At Least It Wasn't My Fault: NY Lions 11, Blue Bombers 5

OK, so maybe it wasn't my excruciatingly tentative defensive skills that were in question. Not completely, anyway.

This pasting, courtesy of the NY Lions, was mostly the result of needing to find a sub goalie minutes before the game. I guess our sub had shown up, but inexplicably without equipment, which was about as useful as tits on a bull. So our captain scrambled, and came up with...this guy. Allegedly, he'd played goalie before, if "having gear" qualifies as experience.

But other than that? I was probably as qualified, although I lack that certain, special, batshit insane quality (no offense, Liz and Elaine!) that many goalies possess.

And so it was a shooting gallery. On both ends. I mean, we combined for 16 goals out there, but it was a joke. We all knew it, so we relaxed and had at least a modicum of fun with it. They were scoring at will, from just about anywhere: slot, point, blueline. A slapshot had a better than 50-50 chance of finding the back of the net, and while our D was scrambling to sweep garbage out from in front of the crease from the inevitable rebounds, they weren't miracle-workers.

At least I was playing wing, and as such, felt a little removed from (and absolved of) the carnage going on below our defensive hash marks. After a couple of games of D where I just could not get comfortable, Carrie moved me up to wing. Sure, it stung a little. I felt like I'd stumbled coming out of the starting gate, never got comfortable playing D in a better league with people I didn't know. My first game at wing, Carrie was very cool about it: "I was really impressed with you out there, you had a great game." It eased the sting a bit, but I wore the fact that I played D as a badge of honor in Oakland. Wing was where you minimized the impact of lesser players.

But in the midst of the laugher, I managed to get the second assist on a legit bang-bang hockey play. Matt, one of our better players and highest scorers, was playing D. He rushed deep into the NY Lions zone, with me in tow at right wing. The puck was forced into the corner, and caromed around the boards to me just above the right faceoff dot on the boards. As a defenseman rushed to me, I coralled the puck, took a quick look, and noticed Matt stationed below the goal line to the near side of the net. Instead of forcing it into the crease or slot, I one-timed the puck back to Matt in deep, and he one-timed it to our center, Curtis, who was streaking down the slot. Curtis proceeded to one-time it into the net...bang-bang-bang.

It felt pretty good, and was finally something I could point to that would salve the wounds of not cutting it as a defenseman in the first few games.

In addition, since this was a relatively early game, I finally made it out with the team for beers. The loss was so comic that it didn't matter, and joining a couple of folks -- Scotty, Karel, Carrie, Eric -- at the Half King was the icebreaker I was looking for. When you're friends with people, all playing together and hanging out together, the beer-league nature of the games becomes more evident, and everyone loosens up. In getting to know my teammates -- substantial Buffalo contingent -- I'm hoping to gain their confidence. Mine too.

G: 0
A: 1
PM: 0