Hacking, Hoarking & Hissing

Try doing this when you wear a cage!

I've been sick.  Nothing fatal, just a common cold, but since everybody knows that in the throes of cold's worst symptoms, there's really nothing common about it.  I blame Jamie who was home with us this past week for his University reading week.  He returned home with a lot of dirty laundry, with a lot of hunger for home cooked meals and with a lot of viruses and/or bacteria that young people who live in residences seem to cultivate in droves.  My retribution was less cooking, but since we had a ton of leftovers from a party we hosted on the Family Day Monday, the poor boy did not go hungry!

My lungs are my Achilles heel.  When I get a cold, it always goes straight to my lungs.  This time it took a short bypass in my throat, so when I coughed I sounded like the cartoon character of Mutley laughing!

listen to this

Luckily I could take the time to recover, which was 2 1/2 days without a voice and a lot of lounging by the fireplace with apple juice.  My two men (John and Jamie) took my other man (Guinness) for his morning walk, so I didn't have to go out in the inclement weather.

I missed Friday night hockey, but was determined to get back to playing for Sunday night.  Thus Sunday found me labouring up and down the ice with various viscous liquids emitting from my nose.  There is nothing ladylike about playing with snot continually running out your nose and phlegm congealing in the back of your throat.  The pros deal with this issue by simply blowing/spitting said liquids onto the ice (or the floor of the bench area), but I differ from the pros (yes, I'm quite aware that that's the understatement of the year), by the fact that I wear a cage.  A face cage in hockey is a wonderful piece of protective equipment, that I wouldn't dream of playing without, but it is a somewhat restrictive, when attempting to rid yourself of the previously mentioned liquids. 

Miss Manners fails to mention what a lady should do when trying to deal with vast quantities of phlegm and and snot while playing hockey.  Come to think of it, I'm sure Miss Manners never utilized the words 'phlegm' or 'snot' in her life.  She does mention the dainty use of a handkerchief when one is face with dilemma of clearing one's nose, but since I don't think I even own a handkerchief (my grandmother is rolling over in her grave), I usually resort to the use of my hockey jersey's sleeve in a pinch (yes, I wash it after every game, even when I'm not sick).

Perhaps when I get better at hockey I will feel confident in raising my mask and spitting on the floor of the bench area.  I play with a lot of guys who do that, even when they don't have colds.  I've found that guys simply like to spit.  Till then, I'll use my sleeve and just hope that Miss Manners never watches hockey.

Family & Friends

The Ross Boys (Jamie, Justin, Kyle & Jordan) Between Games

Any parent who has put their child into hockey and especially competitive hockey, knows only too well what a huge time, as well as financial commitment that means.  It's a labour of love, both for the parent and the child, since that's what you require to make those numerous practices, games and tournaments; in addition to the never ending requirements for equipment as they grow in both size and skill level.  A cold hockey arena is really only fun for those play - those watching are there in a supportive (and chilled) role.   

In 1961, Ken and Mary Lou Ross started my husband John in hockey, his brothers Les and Doug soon followed.  The rule in the Ross household was the year you learned to walk, was the winter you started to skate.  All three of the Ross boys followed that maxim.  The Ross boys were all two years apart in age, so of course this necessitated various leagues, lessons and age groupings, but also allowed for a lot of hand me downs as well.  The Ross boys played a lot of hockey in the Lindsay/Peterborough area.  John talks about by the age of 12, play by play radio broadcasts of his games would be the norm.  All the Ross boys would experience this.  All of it was made possible by Ken and Mary Lou Ross.

Brothers, John and Doug Ross

Time would pass, and eventually the Ross boys gave up their dreams of playing in the NHL and started their careers and families.  They too would now spend countless hours ferrying their kid(s) to arenas, buying equipment, coaching, sending their kids to hockey camp ... now with the youngest of the group turning 17, the time spent continuing their parent's legacy is slowly coming to a conclusion.  The matriarch of the group, Mary Lou, has continued her involvement with her grand children's hockey (Ken passed away in 1993), she's still a keen fan and supporter.  Only time will tell if this generation of hockey players will create a new generation of hockey players.

