Archive for the ‘hockey’ Category

The hockey report

Sunday, March 14th, 2010

It has been a long, long season for the Mite Bears, the lovely Weaselette’s hockey team. They have not won a game, nor even tied one, and while score is not officially kept for the 8-and-under age group, they are all very much aware of this fact. Today was their last game. (more…)

Saturday hockey

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

Weasel Jr’s hockey team, the Nanooks, faced the Knights this Saturday. The Knights managed to show up without their goalie, and according to coach’s pre-game talk, they have yet to win a game this season. The Nanooks, on the other hand, are undefeated. Coach didn’t quite say, “go easy on the poor saps” but he certainly implied it. Lots of talk about making sure the kids passed, no hotdogging, no penalties. So the lovely Mrs. Weasel and I were expecting a snoozer of a game as we settled into the bleachers.

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Hockey report

Saturday, October 11th, 2008

Today was Weasel Jr’s first hockey game of the season. The county league he plays in assigns kids to teams in an allegedly random manner [1] in order to keep the teams competitive. Weasel Jr’s team, the curiously named Nanooks, has only two kids we’ve ever encountered before in five years playing at the same rink and a new-to-us coach to boot. The odds of such a collection of unknowns occurring randomly seems slim and I’ve been assuming that the ‘Nooks are the rejects and castoffs of the Salt Lake County pee-wee hockey talent pool. So it was with some trepidation [2] that we arose at the unholy hour of 7:30 to bundle the sleepy kids in the car and drive to the rink. I expected my son to be peppered with shots by a vastly superior opposing team and wasn’t looking forward to the experience.
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A poor day to be a goalie

Sunday, November 11th, 2007

On Saturday Weasel Jr’s team, the Lions, faced the Devils of West Valley City. T., a friend of mine is an assistant coach on the Devils; we play together on the worst team in the worst division of Salt Lake County recreational adult hockey. While I think kindly of T. as a teammate I think rather less of him as a coach. The Devils are the canonical “win at all costs” team. They cherry pick, they hack, they whine, all with the implicit (and occasionally explicit) support of their coaches. Games against them are rarely fun.
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Another hockey update

Saturday, March 3rd, 2007

The regular goalie for Weasel Jr’s kiddie hockey team, the Devils, decided he’d rather play forward for the remainder of the year [1], leaving them in need of a new goalie. Naturally, my beloved son decided to volunteer. I’m sure there are more stressful things than having your child play goalie, such as getting audited by the IRS during a hurricane with a venomous snake in your pants, but it’s pretty darn close to the top of the list. So you can imagine the lovely Mrs. Weasel’s and my delight at the news.
Particularly since he has done this before, two years back, and frankly, he was awful.

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Hockey update

Saturday, November 12th, 2005

I know, there have been precious few [1] hockey updates this year. Here’s one and something of an explanation why they are so few.

Weasel Jr’s team, the Devils, faced the Kings today. The Kings are mighty tough: they split the ice with a team an age group up during practices, so they constantly scrimmage against kids two years older. This has hardened them into little ten-year-old killing machines.

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Hockey update.

Saturday, March 20th, 2004

If you’ve been following the hockey updates lo these many years, you may
have noticed that there’s been one event that I’ve never described, and
that’s the occasion of Weasel Jr. scoring a goal. This is not due to some
great modesty regarding my son’s accomplishments. No, the sorry fact is that
in two seasons of playing, despite his concerted efforts and his very
serious talks to God on the topic, the fruit of my loins had never managed
to score in a game, and it weighed heavy on his eight year old head.

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Hockey report

Sunday, February 22nd, 2004

Two months ago Weasel Jr. played his first hockey game as goalie. We

got the enormous and terrifying communal goalie gear from the coach a week
before, and practiced in our basement nightly. The first night, he couldn’t
stand up under the massive and awkward burden of all those many pads. I had
to tie the gloves on him with string. He lurched about like a diminutive
Frankenstein, staggering and collapsing extravagantly. “Dad…” a tiny
voice would come from the thrashing heap of pads on the floor, “help….”.
And I’d have to help him up.

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