What was he thinking?



Kayla Watkins - Ousted from her team by a another parent

Today I read an article in the Toronto Star about a 12 year old girl who was ostensibly forced to leave her single A boy's hockey team due to an irate parent of one of the boys on the team.  www.thestar.com/sports/hockey/article/910773--controversy-pushes-girl-off-coed-hockey-team  The article explains that a12 year old girl, Kayla Watkins, was extremely embarrassed by the actions and more so the words of George Atis, the parent of another player on the Single A Toronto Ice Dogs Pee Wee Club.

George Atis, a lawyer, and not part of the coaching staff, called a meeting to address what he considered weakness in Kayla's hockey abilities.  He also said that he was voicing the concerns of some of the boys on the team who were squeamish about changing in a co-ed environment.  His agenda stated that Kayla lacked the necessary skills to play with the team and that a more appropriate spot should be found for her.

What must be put into consideration is this is a 10th place, Single A team in Toronto - This is not the pipeline to the NHL.  To play in Single A, players have to try out and obviously Kayla had the skills to make the team.  If anybody should have voiced concerns with regards to her level of play, it should have been her coach, Paul Macchia.  Yet Macchia contends that he wanted Kayla to remain on the team, and he points out that the team has remained in 10th place even after Kayla's departure.  Obviously her skills or lack thereof were not part of the problem, more likely it was interfering parents who can't be bothered to volunteer their time to coach, but feel that a hockey team is some sort of democracy that requires their self important input.

Kayla chose to leave the team after accidently view the email in which Atis coldly enumerates what he perceives as Kayla's faults. 

I do understand the issues of change room and as kids enter puberty, it can be fraught with awkwardness.  I never thought twice about changing with my male teammates, though we had reached the age where seeing anybody's "bits" had completely lost its thrill.  We worked it out easily and I'm sure Kayla's team had the issue well in hand.  Even on an all male team, boys enter into puberty at different ages and thus there will be an element of awkwardness present.  With wisdom and guidance on the part of parents, it could have been dealt with.

I also understand that we're dealing with double standards.  Girls want to be allowed to play in boy's leagues, but conversely, boys are not allowed to play in girl's leagues.  I know the argument, if a girl is good enough to play with the boys, she should be allowed to play, but what if a boy isn't good enough to play with the boys, should he then be allowed to play with a girl's team?  There aren't any clear cut answers, though inevitably, top male athletes will out muscle females, though I don't think that was an issue for the 12 year olds in question.

At the end of the day, George Atis had no excuse for doing what he did.  If he had a concern, he should have dealt with the coach and if he didn't find resolution, he could have taken his son to play for another team next season.  He had absolutely no right to target a 12 year old girl, who was simply playing the game she loved.

Oh the shame, oh the ignominy

Imagine having this attached to your butt!

Well when you last left this intrepid author, I was off to the chiropractor after have endured a pain filled weekend due to what I thought was a pinched nerve.  I hadn't been to a chiropractor in about 20 years, this was not due to any dislike of the profession, I simply hadn't required their services in general.  Back in the day, I used to bartend at various clubs around Toronto and working long shifts slightly bent over a bar pouring drinks was not good for my lower back, thus the chiropractor.  Yet, lo and behold, I stopped bartending, the lower back pain stopped and I no longer required a chiropractor.

Well it's 20 years later, my criteria for finding a chiropractor this time around, was who could take me right away on Monday and make the gosh awful pain stop!  I managed to luck into a cancelled appointment at a local sport injury clinic, so off I went, making sure I had on clean underwear (actually I wore my under armour shorts, since they hold everything in nicely).  After filling out various forms, I was led to a consultation room to await the Dr.  A few minutes later a smokin' hot young man comes in and introduces himself as Justin.  Now you have to realize I'm old enough to be this young man's mother, but that doesn't prevent me from appreciating his gymnast build (you know, squat, but well muscled).  Turns out this paragon of masculinity is my chiropractor to be!  After a series of questions, he leaves me to get into a gown and to closely inspect his degree that was mounted on the wall, since he looked young enough to be just starting his undergrad, but no, he had graduated five years ago.  That's a true sign of age - when the Drs start looking like grade school kids!

