Breakfast Club: Week 8

It's amazing what a little sunshine will do for your outlook on life.

Here I was, feeling all sorry for myself, seeing as I've missed the past three weeks of Breakfast Club. But today is the fourth day in a row of sunshine, which is a welcome change to our typical dreary Michigan winter. Speaking of sunshine, it was so good to see everyone this morning! How are you? It's been ages. You're looking good this morning! Why, thank you. You're welcome. Would you like to carry the puck? Well, no, thank you, you can do it. No, no, really, I insist, you can carry the puck. Are you sure? Yes, please, go right ahead. Here, let me pass it to you... Poor Courtney, was stuck with a directionally-impaired passing partner. Luckily, she was feeling too depressed to clock me a good one. You boys will have to wait until maybe next week to see if there's a girl fight.

Not that there's that many weeks left in this session. Here we are, in week number eight with two weeks left in the winter session, and it would seem that everyone now believes themselves to be in the advanced group. Such progress in my absence!

Me? I feel like I've been backsliding. I gotta get my drill screw-ups crisper, they were kinda lame this morning. So were Brad's. I mean, if you're gonna try to clean off the ice, at least make sure you get all the patches, geesh.

Now, if we could only all do cross-over starts and stops like Todd. I never knew he had moves like that. I think he's vying for a spot on Hockey Dancing with the Stars.

I still haven't managed to make it to the Wednesday class. Seeing as we can make up missed classes by attending either-or session, I think I see a couple of Wednesday opportunities in the next two weeks that I had better take advantage of. Which means Martha won't have anywhere to hide.

Breakfast Club: Week 3

Geesh, a girl gets a concussion at her game on the night before Breakfast Club, misses two weeks, and everyone starts getting on my case.

it's good to be missed :)

So, apparently last week y'all were dragging each other around like middle-aged sacks of potatoes? My injured patellar tendon is glad I missed that. Not so glad that I missed the Breakfast Club, though, and even more dismayed at the number of passes I missed this morning. You'd think I'd have better mastered the fine art of actually keeping that doggoned little rubber disc on my stick by now. Although, I have to admit, I think I disappointed Joe with how few times I actually screwed things up. Come to think of it, I do recall seeing him looking nervously over his shoulder during the four corner passing drill, seeing as I was the only player who actually 'got' the drill. A sure sign of the coming Apocalypse, my friends, repent ye whilst thou can!

"Form a square on the circle," Lyle barked, but then he paused when he wanted the third square to have five points instead of four. It's a good thing Lyle's got other marketable job skills besides his mastery of fourth-grade geometry, because otherwise he'd be begging for Tim Horton's coffee on the streets somewhere.

Speaking of people (besides me) who need to hang onto their day job because they'd otherwise starve as a hockey player, what exactly was up with that stop-n-go passing drill? I think we collectively managed to redefine that drill ten ways to tomorrow, none of those ways being terribly close to what Lyle and Joe had envisioned. So on to plan B, where we broke in to separate groups and worked on some more passing drills. Give-n-go, head's up, on the tape, on the ice. Simple to say, but oh so nuanced when you're doing it.

No Club is complete without some friendly beating up, and the last ten minutes of class are what Martha lives for in case she hasn't told any of you yet. Two on two, whichever pair scores first gets bragging rights. A sweaty good flogging was had by all.

I still haven't scouted the Wednesday group like I said I would, perhaps next week I'll double-up my classes and go to both the Wednesday and Thursday class to make-up for my two weeks on the pathetic... I mean, "injured reserve" ... list. So until next week, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal!

Breakfast Club, Winter 2010: Week 1 with Laura

OK. Admit it. You missed me, right? I know I sure missed me. I just wasn't "me" without being here at the Breakfast Club. Luckily for me, not only did it just feel right coming back, but the gods blessed my return by leaving me the dollar bill that I found right next to my car when I got out of the rink. Either that, or someone was trying to bribe me to go away.

Some things changed, while others remained the same. In the pleasant surprises department, there are eight sisters of the ice in the Thursday session! Seeing as there were about two dozen participants, that gets the chicks-to-dudes ratio approaching 1:1. Will wonders never cease? I will scout the Wednesday class next week and will report back on the X-to-Y chromosome distribution for that session.

