The Orange Team had played Team Gold as many times as we'd played the Booze Brothers, and I'd stuck around to watch a bit of their games before. The Orange Team was hardly overwhelming, didn't seem to skate as well as the Booze Brothers, and seemed like a worthy opponent for us.
Before the game, one of the smooth skating defensemen from Team Gold was standing around, out with a hurt back, and told us we could handle them.
"Just keep pressure on 'em with the puck, jam 'em in the corners if you have to," he said. "You guys will do fine."
He probably shouldn't go into fortune telling, as he clearly didn't foresee the beating your heroes in teal were about to receive.
Coach Steve was behind our bench, and was breaking us up into lines. I thought I'd be partnered with Speedy as usual, but was instead placed with Eric, a strong skater who I'd done the push and pull drills with a number of times, and Joe, a tall guy like me who was similarly unsteady on his skates, but was improving.
We headed out to start the game, myself playing left wing, Eric in the middle, and Joe on the right. The puck was dropped and the game was underway, and surprisingly enough, we got off to a good start. The puck got dumped in after we won the faceoff, and we forced a turnover in the neutral zone after the Orange guys sent the puck out. I ended up with the puck just inside the blue line after taking an Eric pass, and decided to shoot.
I unleashed my fearsome wrist shot from the slot, and the Orange goalie, shaking in his pads, blocked it into the corner. Not bad: one shift, one shot. Except that as we returned to the bench on a line change, our second unit had somehow given up a goal before we even sat down, and it was 1-0 Orange.
The Orange Team started turning up the pressure on us on our second shift, and we couldn't really do anything. Coach Steve had implored us to keep moving our feet on the forecheck, to keep skating at the guy with the puck, and not wave at it with our stick.
Here's what would happen:
- I'd skate at the guy with the puck, determined to steal it.
- He'd look up, see me coming, take a brief nap, and then get ready to avoid me.
- I'd be very close to stealing it, and then...
- He'd take a stride to either side and go right past me.
- Fin.
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| Unfortunately, I'm the bull in this scenario. |
This theme continued for some time, and we were struggling. Coach Steve said, "KEEP MOVING YOUR FEET! DON'T WAVE AT IT!" He was either blissfully unaware of our struggles, or secretly enjoyed watching us slide past the puck carrier as he sidestepped us like we were minor annoyances.
My line wasn't doing much in the way of applying offensive pressure; instead, we were scrambling around the defensive zone, desperately trying to clear the puck.
I wasn't helping in that regard: on one shift, I failed to clear the puck three times. The first time, it came up the wall and I was engaged with an Orange guy. I managed to get control at first, but he tipped it into my skates. As you know, once the puck is in my skates, it's as good as gone. The next time, I gathered a loose puck and tried to just chip it out; denied at the blue line. Finally, I tried to clear it again after deflecting a puck; no such luck.
I ended up getting a fourth chance, and mercifully was able to not just clear it, but hit Eric in stride and he ended up leading a brief rush up the ice. We changed lines shortly thereafter, and wouldn't you know it, the Orange Team scored again. 2-0 Orange.
And then they scored again. 3-0 Orange, before the end of the first. Ouch.
On my last shift of the first, I finally had a forecheck breakthrough. An Orange defenseman was carrying the puck through the neutral zone, and I had him lined up. I read that he was going to try to make a pass up the left wing, and positioned myself in his path. He attempted the pass, and it glanced off the shaft of my stick and headed back towards the red line.
I scrambled after it, got control, and had a semi-breakaway up the right wing with a 2-on-1 developing...and then the buzzer went off. Period over. Figures: I finally force a turnover and get a developing scoring chance, then the period ends.
I don't think that counts as irony, but it sure felt like rain on my wedding day.
Coach Steve wasn't too down on us, and instead reiterated his forechecking message. His optimism and patience should make him a candidate for sainthood.
Things didn't change much in the second period, but my frustration grew. In on the forecheck early in the second, I put pressure on the puck carrier. He chipped the puck up along the wall, and I peeled off, job done. However, he elected to keep coming and slammed into me, throwing a body check in a no-contact league.
"What the hell," I muttered, though I was unfazed due to being cast of solid marble. Still, being hit when you're not allowed to hit back is frustrating.
What's even more frustrating is when you have a teammate who won't move the puck. I've referred to this teammate before, the one who is the best skater and clearly shouldn't be in the clinic in the first place. I'll refer to this skater as Bobby Orr. Now Bobby Orr never passes, and I should know this by now. But it's still infuriating when it happens.
Case in point: Bobby Orr, playing defense (duh), gets a loose puck behind our net. Time to start a breakout. Our center hangs back, and two wings, myself include, head up ice to make room for an outlet pass. The pass never comes, however, as Bobby Orr prefers to skate around the back of the net, skate up ice, make a few dekes, ignore teammates, carry the puck into the offensive zone, and turn it over behind the net.
This didn't happen just once; rather this played out like "Groundhog Day" and happened EVERY TIME THIS SKATER GOT THE PUCK.