Justin returned to my lovely gowned self (still had my socks & under armour on, since I felt more lady like that way and my feet were cold) and had me try to touch my toes.  Now even in my healthy state, I can't touch my toes.  I am a very inflexible person, but in my present state I could barely make it past my knees!  He had me on my stomach on the exam table while he prodded the base of my spine trying to find the issue, by following the trail of pain he found the culprit in a walnut sized knot and scar tissue in the middle of my butt pressing on my sciatic nerve.  When he pressed down on the walnut, I let a yell of pure pain out!  Yup that was the spot!  By this point I had lost any qualms about having the young Adonis manipulating my lily white and rather fleshy behind, I didn't care if it was Brad Pitt (or really in my case, my preference is Colin Firth) digging his thumbs into my nether regions, I was just hopping that all this pain would bring some sort of eventual relief.

Justin and I have progressed to acupuncture, which I had never tried before, but I was willing to keep an open mind towards the whole concept.  Imagine have your butt used as a pin cushion and you've got an idea how I feel, to be honest I can't even feel the needles in my behind, it's the ones he puts in my toes that are a little 'ouchy' .  Tomorrow I'll have deep tissue massage before my treatment since the whole area has seized up!  I'm lucky in that we have a health plan that covers this stuff.

This is the first physically debilitating issue I've really had to deal with in a long time.  I'm used to bouncing back quickly from an injury, but it doesn't look like it this time.  I know that at my age (48) that is takes longer to heal, but I'm not ready to hang up the hockey skates quite yet.  Heck, I can enjoy the sight of my chiropractor (even though most of our time together I'm face down with my butt in the air).  I still think the hottest thing on skates is my husband John and enjoyable part of our time together is spent playing hockey, that's my reality and I'm definitely not giving that up yet!



Death Be Not Proud

Chrissy

Yesterday, my sister in law's (Laurene) niece and goddaughter passed away due to complications induced by cystic fibrosis.  She was just nineteen.  She had been sick for a long time.  Her passing, though not unexpected, is still difficult to understand.  We have a certain expectation of life, one is born, lives, ages, then dies.  The disruption of this process unsettles us.  I only had had a fleeting connection to Chrissy, since she was my brother's wife's sister's daughter - a somewhat tenuous connection to say the least, yet our families intertwined at times, and I had the privilege of meeting her a few times.  Because of her frailty, I would always inquire about how she was doing before I would ask about the rest of Laurene's extended family.  I guess it's akin to cheering for the underdog, you knew about the strikes against her, but you still couldn't help hoping the best would happen for her.

Cystic Fibrosis is a vicious disease, in that one's own body produces the debilitating effects of the disease in the form of a very thick mucous that covers the lungs, making it impossible to breath.  In addition, people with CF have a very difficult time absorbing nutrients through normal eating and generally have a difficult time growing at the pace of their peers.  About half of the people who have CF will survive to their 40s, the other half ... well, Chrissy was in the other half.

There is no known cure for CF.

About a year ago, Chrissy and her family came to Toronto for a visit from Western Canada.  Jamie, who was working at Canada's Wonderland at the time, managed to procure a deal on some tickets for them.  Afterwards they came to our house for a BBQ.   I had inquired ahead of time as to what foods the girls would prefer and I was informed that Chrissy didn't really eat anymore, or more accurately, her body had far too difficult a time digesting food and she was on a special diet.  I think 10 people sat down for dinner that night and Chrissy chose to hang out on the couch, though the raucous conversation and laughter tempted her enough to join us at the table for the later part of the meal.  Like a typical teen, she was more interested in texting and checking her cell phone than anything else, but she did seem to enjoy the camaraderie.  After dinner she played a little pool, but more than anything, she loved playing with Guinness, our dog.  She desperately wanted a dog, but her mom wisely kept putting it off, knowing that it would be too much for the family to handle.  Chrissy ran and ran around the pool table, playing 'tag' with Guinness, she was exhausted far too quickly, and went and lay down under the pool table - Guinness with a wisdom that animals sometimes posses, did not bother her to play further, but quietly lay down beside her.  A special moment of quiet enjoyment on both their parts.

Maybe if you're looking to donate some money this holiday season, you'll think about Cystic Fibrosis
http://www.cysticfibrosis.ca/en/index.php

Chrissy was on the list for lung transplant.  Today I made sure my donor card was signed and visible in my wallet.  Tonight I'll discuss with John my wishes with regard to organ donation.  Tonight I'll give Madie a good hug and send Jamie an email about how special he is.  Tonight I'll ask God to look out for an amazing teen who's coming His way.

