Through either design, fate or even luck (both good and bad), I have played most of my hockey career with men. Though most of these men act like little boys, especially in the dressing room, where farting takes on a whole new dimension, for the sake of this article, I will refrain from commenting upon male antics (thus saving such fodder for future discussion) and simply try to contain my comments to the act of playing hockey mainly with males.
When I signed up for a beginner league, I actually signed up to play in a female beginner league, but due to lack of intrepid females, the league was never begun and I was transferred to play with the beginner men. Thus I began my hockey career, more through default than through design.
I have to admit that I like playing hockey with men. Early on, we decided that we would change in the same dressing room. It created more of a team atmosphere and it was illuminating to catch a glimpse into male locker room antics and conversations.
It was on the ice that the differences really started to show up. The young 20/30 year old, single males quickly became better hockey players, though we really all started at the same level. They had both inclination and more importantly, the time, to dedicated to the sport. Whereas I, both married and with kids at home would show up once a week and muddle through the drills. By the time actual games took place there was a large divide in abilities.
But then I discovered the magic of the pony tail. I found I could get away with a lot more things than the guys could. The refs (mostly middle aged men) went pretty easy on the females. The first time I discovered this, was when I doing a sharp turn, which in my case was the approximate radius of a double decker bus, when I speared an opponent with my stick. Of course my stick was supposed to be on the ice, but that's another matter altogether. The ref shouted out, "Hey number 11, watch the high stick!" I replied, "Sorry, but sometimes I lose my balance." The ref gave me one of those benign smiles that are indicative of male who feels eminently superior and responded "That's OK then, just try your best." At that point I realized I could probably impale the opposing player on my stick and the ref would tell the hapless victim, "Well, she was just trying her best."
The other night I was playing and a much faster opposing player was making their way around me. I tried lifting his stick and was successful, thus he lost the puck. When I was sitting at the bench, the ref said to me" You know that was hooking?" I actually did know that I had got my stick into the gloves, but innocently replied, "But I didn't mean to" and then I got that same benign smile with the reply, "Oh I could tell you didn't mean to do it, that's why I didn't call you on it."
Yup, I think I've brought the woman's movement back a few decades. I figure though, that at my age (and speed), I might as well use everything God gave me. Consider it brains over brawn.
I have also never received a speeding ticket from a male police officer. Each time I've managed to talk my way out it. The one ticket I did receive, was from a female officer, she wasn't inclined to chat.
Next Sunday I start playing in a female league with female refs. I think I'm going to have to come up with a new strategy.
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