Friday, June 22, 2007

Puck You


My kid was doing horseback riding until a couple of months ago. She decided she wanted to try ice skating. So on Wednesday we went over to the big rink by the big fake Parthenon and I took her skating for the first time. I was expecting the worst, because skating is hard, and I told her so. She took three laps around holding on to the rail, then she just started skating. It took her 15 minutes, and she was skating better than several others there. She loved it. So we went back again today.

Now, I hadn't been on ice skates in a very, very long time. But I did a lot of skating growing up. I have lived all my life in the south, except for those nine formative years spent in . . . gasp . . . Indiana. And while I was growing up in cornland, I played hockey. For years I played, and I got pretty good at it. My family moved back below the Mason Dixon when I was 15, so that was the end of hockey for me.

I got to college in Dallas, and, despite having had two or three years off, decided to join a men's league. The men's league in Dallas at that time consisted of 99% Detroiters and Canadians who were in their mid-30s and had played hockey their whole live and were pissed off that they had to move to Dallas because they lost their job at GM or Ford and they took out their aggression at the rink.

The other 1% was a skinny college kid who hadn't played in two or three years. I joined my boss' team (a Canadian) in mid-season, after the Christmas break. My second career lasted about nine minutes. I ended up with seven stiches in my chin.

Undaunted, I showed up for the next game. As we were warming up the referee, who was also the organizer of the league, skated up to me and said, "I got your application in the mail this week. You have to be at least 21 to play in this league. You need to get off the ice, and I'll refund your money."

That was the last time I was on skates until this week. But I felt pretty good. I started to get the bug, so I looked up information on the men's hockey leagues here in Nashville. There is the A/B league, which is advanced to expert. While at one time I would have considered myself a candidate for that league, I know better now. Next is the upper C league, which is intermediate skill, plus it meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which is best for me. Then there is the lower C league, for beginners. Naw, I'll pass on that.

Then, wait, what's this? Oh . . . it's the old-man league. It's called "Silver Fox." One night a week, on Wednesdays. (That's probably all they can handle.) Bless their old-man hearts . . . uhhhh . . . Age 35 and older!? 35 and older are "Silver Foxes"?

With all due respect, Nashville Adult Men's Hockey League, you can just piss right off. I'm not a "silver" anything. I'll play with the punk-ass 30-year-old kids.

3 Comments:

At 5:00 PM , Blogger Short and Fat said...

Just so's you know...there's not an upper age limit for the Silver Fox league.

 
At 5:22 PM , Blogger Nashville Knucklehead said...

Very funny, Shorty.

Just so's you know, Shorty, you better hope I end up on your team, 'cause otherwise YOU ARE GOING DOWN!!!

(Unless I have a Canasta game that night, or my sciatica is acting up, because then I won't be able to make it.)

 
At 7:05 PM , Anonymous Grace said...

I'm such a Nashville Men's Hockey League groupie.

In fact, one of the central characters in my blawg plays on several teams--including those Silver Foxes... :-)

You should definitely play! Then I could be your groupie too!!

 

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