Puck Love

Sunday Frozen Sunday

It had been a week of bitter cold temps.  The forecast was for a wet warm front to being in higher temps and precipitation. But today was THE perfect day for pond hockey, rare during these times of riotous climate upheaval.  Little snow had accumulated during the arctic invasion, and despite its low January arc, the sun shined brilliantly.  And it was Sunday. This was, indeed, a gift

I had a problem. Despite the fact that it was Sunday, I was on the go with work and kid hockey shuttles from 7 am to 7 pm.  I had a one hour window in the middle of it all, but I was in sleep debt and feeling run down. When I got to the comfort of my home and stretched out, I was willing to let the opportunity pass in order to recharge.  But I was definitely aware of a nagging urge, that pond hockey itch.  To me, pond hockey is the ultimate recreational activity.  I don't like putting on the "armor" and playing real hockey, but I adore the pond game for all the right reasons.

Before shutting down on the couch, I noticed a second cousin of mine from Mass. posting on Facebook that she was getting out for some pond hockey and included a photo. It was the proverbial straw, impossible to ignore. I packed up skates gloves and stick and set off for a happy little hockey cove.

A substantial neighborhood gathering filled the parking spots. I laced up with less than an hour to play, but knew it was enough to capture the essence.  I stumbled around on skates I hadn't put on in nearly a decade, trying to find my sea legs.  I pocketed the puck that was sticking in the snow and just skated for the sheer joy of it. I left the 10 year olds and went through a narrow neck out towards the large lake .  The sun broke through all the haze and started beaming full blast.  I was bathing in vitamin D, cool air and black ice. Nirvana.  Cheap sunglasses to completed my ensemble. Perfection.

And then the hockey gods took over.  A game was taking place in a shoveled rink with 9 players. All seemed my age as I skated by. A saint called over "We need one!"  Seconds later I am trying to figure out my teammates names as I am involved in a game in which no one had pads. Just a hockey glow, smiles and the beginnings of a sun tan.

The took exactly amount of the time I had. I found my sea legs, found my teammates with passes, and didn't make any enemies by playing too hard.  I found myself in some offensive flow toward the peak of the game, and some fellow impeded my progress, I guess you could say he "checked" my progress with a muscular ass into my midsection right in the slot.  I laughed and threw him a complement as I danced back to help out on defense.

Right on cue we were playing "Next Goal Wins," and after a number of quality chances, our gang of 5 coughed up the game winner.  I cannot accept any sense of being a loser out there, on this wonderful day of ice and human perfection.  I said a quick good bye and skated out into the grand pond or small lake, loving January's gift to us all.  I circled back 5 minutes later and found most of the remaining fellows gathered on a fallen tree, talking and relaxing.  They offered me a beer.  I'm not going to wax poetic about a Coors Light, but those beer ads have NOTHING on the joy we all were experiencing, major endorphins flowing on the frozen pond. Over the course of a 12 ounce barley pop I learned that the fellow who butt checked me so efficiently learned to play hockey in the wonderful winter province of Manitoba, and that there were several connections to my son's HS hockey team from town.  New relationships spawned, refreshments consumed, new face tan in place, I went and picked up my 14 year old for his travel game.  Turns out he had carved out 2 hours to play shinny on the pond.  A one-day sample of the Great State of Hockey, Minnesota.