In the Wee Hours

The internet is a dangerous tool when it's three in the morning and you're in so much pain that you can't sleep.  Inevitably you boot up your computer and start searching for a diagnosis for the symptoms that you have.  This really isn't the best of ideas, since in the wee hours of the night, your imagination takes flight and you become convinced that what you have can only have the direst of consequences.

I've been progressively having problem with pain in my left leg, but I shrugged it off as one of those inevitable aspects of aging.  I became a tad more diligent with regards to my glucosamine consumption and tried to improve my core strength at the gym.  I accept that by playing hockey I'm likely to suffer a few injuries madwomanofhockey.blogspot.com/2010/10/thats-gonna-hurt.html, if I didn't want to take a chance on being injured playing a game, I'd try a tamer sport, but I thrive on the intensity of hockey!  Of course this cavalier attitude went to heck in a hand basket once the real pain set in.  Somehow, and I still don't know how, I managed to pinch a nerve at the L2 portion of my spine (this is the area just at the top of your butt, right below your lower back).  I can't attribute it to any particular injury, hockey or otherwise.  During my Friday night game I was impaled by my own stick into my abdomen, a combination of not being able to stop in time while going in for the puck and being pushed by an opposing player.  I have a lovely bruise on my tummy - you know that section below your shoulder pads and above your hockey pants - ouch!  Yet even with my High School anatomy, I know the stomach muscles are not connected to the spine and this was enough to bruise, not damage anything severely - heck I even kept playing, I was more worried about my stick, since it had been bent quite a bit.

My left leg had been bothering me all day Friday, but off I went to hockey with a I'll just skate it off attitude.  It actually felt better after the game and I felt justified in my decision to play, but later that night I woke up in incredible pain, unable to find a comfortable position lying down or sitting.  I spent most of the night pacing the floor and looking up maladies on the internet that included pain in one leg accompanied by numbness and a tingling sensation.  Of course it was during the darkest hours that I was convinced I had ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) or perhaps some sort of tumour pressing on a nerve.  Yes, as wonderful as the internet can be, it can be very dangerous, since a little bit of knowledge can be very dangerous at three in the morning.

The weekend was a haze of pain, heating pads, ibuprofen, and constant shifting of my body in an effort to find a comfortable spot.  With a heavy heart, I decided not to play Sunday night since I was terrified of injuring myself any further.  This is the first time I've missed a hockey game due to injury.  Sure I've missed for family vacations, family functions and to donate blood, but never for sickness or injury!  I guess it was bound to happen some time or another, but I still felt badly for doing so.

I spent a few hours at the chiropractor today.  The intense pain is gone, but it's still stiff and the numbness and tingling still remains.  I'm getting a good look at my mortality or at least my frailty.  I have exercises along with ice/heat regimins to complete and I'll be back with the chiropractor on Wednesday.  I know I have to treat this like a bump in the road, but pain is a cruel taskmaster and I'll be hesitant to return to hockey until I'm convinced that I won't have to spend the wee hours wondering if I have to undergo an amputation.  I think if it happens again, I'll stay away from the internet and just read a good book.

It Was Here a Minute Ago!

The Great One

One of the greatest hockey players of all time was attributed as having said "A good hockey player plays where the puck is.  A great hockey player plays where the puck is going to be."  Gretzky had an incredible sense for the game, in that he could anticipate the various nuances that would indicate where the puck would be.  One could argue that that's what made him such a legendary player and somewhat mediocre coach, in that he could anticipate on an intuitive level, but found it difficult to verbalize what came so naturally to him. 

Of course I'm left in a quandary, since if a good player plays where the puck is, and great one goes to where it will be, what do you call a player like me, who intends to get to where the puck is, but usually misses it?  Oh, don't bother, I don't want to know.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss!

Me (#15) streaking in to make a play

The more I play, the more I'm getting to realise where the play is going.  I know when John rifles the puck around the rim of the boards on the near side, I'm supposed to streak in and pick it up on the far side.  See I know that ... it's just that execution is a tad shaky!  Plus I know when we're breaking out of our end I'm supposed to be watching over my shoulder to see if the defenseman is passing it up to me.  I've finally learned how to skate and look over my shoulder at the same, sort of like walking and chewing gum at the same time!  Course I'm usually looking over the wrong shoulder .....

Oh well, as the say "the best laid plans ...."   Now where is that puck?  I could have sworn it was here a minute ago.