RHR

After watching the first period of the Bruins at the downfall of my office, or as it is formally known the new 99 they built at the top of the street. Put it this way, they have been open a month and I already know all the bartenders by name and was even invited to a Christmas party by one. Drinking problem? Yeah, whatever. Anyhow, I watched the first and came home to a lovely ham prepared by MOL before she went to the germ factory. So, I’m eating my ham and enjoying a Woodford Reserve on the rocks and checking e-mail. The first one I came across was from a group called Road Hockey Rumble. These guys have a show debuting on OLN tomorrow night, and judging by the trailer, it looks not only hilarious, but right up any Goonblog reader’s alley.

I loved road hockey as a kid. We would play for hours on end. Our neighborhood was KISS, and the guys a few streets were Queen. Nets were made of wood and chicken wire, and equipment was old hand me down stuff that had worn out on the ice. KISS always had better goalie equipment as my father was the equipment manager for the local youth program. As such, we had a ton of goaltender equipment to use for our epic battles. I was always the goaltender. I imagined myself as Tom Barrasso playing in the old Aud. Why? Well, considering he played for our arch rival Acton Boxboro, played for the dreaded Sabres at the time, and was a general asshole by all accounts. I really am not sure. I was always Barrasshole and the older kids could never score on me. I was always the youngest, and it drove them crazy they couldn’t beat me.

I think because I was a Vezina winning road hockey goalie, and because I was so much younger than the other kids, there would always be fights. The guys would get frustrated because they couldn’t beat the kid, and would eventually take a hack at me. The rest of the guys on my team, particularly my brother, would take exception to the extra curricular activity on their young goalie, and there would be a fight. They would always break down into line brawls, goalies included. I could hold my own when the fights started, but they would always escalate when the guys on my side would see someone tangling with me. Again, maybe it was because I was younger and littler, or maybe it was because there is an innate need for hockey players to protect their goalie. Whatever the reason, the fights would always bubble way over when I was involved.

Those road hockey games was where my love of the game really grew. I learned many a valuable lesson out there on the hard scrabble streets of West Concord. In the old days in the street, and the old days on the ice, it can be summed up best by one quote. Hockey ain’t hockey without a dukking match.