Present Tense

This weekend I had a true athletic experience. I, however, am no longer an athlete. It took me this weekend to finally realize that.

I have always taken pride in the fact that I played hockey, here at the College, when we had a team. I also spent a year in the sticks of Bridgton, Maine trying to improve my hockey and academic skills.

This weekend I found how far that has brought me.

I got a phone call from a friend who was putting a team together to participate in a men's league tournament.

I got off the couch after a two year nap and began to work out. I finally had something to work towards. I had played in the tournament the previous year but did not participate in all five games.

The guys coming up expected to win, meaning that although there would be fun times, there would also be some serious hockey played.

I had not played serious hockey in a long time, yet, I felt that maybe, just maybe, my floor hockey experience during the past month would carry me through the weekend. I was wrong.

The first game was not too bad. I was thrown back on defenses, a position I was never comfortable playing, but I gave it the old college try.

After golfing, throwing horseshoes all day in the sun, and having an occasional cocktail, my mood was somewhat "relaxed" as the game began.

The team we played was not very good and we won by a decent margin, seven or eight to nothing. I had a great plus/minus but did not score any goals.

The second game we had was scheduled for 12:30 on Saturday. That sounds like a pretty easy time to get up for, but staying up and being hockey players the time felt like a 6am practice.

Well our team came up big and we won in commanding fashion 12-0. Again my plus/minus was great, but still no goals.

Off we went, our team, the Muffins and Cupcakes to celebrate our victory and get a bite to eat. We headed to the local FYP and enjoyed some adult beverages with our lunch. After lunch we all had a choice to make: head home, recuperate, or travel straight towards the silly place we all were last night. Well we went to that silly place called the Mound.

That night we narrowly squeaked by a team that if anybody besides the goalie was sober we would have dominated.

After another debacle of a night we set off to play in the playoff games early Sunday morning. We got by the first, 6-1, then we ran into the Shamrocks. A local team compiled of talented players and we were defeated. After all we went through, all the vomit on the bench, all the sleepless hours, we lost.

As I shelled out the sixty-five bucks, without scoring a goal, I said was it worth it? Yes, hockey is the greatest and hockey players are a different breed. It was a great weekend, but I think I have to go to Woody to learn how to walk again.