Now they want to try what??
Suddenly you have a goalie?!?
Then it happens. Now your skater wants to “try” goalie. This, uhmmm, “opportunity” may rise because your kid’s current team doesn’t have a designated goalie, or your league is short on goalies, or your lovable (i.e.- you will kill him later) coach decides to ask for volunteers to slide between the pipes. Heck, your kid may just love the idea of seeing black rubber zip past his face. Regardless of the circumstances, you have now entered what I lovingly refer to as the Goalie Zone. (Cue the music.)
“You are now entering a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between sanity and chaos, between winning and loosing, between eating normal meals or surviving on ramen noodles, the life of Just Broke or Super Broke. It’s not just a game, it’s an adventure - for both of you.” - Me
Take a deep breath and stop crying. Grab a paper bag and take a few breaths and gather your thoughts. You can do this! Embrace the adventure, the excitement, the rush of adrenaline- maybe grab a bottle of Pepto and some Tums as well, then let’s unpack this whole goalie thing.
Goalies are, in my humble opinion, the strongest players on the ice. (Yes, I am a goalie mom, but you knew that already!) They are phenomenal athletes with cat like reflexes and nerves like steel while wearing a couch. They live to see others cry.
As my son has said on many occasions;
“I am the crusher of dreams, and I feast on their tears.” - AJ “Waffles” Drake #35
Where most would have the instinct to duck when that little rubber missile is flying at their head, these kids launch themselves towards it. They are both Seekers and Beaters - looking for that little black Snitch as it goes buzzing by their heads, deftly snatching it out of the air when the chance arises or whacking it out of the crease with a stick or leg pad in the blink of an eye. They are the Gandalfs of hockey, proudly standing at the top of the crease, goalie stick in hand, proclaiming;
*** Geek props all around for working in BOTH Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings into a discussion about hockey. I dare you to find that kind of talent anywhere else on the Internet!***
Does it always play out that way.... mmmmmm, no. Sometimes your Pekka Rinne in the making will just watch that puck speed on past and swoooch, its a goal. It happens. A lot. And that’s ok. From a goalie perspective hockey is like a chess game - the great ones learn to wait for the shooter to make a move, then counter it with a move of their own, like an icy tango.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, don’t start handing out the dance cards just yet. First things first - that first ice session in goalie gear.
Wait, what - you say. Goalie gear? You mean the stuff I have isn’t going to work? Hmmmm, no. “BUT WHHHYYY!”; you cry out. “What on earth is this child of mine thinking?!? I just figured out how the hell to get his player gear on!”
But the kid looks up at you, excitement beaming from their eyes. It’s their big chance! “I wanna do it, Mom. Pleeeeesssseeeee.” (Insert batting eyelashes here.)
How can you say no to that sweet cherub face?
Now at this point, if you are lucky, the coach whips out what are called quick change pads. This set usually includes leg pads, glove, blocker, and a jersey that goes over the shoulder pads and presto - we have a goalie! Did that happen with my kid? Nope.
Little backstory here, my darling son pestered the living hell out of me for 6 months to try goalie. Six. Freakin. Months. He wore me down. One of my go to excuses was there wasn’t any extra goalie gear at the rink we were at, and I certainly wasn’t going to buy a bunch of gear just for this little adventure!
Then we moved to a different rink. After a few more seasons of house mites the question came up again, because- you guessed it - at this rink they rotated the kids in and out of the net. So I knew it was coming. AJ spent one session in the net in his regular player gear and had a ball. So the next practice the opportunity presents its self, in all of its smelly, jumbled glory. One of the coaches brings in a bag full of mite sized goalie gear. The whole kit and caboodle, including the face mask. So it begins. The accomplice, I mean coach, helps you get all of this stuff on. After about 20 minutes of huffing and puffing you look over to see your budding McDavid has now morphed into mini Carey Price. Or the Michelin Man’s kid. Oh Lord help us all...
You watch as they try and figure out how to walk to the rink door in leg pads for the first time. Some sort of stiff legged side to side waddle will occur, much like a pelican walking on land, or the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man strolling through Manhattan. Your athletic looking sofa flounders through the door and out on the ice they go.
*** Or at least they should - for all the begging and pleading my child did to get to this point he froze in terror next to the door and refused to move. “What is your problem?” I hissed. “What if they make fun of me?” he squeaked. “They can’t even see you under all this stuff!” I exclaim. “We spent 20 minutes getting all this crap on, now get your butt out there and enjoy your self or it will be the last thing you ever do.” I growled. Can you believe this kid? NOW is when he wants to back out? In the words of the late, great Robin Williams in the movie Aladdin, “Excuse me? ... Did you wake me up? Did you bring me here? And all the sudden you’re walking out on me? I don’t think so, not right now. You’re getting your wishes, so sit down!” Or in this case - get out there.***
You tentatively watch the practice unfold with your face plastered against the glass, wincing every time one of those little black missiles zips past them. That’s seriously going to leave a mark, so is that one. Then the parade of parents begins...
“Is that little (insert name here) in the net?! Oh my gosh!”
“Wow, is that so and so wearing all that gear? I don’t even know how they can move around with all that stuff on!”
You ignore all of it. Your sole focus is on that net, which sometimes doubles as a cave depending on “Mini Price’s” positioning. There is flailing, sprawling, spinning - all while pucks are sailing by. “Mini Price” even stops a few, trapping them under their glove or bouncing off a leg pad. The hour long practice rolls by in a flash and suddenly the whistle blows and the mites come pouring off the ice like a frozen bag of Skittles, bouncing off of each other as they bumble into the hallways and to the benches to change out of their gear. “Did you see my goal, Mom?? Did you see it?” “I saw them all!” replies Mom. “You looked great!” exclaims Dad.
Meanwhile you are still waiting at the rink door. Here comes Michelin Man Jr., soaked in sweat. You are confident your one and done is complete and you can go back to the normalcy of being a player. Then you see it; the gleam in the eye, the grin splitting the face.
Sweet Jesus, you have a goalie on your hands.
“From small beginnings come great things” - Proverb
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