But some things never change. Like Joe quietly reminding me that there hasn’t been anyone around who screws up the drills quite the way I do. Or Lyle explaining to the class that the Breakfast Club is all about getting better, and that he’ll never make an example out of anyone... other than me. Yep, feeling the love all the way around, from the parking lot gods to the coaching staff.

So what did we do this week, anyway? Let’s see: we warmed up with some open ice lane “moves”. Then split off into groups and had some small area game situations. Some paired-up one-on-ones to the slot, to the boards. A little of this, a little of that, all with a more or less common theme of how to gain the advantage in one-on-one situations. Both offensively and defensively. Which we got to put into practice at the end with some full ice one-on-one battles. Courtney and I used the class to have some fun beating up on each other. Seeing as we’ve gotta pretend to cooperate on our travel team, it’s always good to turn the tables and compete against ourselves.

I didn’t get a chance to beat up on Brad this week, though. Good thing there’s nine more weeks. So many boys to taunt, and so little time... sigh...

So, if you haven’t signed up yet, there’s still time. And if you have already signed up, I’ll see you on the ice. Keep your head up and your eyes on the goal!

Breakfast Club Spring - Week 4 with Laura

Note to self: celebrating Cinco de Mayo is best left to persons (a) not of German and Belgian heritage (such as myself), and (b) much younger (such as not myself). Dang diggy dang, hockey fans, my pads were dragging this morning. Speaking of hockey fans, I shall forego any mention of the Red Wings having been robbed, I tell you, cruelly and mercilessly robbed, during last night's game. Nope, not gonna mention it at all.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, now I remember where I was: on my keester most of the class. Like falling in the open ice, no one pressuring me, nothing, just "whoopsie!" tripping over the blue line during the warm-up drill. I could hear the announcer, "... and now, for the entertainment portion of our program ..." At least, I think it must have been the announcer talking in my head. All those voices can sometimes get confusing.

You will notice that nothing was blogged last week or the week prior. Or maybe you didn't notice but I'll explain anyway. OK, two weeks ago I missed class due to (ahem) some things like work and my kids. Honestly, why my son had to turn fourteen on that morning is beyond me. I thought he was raised with better manners. I need to talk to his father about that. And last week, well, yeah, I did show up to class and I had every intention of blogging, but (ahem) that job thing got in the way. But, I'll have you know, at least one of the members of the blogger team is attentive to her duties, unlike some people who shall remain nameless but his initials are Kirk Swarbrick.

What did Lyle and Joe try to stuff into our thick noggins this morning, anyway? Well, here's the Cliff's Notes version:
> don't over-handle it
> keep your head up
> use your wrists
> get your hands away from your body
> feel it don't look at it

Hmmm, sounds like a good practice. And indeed it was. Despite being the human Zamboni more than I normally am, I managed to work on some quick-release passing, some stop-n-go evasive moves (I like to call it the "jet ski" move), some carrying the puck and passing and moving in for the rebound, and some game-situation passing and getting open. Then there was the longing gazes into my teammates eyes as we performed transition sideways eights with and without the puck. And, of course, the real reason I show (nearly) every week, there were some good laughs with good friends, and I managed to do at least one thing a little less horribly than I did the day before. So it's all good. Now, if I can only get my post-Cinco headache to subside and get my eyes to focus with less difficulty, that "it's all good" can be upgraded to a "yea-ah, it's all good." Either way, I'll see you next week. I promise. And I'll try not to be so wiped out. Until then, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal.

Breakfast Club Spring - Week 1 With Laura

My my my! It's been four weeks since I played hockey. Where did the time go? I missed the last week of the winter session of the Breakfast Club. Have I mentioned lately how that pesky job keeps interfering with my hockey priorities? And then there was spring break vacation with the family. Ho hum, yes, I suppose that the cabana boy was dutiful enough with my pina coladas (ahem, my ice is melting...) but there was nary a rink to be seen for miles and you can only lie around languidly soaking in the sun for so long before your mind melts, too.

So, indeed, I was itching to be back on the ice. Starting the spring session this morning scratched all those good places.