Madie (the youngest grandchild) and Mary Lou

On Monday February 21st (Family Day), we had the rare opportunity of bringing the Ross clan together to play hockey in a tournament put on by Hockey Toronto.  The Ross boys (John, Les and Doug) had never played an actual game together growing up due to their age differences.  The same with the next generation (Justin, Jordan, Jamie, Kyle & Madie).  Somehow we managed to bring it all together, with the addition of myself, Les' buddy Dave and his son Paul, along with some Blues teammates, Aaron, Meghan, Tyler and Nick.

We had an absolute blast! Doug hadn't played in an actual game in about 30 years (his equipment clearly attested to this fact).  Justin had left hockey many years ago also, but it didn't really matter, what mattered was the fact that we had a chance to spend the day together, playing a game we loved.  For the fathers to play with their sons (and daughters) was a wonderful opportunity!  

I silently thanked my luck stars that I had been working out for a month beforehand, since otherwise I wouldn't have lasted through the third game.

We acquitted ourselves well, in fact we went into overtime against the team that won the tournament, so that says a great deal for some of the talent on our team.  Mary Lou said it was hilarious to watch our bench, since all the grand kids were standing up watching, while all her sons were sitting down (valiantly trying to regain their breath).

At the end of the day, we played some great hockey, went 1 - 2, drank a few beers and more importantly got to spend some fantastic time together as a family - now that's what Family Day should be all about!

Ménage à Trois

John & I in all our Splendor



Marriage means commitment.  Of course, so does insanity.  ~ Author Unknown

I am someone, to whom words have always come easily.  I was that kid in your English class who could pull together an essay at the last second and receive a great grade (I was the antithesis in math class - see, God is fair).  I've been meaning to blog about what it's like to play hockey on the same team as your spouse, but for some reason I've found that it's a topic that has so far been able to defy my ability to craft some semblance in to my unique situation, without digressing into some schmaltzy Hallmark moment (the today I married my best friend kind of cheese).  I consider myself to be an incredibly lucky lady to have found, albeit later in life, my soul mate and a great defence man all in the same person.  At night I can spoon together with a man who I find incredibly attractive, who protects me from the things that go bump in the night and who manages to cover up for me when I let a pass get past me. 


This is a second marriage for both John and I.  A second marriage is best described as hope triumphing over experience.  Perhaps meeting each other when we were older and wiser put certain aspects into perspective for us both.  When John and I met, I had already made a conscious decision that my divorce, though incredibly painful, would not define me as a person and that I would not let it tarnish my viewpoint towards love and commitment.  At the time, I was busy rebuilding my social life through involvements in sports, something that I had let slip.  Thus I found myself in whirlwind of softball and curling and eventually, through John's suggestion, hockey.  I find it ironic that the great loves of my life, came along together somewhat.  While we dated, my involvement in hockey grew.  Many a date were spent in various arenas watching Jamie, John's son, play competitive hockey, then on weekends we would meet at Toogood pond in Markham to skate on a massive outdoor pond.  My first time stick handling (other than standing in front of a garage door, receiving slap shots from my brother), was with a borrowed stick, as I skated around the pond, watching John interact with his kids, patiently picking Madie up from a snow bank after yet another spill, that I saw the man I was learning to love as an incredible father as he played hockey with his kids.

As John and I became more and more involved, the only aspect that made leaving him at the end of a weekend bearable (we lived about an hour apart), was that I had my adult hockey lessons on Sunday evenings to look forward to.  I'd call him after the lesson, regaling him with all that I had learned and experienced.  He let me prattle on and make sensible suggestions on ways to improve or practice. 

We were living together by the time I started with my beginner team.  He watched our first practice/lesson and was wise enough to respond to my inquiry as to how I did with a simple, "Looked like you were having fun."   He understood and supported the fact that I wanted to play hockey the day after we were married and thus delayed our honeymoon. 

