if you will.
I’m thinking about my beloved Ohio University, and the hockey program. When I was a student, we took over the back part of the arena, got loud and obnoxious and intimidated visiting teams in a most brutal way. I’m not sure how they run things now, but then, they “imported” players (mostly grad students from Canada, who were well into their 20’s–and had a lifetime of hockey experience) so many of the games were like, you know…a bunch of peasants running from the lions. We loved our hockey team, they were damn near celebrity status, and we could count on not only a win, but most likely a blow-out situation. We drank beer even if it wasn’t allowed in the arena and had pizzas delivered between periods.
Did I say we were brutal to the other teams? Imagine being an almost-18 year old kid, playing goalie against a bunch of nearly 30 year old Canadian men? The score of this particular game was more like a football game gone awry. This poor kid in the net was done for from the start. When he did manage to stop one or it was a lucky deflection or something, the crowd went nuts with sarcastic cheering…
Over all the noise, some guy shouted, “You couldn’t stop a beach-ball!” and the crowd went stupid-crazy with laughter and continued verbal abuse. The poor net-minder’s shoulders slumped and you could see what was left of his spirit had been successfully and absolutely…destroyed.
Well, karma (and hockey karma being what it is…) has a way of rolling around. Fast-forward many years ahead to now. I have a little hockey player of my own. And where does my little dude want to be on that ice? The Net. And even at 6, every puck that gets past this baby in gear, I just cringe and die along with him. Every pile up in front of that net, every hit he takes…I’m feelin’ it in those stands.
No matter how good he is, he’s gonna have days like this poor kid we brutalized at OU. Even the best of the best in the NHL have these days.
Yeah, memories. Now, they call that specific area we used to take over the “Gang Green” area, and they’ve reserved the seats, charged for them and panted them cool colors. What a great idea…we mobilized for free in my day, but ya know..just sayin’. It doesn’t really surprise me that hockey grew that huge and popular at OU. The spirit gear is fantastic and I can’t wait to take my little dude to an OU hockey game this fall.
…And if a goalie is being brutalized, I will mind my manners. Hockey karma, you know.
Happy Little Memorial Day, folks. Enjoy your day, eat a hot dog and pray for regulation hockey season.
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