| While still wearing my sweat-soaked Bruins Yellow, I would
step between the pipes with California condors flying in my gut. I always get
nervous before a game, but something about a team in matching custom jerseys really gives
me the heebie-jeebies. And so with a nod from referee Greg Burdette, the game was
on. Lo and behold, if I didn't learn something. What a difference a D makes. The Comets would play hard, beyond my wildest expectations. For one of the few times since I began playing I had fun. I no longer felt like the weight of the team defense was on my shoulders. For a change, I felt like I was on a team. When I turned a shot aside, a skater (one from my team) would swoop in and carry it to safety. If someone stood in the slot, they were invited (none too politely I might add) to leave. The offense didn't hobble into the attacking zone, they drove into it. It was a genuinely good feeling to know that I wasn't the only goalie sweating on the ice that night. The team concept was not lost on me by any means. Later in the game, when one of our players was checked way too hard by one of the opposition, I made it a point to display some team concept to them. Though I had held them scoreless through one, we found ourselves down only by one in the third. To close the gap, we loosened up on defense a little. On one occasion, a forward broke away and came straight down the ice at me. Once he was close enough, I dove out and "poke checked" him. His legs kicked hard into my back, where my padding is thinnest, as he went over me. But it was OK, I took one for the team. |
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