John joined my beginner team after we had become experts (said with tongue in cheek) after one season.  He'd be the oldest on the team and hadn't played and organized game in about 25 years, yet he brought far more experience and expertise to the rink then the rest of our team combined.  At this point I was playing games twice a week and picking up a game of shinny once in a while, we saw it as a way to do something together - a sort of "date night."  Both kids were there for our first game together.  I won't describe that game, let it suffice to say that we were soundly defeated and terribly outplayed (we had moved into a new night and division).  John was the only player on the ice who could really do much to stop the inexorable tide of the other team.  He was exhausted and frustrated by the fact that most of us couldn't take his pass (his shot was a tad more forceful than ours) and that we really didn't know our positional play (I guess that one year had taught us too much).  It was silent in the car on the way home until we started to get close to home.

"You really should backcheck more, you know" he said in an exhausted tone of voice.

"I was backchecking," I replied, "They were 20 years younger than me and faster."

"'Oh."

That's the last conversation that John and I have about my level of play in hockey.  It's now two years later, and we're still playing together!  He's still playing at a level far below his abilities, but since it's easy for him to play down and impossible for me to play better than I am, it suits us. 

I'm 48 and John's 52, I don't know how much longer our bodies will allow us to play hockey.  We've met an incredible array of new friends through our involvement in hockey and don't have any immediate plans of quitting.  I could end this all off with a double entendre with regards to taking and giving a pass between us, but I think by this point you've got the idea of how things are between John, myself and hockey.  Who said a ménage a trois wouldn't work in a marriage?  The three of us seem to be getting along just fine. 

Hockey Parents

a typical scene from any hockey rink

Take a step into any hockey rink during non school hours and you'll usually see the same spectacle.  A lot of happy, sweaty kids and a lot of parents drinking Tim Hortons and hauling their kid's stuff around. 

For those 6 a.m. games!

Without parental (or adult) support, no child could ever play hockey.  The sheer logistics of getting one's equipment to and from the rink is daunting enough, but add in the cost and time lines, then you see that unless one (or preferably both) parents are on on board, then hockey remains out of reach for an unsupported child. 

If you read about the backgrounds of any pro hockey player, you will definitely see a common thread of parental involvement, but more importantly of parental sacrifice.  For a child to succeed in any sport, it usually requires parental sacrifice, but you'll find it even more so in hockey.  A kid can take a soccer ball and walk down to the local park to practice for hours on end, but to play hockey you need a parent willing to chauffeur the kid and the equipment back and forth to the rink.  Ice time on the weekends is at a premium, so frequently it means very early mornings for both the kids and the parents.

It's not too bad watching your kid play a game, but watching them practice is pretty tedious.  I remember Jamie's weekly practice were just far enough away from home that it didn't make any sense dropping him off and returning home, then picking him up later, since by the time you'd drive home you simply had to turn around and return to the rink to pick him up.  Thus you would sit around and watch him practice, drinking the requisite coffee and conducting desultory conversations with the other parents.

Of course there are the tournaments and the hockey training camps all of which require parental involvement, and more importantly parental time.

Even Madie's house league means ferrying her back and forth (thankfully she's old enough to carry her own equipment).

Why do parent's do it?  All you have to see is the look on a kid's face while they're playing to know why you do it.

In the end it's really quite simple.  If the kid loves it, a parent should do whatever they can to help their kid enjoy such an incredible sport.  If the kid doesn't love the game and a parent only has them in to live vicariously, then that's wrong, respect your kid, let your own dreams go and let the child find his/her own true passion.

I know I did.



An Interesting Technique

Me (#11) playing defence with a rather off balance stance in front of Sean (#33)

Wayne Gretzky once said:  "If you can't skate, you can't play our sport.  Skating is an art."