But before I thrill you with the torrid details of this morning, we need to bid a fond farewell to Courtney Welch, who is moving out and off to work for "the" USA Hockey in Colorado. Wow! Chica done good, eh? And remember Sara? She's doing well in D.C. She found some ice and has been rocking between the pipes as goalie.

Anyway, back to today.

I got to the rink early. "How early, Laura?" you ask? "Early" early I tell you... well, early for me, like 5:45 instead of my typical 5:59:59. To avoid any further quibbling, let us just all agree that I was there on a timely basis, shall we? And, lo and behold, my punctuality was rewarded: I was greeted by the ever cheerful Kevin, who personally welcomed me back and escorted me down the hall as he unlocked my private padded cell -- I mean, the girls' designated locker room. Gosh, what a pleasant charming young man, treating his elders with such care and concern. And, best of all, no, he did not call me ma'am.

Lyle seems to have gotten over his "no coffee on the ice" vow. Was that something he gave up only for the holy days? Hmmm, I must investigate and report back in a future edition. It would seem that any coffee consumed by the coaching staff must have been laced with a foreign substance, however, seeing as it induced amnesia in Scott who swears he didn't see nuthin' nuh uh no way. But Kirk said that was the second time he's seen Lyle "lose his composure" while demonstrating how to skate like me.

I'm blaming it on Joe Jones, just in case you're wondering. What? Why, the colors of the jerseys, of course. Joe wasn't there this morning, and heaven knows both Lyle and Scott begged ignorance, so since Joe wasn't there to defend himself, we'll lay responsibility for the wardrobe selection at his feet. Can you say "marshmallow peeps"? I guess it fits, though, becuz we is the hahkay peeeps doncha knowit...

I promised the other token female (who shall remain nameless until she confirms it's OK for me to "name" her here in this blog) that I'd post a link to the world's bestest mostest amazingest chick hockey info site in the world, that being my site, www.hockeymoms.org. If you are a female or fan of females, go there to see all of the places around town that have women-only hockey teams and leagues.

Not that I would trade my boyfriends for chicas. I would never say that in public. No, I love all you guys like ... like ... like a bunch of guys who play hockey with grace and good humor. Why, where else could so many of you blush simultaneously when Lyle explained our yellow versus purple drill with the admonishment against making certain moves from certain angles. Brad and Kirk, you know what I'm talking about, don't make me spell it out for you.

So much sarcasm, so little time. Until next week, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal.

Back to the Breakfast Club with Laura

What week is this? Where have I been? Who am I? Where am I? Am I sounding like John Stockdale? Are any of you even old enough to remember who John Stockdale was?



Geesh, a girl stops blogging for a few (OK, more than just 'a few') weeks, and she gets razzed at the club. Which must mean that you really do read this! Sniff, sniff, golly gee, I'm feeling all sentimental, gosh, you really do love me, really you do :)

So where have I been? Well, I've missed two weeks, and one week I went to the Wednesday class instead of Thursday's class. Scott and Lyle were there on that Wednesday. Tom. Donny. Hmmm, but no Kirk. Not that I was terribly "there" even though I was there, so who am I to judge? Either way, I can't possibly remember what we did two weeks ago, so I won't pretend to recount my adept moves and awesome wicked skills. I'll leave that to your imagination.

This week I was at my regularly-scheduled Thursday class. So was Martha. And Olga. No Fiona, though. Duncan was my date, girl friends, don't tell Fiona that he was making passes at me while poor Fiona is nursing her likely blown ACL. Yes, today's class was about passing. Cross ice, give 'n go, tic toc, ba da bing ba da bang. Joe and Lyle kept us going, going, going. Doggone, I was a sweaty mess. Happy, grinning from ear to ear, but yes quite the mess.

Speaking of messes, what was up with my non-existent wrist shot? Hmmm, let's see: I don't use my wrists, I don't start releasing the puck until it's two feet in front of me, my bottom hand is too high... did I miss something? Why, yes, I did miss something: the net. Nonetheless, a goodly many of the hearty cohorts did just fine with our round-robin shooting drill. The one-on-ones are always fun, too. Up and around, make the defensive play near the blue line, offensively your 'win' was to get a shot off in the danger zone. Then, just like the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland, 'new puck! new puck!' and the play continues in front of the net, with the defender trying to take away the pass while the offensive player's goal was to get open and make good use of the pass from the corner from the coach.



