Fifty years ago, or so, I was hockey mad. (Now with the NHL starting up a new team or two every year in towns with more than 50 people, with the occasional lockout, and multi-million dollar salaries, I’m just mad at hockey.)
But back when I was 10 years old, I would go to a small village not far from our farm and play hockey in a unique arena the community there made each year. It was located in a big old livery stable (for younger readers, a shed where horses were parked) across from a church. The floor had been cemented and boards had been put up around the surface to resemble a real rink. There was no ice-making equipment so everyone was completely dependent on the temperature to determine whether or not there would be skating and hockey.
For some reason, I wanted to be a goalie (fewer bodychecks that way), so I got stuck in one of the nets where I would stop pucks as best I could all afternoon. These pucks were coming off the sticks of guys my age and all the way up to almost twice my age, so some of them could really let them fly. But never fear, I was well equipped.
I wore a flimsy little white helmet (one of the first) with no face mask. I had a pair of shin pads, but nothing else. No hockey pants, and no jock. In retrospect, a jock might have been a nice thing to have but I think I escaped any serious groinal injuries. A worse problem were the skates we wore back then. Made of leather, the toes were completely soft. So when a speeding puck landed on the toe of the skate, a young boy, no matter how brave (or stupid) might be inclined to feel some pain. Feel it, but never show it.
The most important thing in the world was to show those older boys how tough I was. I think I also wore an old pair of leather hockey gloves. To recap: no mask, no jock, no hockey pants, no chest protector, no neck guard, no elbow pads, soft-toed skates. Yup, nothing could go wrong there. My life was probably, literally, on the line.
But those games might have been the most fun I’ve ever had. Certainly, the biggest thrill.
The rink isn’t made any more and I think the livery stable might have been torn down a few years ago. The kids play in fancy arenas now and the young goalies are suited with armor that the best pro goalies in the world would have drooled over in my day.
But today I was talking to some teenagers about their hockey experiences – and livery stable or not – they have just as much fun as I ever did. Or more. Best game in the world, wherever and however it’s played.
©2013 Jim Hagarty