If I could do it all over again, I would have stuck with my figure skating lessons.  When I was a kid growing up in the 1960s, boys played hockey and girls figured skated.  My parents didn't prevent me from playing hockey, it never occurred to them or to me, that hockey was an option.  What was an option for me was figure skating and I hated it.  My lessons took place on an outdoor community rink, thus every Saturday morning in the winter I was bundled up to look like the Michelin Man and carted off to the rink to 'shoot the duck' and 'choctaw' with other overdressed six year olds.  My mother sat inside the community centre chatting with the other mothers, while I slowly froze to death as I tottered around the rink.  That the lessons occurred at all, were a result of my parents trying to be conspicuously fair and because I think my mother always wanted to figure skate.  By the age of seven, I declared I no longer wanted to figure skate and since it was taking all of my mother's energy to keep me practicing the piano, she decided the figure skating lessons could go.  In retrospect I should have stuck with the figure skating and let go of the piano, but seven year olds lack foresight and I didn't like the cold.

Well here we are forty-one years later.  I can play a mean Clair de Lune by Debussy, but I can't do a backwards crossover to save my life.  When you take up a sport later in life, you learn the basics, but that's all you really get.  You learn to stop (both directions, but like most players I prefer one over the other), frontwards crossovers (both directions, but like most players I prefer right foot over left, since it's something you can practice while pleasure skating), basic backwards skating (the C cut), then you move on to basic stick handling. 

Anooj (#15) & Brad (#18) in front of Sean

Some of the beginners that I started out with, have more natural skill (they're also younger, and truth be told, they practice more).  Hockey requires each maneuver to be performed with speed, agility, mobility, power, quickness, explosiveness and efficiency.  Brad (#18) in the above picture, has a natural ability, his technique incorporates the mantra that John preaches "Shoulders over knees over toes."

If you look at Sidney Crosby's stance, it stands in stark contrast to my own at the top of the page.  Crosby has had the benefit of a lifetime of training.  Today's stars fly down the ice at speeds unheard of even ten years ago.  Players who are agile and explosively fast dominate the game.  Crosby learned correct skating technique from the get-go!  Moreover he practice and practiced and practiced until the muscle memory was ingrained within him.  He doesn't have to think about force generation, center of gravity, acceleration, momentum, inertia, velocity, centrifugal forces - he just skates!

I lack the strong foundations upon which I could build hockey skills.  I sigh when I watch John effortlessly (OK it appears effortlessly to me at the time) accelerate backwards with efficient crossovers.  He knows and utilizes proper positioning, whereas I feel like most of the time I'm on the ice I'm the chaser in a game of "keep away".  John can shoot a wrist shot that hits the top corner of the net, whereas mine slides ineffectually across the ice.  John has technique from years of practice, Jamie has technique from practice and instruction.

I can play Rachmaninoff's C Sharp Minor Prelude, but I'd trade it in for a good wrist shot or the ability to do a backwards crossover!



Say it Ain't So!

My Team (Wings) against the Ice Gators

(yeah, I know, who's on the point?)



There are few things that can get in between hockey and I, and one of them came up this past Friday.  I was scheduled to give blood, so off I went to the blood mobile.  The appointment had been scheduled long before I knew I would be playing hockey that night, so I treated the appointment like I did when I was dating (whoever made the date with me first, I would go out with, even if a better date came along later - this is not to say that that I was in huge demand when I was dating, but a girl's got to have standards).  The clinic didn't open until 4:30, so playing hockey at 8:30 just wasn't going to work, thus I went to the game with John to watch him and my team play.

The league is comprised of six co-ed teams and is ranked as being for low to mid level players.  Since John is really good and I'm really quite bad, I figure that we even out to a mid level player.  Of course such reasoning only works when we're on the ice together, otherwise, when I'm out there without him .... well, let's just say, I'm trying my best.  The games, when I play, always appear to be fast-paced, now that may be that many of the games, we've been short players and I get pretty winded, pretty quickly.  When I'm sitting on the bench waiting for my shift, I'm watching the play and cheering on my team, actually a lot of the time, I'm watching John, mainly because he's so good, that he makes it look effortless and because he's my husband, so I think he's great anyway.

John (see he does look pretty good)

Well, back to this past Friday.  I went to our game, but would just be a spectator, but oh my goodness, what an eye opener!  The last game in I which I was simply a spectator, was Jamie's hockey finals when he was in grade 12.  Let me tell that 18 year old boys, playing full contact hockey at the single A level are much, much faster than a Co-ed league of 25 to 50 year olds, playing non contact at the low to mid level range.  The whole game seemed to be played in slow motion, it was almost painful to watch.  What was even worse, was to know that I was one of the slowest players on the team.  What did that mean?  Did I play hockey in some vacuum of the space/time continuum?  I was aghast, to know you're not very good is one thing, to know you're that bad is another.

To be completely honest, I have no idea if we won or lost that game.  More than likely, we lost, since that is generally what our team does in this league.  I watched the play unfold and was dismayed by how rarely our team passed (John is the exception to this rule, mainly because he gets too tired if he rushes end to end), how rarely we could take a pass (maybe that's why nobody passes) and how rarely we got off a shot on net (John's the exception when he shoots from the point).  All in all it was a pretty dismal showing.

After the game, we met up with some of our teammates in the bar for a pitcher of beer (or two).  The conversation flowed, with those that had played enthusiastically talking about how well the game went.  Were they talking about the game I just saw?  Wisely, I said nothing, going with the "if you can't say anything nice" ... method. 

But once I started thinking about the whole process, I concluded it really wasn't about the level of play.  There wasn't a single person out there who would ever reach any level of hockey greatness.  They were there enjoying the game, getting some exercise and more importantly, enjoying an evening out with like minded people.  All in all, a very successful evening.

I've decided to schedule my blood donations on non hockey days - seeing as it's far better to participate than watch - which if you think about it, is true about most things in life.

Hockey in the Family



Family Hockey Game - John on the left, Jamie in the Centre &

Me on the Right

If you look closely, I'm missing my Right Wing - I think they saw I was facing off,

put their stick down and left



Our whole family plays hockey, which can mystify non players, but makes total sense to us.   The family calendar is a mish mash of appointments, reminders and most importantly, hockey games.  A year or two ago, it was even worse, since Jamie was playing at a competitive level in Toronto, which meant two games a week, plus practice, plus training.  John or I were constantly ferrying him to one location or another.  Then when I started to play hockey, I asked Madie if she wanted to play hockey too, she was 13 and I was 46, since (like the rest of her family) she's tall, she was allowed to take Adult Hockey Level 1, what we lacked in skill, we made for in enthusiasm.  After a season of training, Madie joined a Girl's recreational House League, I joined a beginner Adult League and John, bless the man, volunteered to coach Madie's team.  Jamie was now (on occasion) dragged out to watch Madie play, as she had been dragged out for so many years (John was a single dad for many years) to watch Jamie play.

As a parent, with a child in competitive hockey, one of the happiest days is when they obtain their G2 driving license and can now drive unaccompanied to their hockey games.  Jamie loved the independence of having the car on his own, and we loved the fact that we didn't have to spend another evening in a cold arena.  Plus as the kids get older, their start times move later, Jamie's games in his final year of playing, usually started around 10 pm, which was when I was getting ready for bed!

Things are a tad calmer in our household these days.  Jamie's now away at University and has chosen to play in a contact intramural league.  He's responsible for keeping his schedule organized which frees up a lot of space on our calendar.  Right now John and I are playing on Tuesday and Friday nights in a co-ed league.  I play on woman's team on Sunday night.  Madie plays on Sundays and Mondays (with John coaching that night).  When people call our house and can't get an answer, they always assume we're out playing hockey, usually we are.