Are you sweaty enough yet? Good, so let's do some cross overs. Forwards five or a thousand times in one direction, then the other. Then backwards. "Lyle, I'm dizzy." "Yes, you are."



What week is it again? I dunno, but at least it isn't the next-to-last week, that's all I know. Which means a few more weeks until spring season, when I can do this all over again.



So why do I keep pushing that boulder up the hill, you might ask? Because each week, I get a little better, that's why. Heaven forbid that I am forever doomed to play like I played last week or last month or last year. It might not be as noticable as it was when I first started out with hockey oh those nearly six years ago, but I can still see myself getting better. Or stinking less worse. Take your pick. Since we're in the peak of pothole season, all I can say is I don't like being in a rut, and the Breakfast Club is the patching crew of life. Toss down a little cold tar and aggragate, pat it down slightly, and start driving on it. Don't dwell on the hole that you just left behind, focus on the road ahead and plan for a little smoother sailing. Yeah, that's it! So until the next time that I get around to writing something, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal.

Breakfast Club with Laura - Winter Session Day One

It’s the start of a new year, and the start of a new session of the Breakfast Club. By a strange twist of fate, Kirk and I are no longer in class together. I’ve heard that this separation has been very hard on Kirk, and so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind him about me because the poor boy just might bust out … crying? Heck no, more like giggling maniacally. Bwah ha ha ha ha! You know the sound…

Speaking of sounds, I think I heard the sound of the angels singing. Laaaaaa! Due to some scheduling issues, I was going to have to miss this session of the BC entirely, and I was understandably bummed out. But then it seems that some phone calls were made, favors called in, I’m not sure if any incantations were uttered but I did hear there was a sacrifice offered to powers of Tim Horton’s coffee. In any event, Breakfast Club is now running Wednesdays and Thursdays at Suburban Farmington 6am-7:30am, and Thursdays at Rochester Onyx 6:30am-8am. If you were sitting on the fence waiting to see what was gonna happen with the Tuesday class, well, didn’t you read the part I just wrote about the sacrifice to the hockey gods? The Tuesday class has been reincarnated as the Thursday class. Which, seeing as all the chicks are enrolled in the Thursday class, it would seem the Thursday class was reincarnated with all of the higher life forms.

For our first week back, accounting for the hideous weather and the rearranging of schedules, it wasn’t too surprising that we were a little light on turn out. Scott used that opportunity to go back to bed, leaving poor Joe to fend for himself with the bunch of us. We tried to be good little hockey players. We couldn’t have misbehaved too badly, because Joe indulged our request to beat each other up towards the end with a little tag-in chase the rabbit. Two players go in, and whoever gets the puck first has the option of trying to score right away or of tagging in a team mate waiting outside the blue line to create a 2-on-1. If the defender gains possession, he similarly has the option of trying to score or of tagging-in a second defensive (now offensive) team mate. So it could be a 1-on-1, 1-on-2, 2-on-1 or 2-on-2, depending on the situation and the decisions that were made. Because there is no such thing as “just like in practice” when you get to the game. Every situation is a little different, and so being able to make better decisions is the best skill to hone. We can only tweak so much more out of our aging bodies, strength and speed-wise, but at least some of us still have some brain cells firing. Use all of the tools in the toolkit.

Not that anyone was in need of some Mr. Fix-It repairs. Yes, there were a few human Zamboni moments, like doing the tight turns and losing an edge. Hmmm, where did I leave my inside edge? Must be around here somewhere... Tight turns toward the boards when you’re evading a defender creates a natural barrier between the puck and your opponent. That barrier being, your big ol’ posterior. Of course, to do a tight turn well, you need to use both skates, not just the inside edge of your outside skate. So we practiced turning just on one edge. First inside edge of the outside skate, and then the outside edge of the inside skate. It’s amazing what happens when your upper body cooperates, directionally, if you’re trying to do the outside edge-only turns. And, conversely, how an uncooperative upper body will harpoon your best-intentions of thinking you’re gonna turn.

I’m sure I could go on and on and on and on and on and on and on… (slap!) OK, so enough of me blabbering. Get your duff to the rink, and see you on the ice. In the meantime, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal.