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It's hockey playoff season


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I've played every position. 

I'm a bad defenseman, because I always played too forward.  And I wasn't fast enough to get back.

I played center,  but I was never that good.

I'm right-handed,  but I excelled at left wing.  I don't know why,  it was natural.  It messed some people off.

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My best goal was when there was a magnificent cluster-**** around the goal,

and the puck went into the big leather lip behind my skate.  Right behind my ankle.  And stuck there.

And some some big galoot smacked my whole body into the goal,  with the puck in my skate.  So it was a goal.

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I'm trying to think of the best of the best.  Hockey has those.

We once went to states!. 

But at something-thirty-am,  coach caught us at the hotel with cheerleaders and beer.

Then he woke us up an hour later and made us run laps around the hotel.

Then he benched us.

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I once nailed this long-white-haired kid (from Moon Township) (we hated them) (and this white-haired kid from the last last few years.  he was a wild-man).

I nailed him huge.  Right at center-ice.  So huge,  that you just look down at him, and skate off backwards.

It was a clean hit, but I got a penalty.

Later in that game,  some goon hit me sooooo hard....

My own team was laughing at me for being nowhere near the game.

I skated to the bench.  Sat, barfing, and gasping, and noticed...

that I was sitting on the other team's bench.  Right in the middle.  They were laughing their asses off.

Had to wait for a whistle.  Went to our bench.  They were laughing their asses off.

Mom took me to the hospital after a couple of games.  That might have been one.

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Why some of my toes are a little black:

The pond, two hills over,  we used to take our skates and sticks on the school bus, so we didn't even have to go home...

It was a crik-fed pond. 

The pond was solid-frozen,  except for that end where the crik came in.

There was a hole over there just big enough for the puck to go in.  So the puck went in.

One guy went over with his stick and poked-poked-poked it.  Then the next guy went over to poke.  Then the next guy.  Then we were all over there.

The ice broke and we all went to our waists in frozen.

Right at sunset.

Two hills over.

You can cry.  But Mom's used to it,  so she'll just blow you off.

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Not much else.

In high school, Ed was my defense.

We hated Moon.  Richland.  Hampton.  And many more.

With Ed,  the game wasn't over at the end of the timeclock.  It went into the parking lot.

Ed liked to fight.  And every high school hockey kid ever borned.

In the parking lot.

When your Mom's would say, "Go there now before your hair freezes!"

I wasn't a fighter.

And high school hockey players don't give a **** if their hair freezes.

Now,  Ed,  "c'mon Ed!"....

No.  Three big guys from the other school.

All we had to do was fluster.

Ed did the rest.

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I feel sorry for kids that never played on a frozen pond.

All they know are those fancy indoor rinks and they can have their skates sharpened every 30 minutes and Mom is there to make sure the game doesn't get too rough.

We played pond hockey.

No smooth ice anywhere.

It cost $2 to get your skates sharpened at the skate shop -- assuming there was enough blade left to sharpen.

Hand-me-down skates six sizes too big and you wore four pair of wool socks.

No boards.

When you got checked it was into a snowbank.

Game had to be delayed when the puck was shot into the woods.

Most fun we ever had.

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