Once, late in the second after a particularly long shift by the Penguin, I got moved to the second line, and skated with Speedy and White Helmet. I was moved to right wing to make shooting easier, and, wouldn't you know it, here comes Bobby Orr. I didn't even try to make myself available for the pass. I took a leisurely stroll up the right wing, stayed on-sides, and let Bobby turn the puck over (again).
After my shift ended, Coach Steve had noticed. "*something inaudible* offsides," he said as I was sitting down.
"There's no use looking for the puck if it's not coming," I mumbled, thinking he said something about doing more than trying to avoid an offsides call.
"Huh?" he said, and I didn't say anything back, fearing he'd heard my insolence.
"Next time, just go offsides," he continued. "After, say [to Bobby Orr], 'sorry, I thought a pass was coming.' I've spoken to [Bobby] about it a bunch of times, apparently it's not getting through."
SWEET MERCY, it's not just me. I felt vindicated.
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| IT'S NOT JUST ME! HALLELUJAH! |
However, any relief I felt quickly vanish on my next shift, as Bobby Orr kept up the antics, this time to an absurd degree. After watching the puck get carried in, I headed to the net. I managed to beat my man to the goal mouth, and was stationed at the top of the crease. The defender was on my back and wasn't getting around me as Bobby Orr swirled into the corner. There was a clear passing lane, and I banged my stick loudly to indicate I was open.
How silly of me to think a pass might come.
Instead, Bobby Orr kept going behind the net, slammed on the brakes, turned back, and tried to score on the NHL94 wraparound play. AMAZINGLY, the puck didn't go in. Weird.
However, I stayed in my spot, and a bouncing rebound came towards me. I took a whack at it, trying to get it past the sprawled out goalie. The puck bounced over my stick, and I was about to take another whack when...whistle.
The goalie, sensing the embarrassment that comes with letting me score, kicked the net off its moorings in desperation. No penalty for delay of game was called, as the refs termed it accidental. That was it for me: being denied a scoring chance by a stupid whistle after being denied a pass while wide open at the top of the crease put me one insult away from becoming Michael Douglas in "Falling Down."
It's a good thing there was no construction on my drive home.
I slammed the bench door shut and kicked the boards, and Speedy said "[Bobby Orr] needs to pass the puck." Preach, Brother Speedy. Preach.
On our next shift, Team Orange scored. Twice. If that wasn't insult enough, I somehow managed to check my teammate. SCORE.
White Helmet was rushing the puck through the neutral zone, and I saw him coming. I tried to skate across the blue line to avoid him, as I saw he wasn't looking up, so I knew a pass wasn't coming. His "not looking up" became more and more problematic as he got closer and closer to me. As he was about three strides from where I was on the blue line, I thought, "Shit..."
*WHAP* He collided with me and we both just kind of bounced off, but I felt like a moron. Sitting on the bench after that shift, I said "sorry man, I was just trying to get out of your way."
"What?" he said, in a not-so-comforting tone.
"I crashed into you on that rush," I replied. "I was trying to get out of the way.
"Oh," he said. "Don't worry about it. I had my head down anyways, if I had been looking up, I would've gone around. No big deal."
At the start of the third, we were down 5-0 and all hope was pretty much lost. Skating by our bench, one of the refs (a friend of the coach), said with a laugh "hey, have you guys tuned him out yet?"
"No," a teammate responded. "I'm pretty sure it's the other way around." We all had a laugh at that, finding humor in a 5-0 drubbing.
Things didn't improve much in the third, aside from Whalers Jersey goalie making two spectacular saves: a double-pad stack to deny a breakaway, and a sprawling, Tim Thomas-esque stick save that had even the refs and the opposing team's bench going "OHHHHHH!" It's a shame we weren't even close to competent in front of him.
As the clock ticked down, we went out for what was our final shift (it was 6-0 at this point, by the way), and we wanted to score to save face. Speedy ended up with the puck along the side boards, and tried to center it to me. It was denied, and the puck ended up behind the net. I drifted over towards the right faceoff circle, and the puck somehow ended up in my area.
I took a step forward and threw a wrist shot on goal, only to see it go off of the goalie's shoulder and off the post. Son of a...
The only positive that came from that shot was that the same defender who had checked me earlier rushed out at me to contest the shot. I made sure I finished my shot pretty high and with an elbow out.
During our shift's final seconds, I collected a turnover in the neutral zone and headed up ice with a 3-on-1 (turning into a 3-on-2 as an Orange guy hustled back). Speedy was on the far side, with White Helmet in the middle. I had a clear lane to the net, and should have shot the puck low and hard to force a rebound.
Instead, feeling bad about ruining his rush earlier, I tried to force a centering pass to White Helmet. It went off a defender's stick onto Speedy's and his whack was denied. Even actions with the best of intentions don't always turn out well, I guess. Next time, I'll be more selfish.
The game ended shortly thereafter, with your beloved Team Teal suffering its worst defeat of the clinic season. As I was waiting to file off the bench after the game, one of the refs, knowing we're a beginner clinic team, skated up to me and said, "You gotta shoot that puck. Next time you've got a lane like that, you gotta shoot."
Salt in the wound, ref. Salt in the wound.
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