(Austin Crosby National Champion, Fastest Skater Squirt House League – 2007)
Tonight was the first playoff game for my 11 year old son’s hockey team. Before the night was over, my blood pressure was pushing the envelope and I needed throat soothing lozenges. I’m an involved hockey mum (that’s Canadian, eh) who cheers at her sons’ games… but if you want to see me get a knot in my shorts, sign up to be another blind ref at our arena. Read: we don’t need any more, thankyouverymuch. Sweet Jesus was needed for another healing of the blind man. Seriously.
My bright, skillful boy scored on a breakaway, lifting the puck, hitting the back post of the net and it popped right back out…. but the refs didn’t see it. We jumped from our seats howling, with victory hands in the air…. then……wondered why the game continued to be played. I’m not making this up. There were fans for the other team trying to console me by letting me know that it was indeed the invisible goal. THEN, my extremely talented son unselfishly passed to a teammate in front of the net and the other kid tapped the puck in. We jumped from our seats howling, with victory hands in the air. However, the goalie covered the puck on the ice with his glove, and brought the puck back out after it was over the goal line. I almost popped a blood vessel. Say it isn’t so. Say it isn’t so.
At games I don’t scream and yell. O.K., that was a falsehood. Allow me to extrapolate. I yell, “Shoot!” …often, …always at the top of my lungs. When my athletic, brilliant boy has a breakaway, I yell, “Come on, baby. Come on, baby,” rapidly…. and repeatedly. What I meant was: I don’t scream at the refs. I’m trying to be a good example.
Crack me up tonight, a fellow teammate’s mom was sailing lines over the boards to the refs that could be dialogue for another Slap Shot movie…. minus the rough language. They were priceless. Who needs to pay sitcom writers when they could go to PeeWee league hockey games and get material worthy of an award. She yelled, “We’re having eye exams out in the lobby for all the refs before the final game.” :o) And, “Just when I thought I knew the rules, you guys start messin’ with my mind. I get icing. I get offsides. But I thought when the puck went in… we scored???” I needed the laugh, to say the least. My favorite was, “How much are they paying you? We’ll double it! Pass the hat!”
Final score on the scoreboard: Them- 2; Us- 1. REAL score in all the fans’ minds: Them- 2; Us- 3.
Enough said. (Goodness sakes. It’s going to take me a few hours to settle down and get to sleep tonight.)
My Sister's Jar 