My Mother in Law (Mary Lou) and her son (John's Brother) Doug

she gets the hockey thing



All family events are planned around our hockey schedule.  Luckily most of our extended family plays hockey too and understands the priority that hockey takes in your life.  When John and I were married, we chose to have a family hockey game instead of having a rehearsal party.  Since is was a second marriage for both of us, we knew the routine of "I dos", hockey was more interesting (and more fun).   When we set dates for Thanksgiving dinner or Birthday parties, the first consideration is everybody's hockey schedule.  Madie is now working her first part time job, and suddenly, since her season starts today, has to consider how she'll balance, school, work and hockey.   The parent in me says that school comes first; the hockey maniac in me says that hockey comes first; luckily her employer has a son that plays hockey too, so he gets the vagrancies of a hockey schedule. 

At the end of the day, it's all a balancing act.  If you can't find me or reach me, look in at the local arena, I'm probably there!

To be Thankful

Canadian & American Military Personal Play Road Hockey

in Afghanistan

photo:  Vancouver Sun

The Thanksgiving long weekend is about to begin.  As I type this, Jamie, my stepson, is boarding a bus to make his way back home from his first month away at University.  A cheesecake is baking in the oven (his favourite), in a few hours I'll put a Prime Rib in the oven to roast, prepare some risotto (another favourite of his), and make a cauliflower/cheese bake.  I may or may not have enough time to enjoy all of that before I have to take off with John for our Co-ed hockey game tonight.  We even have a keg of Heineken chilling in John's draft system that he received for father's day.  After the game is over, John and I will forgo drinks with the team, in order to hurry back home to have a cold one with Jamie.  To sleep peacefully knowing that he's safe under our roof.  Right now, life is good.

I have so much to be thankful about.  I live in an incredible country that provides me with so much.  I spent a long time back packing amongst Europe and Northern Africa when I graduated from University.  I had a chance to see so many amazing places, but I was content to return to my home, I could recognize even in my youth, the quality of life that we as Canadians enjoy.  I've travelled to many countries and have always been proud to pronounce my nationality.   I'd like to say a big Thank You to our armed forces that helps to keep our country safe, and who represents us so well around the world.

I'm incredibly thankful for my family.  I'm married to a man I adore.  His wry sense of humour cracks me up time and time again.  I've got two step kids that have brought me into the realm of motherhood, (whether I was ready for it or not).  They amaze me with their ability to adapt to our new life together.  Of course they're teens that do stupid teen things (I did even more stupid things in my day), but they're respectful, do well in school and argue like an old married couple with each other (I call them Mr & Mrs Bickerson).  Then rounding out this motley crew is Guinness, who we rescued from a shelter just over two years ago.  He's a lab/sheppard mix, he's obsessed with tennis balls, but gives us all unmitigated love.

The Ross/Mooney Family

I'm also thankful for my extended family.  My mom and step dad are my biggest cheerleaders.  My mother in law is supportive, warm, caring and has been known to enjoy a glass (or two) of white wine with me on occasion (or two).  My brother whom I spent my teens despising, I eventually discovered is an intelligent and warm person, I even had the delight of playing hockey with him this summer.  Of course there are numerous friends, both old and new who occupy a significant role in my life.  I'm thankful that Neil, my ex husband and I managed to save our friendship out of the ashes of our marriage.

I'm thankful that I'm healthy (knees notwithstanding) and that my family is healthy too.

I'm thankful that I discovered hockey and thus met so many incredible people, plus it gives a whole new meaning to "date night" for John and I.

I'm thankful for the beautiful home that John and I built.  That we're safe and warm at night, that we have plenty to eat (too much at times), that we can take the kids or just ourselves and travel to interesting places.

I'm thankful that Mom and Tom survived their bouts with cancer and pray that my sister in law does too.

When I go to sleep tonight, it won't matter if we won or lost our hockey game.  What will matter, is that John and I were able to play a game that we both love, together.  That we'll have both kids sleeping safely under our roof tonight.  I'll lay in bed, listening to John and Guinness snore softly and know that I am blessed, and that I am thankful.