Howdy folks. Sorry I’ve been away. I’m finally reaching a stage of jaw-healing that allows me to function beyond the couch, so the bevy of blogs may temper a tad. Tomorrow I’ve been green-lighted to chew food and skate, two of the basic rights I assumed I was afforded under the Constitution of SpoiledWhiteCanadianKids, but those have recently been denied. This also allows me the opportunity to add something to my own constitution aside from skin, a skeleton, and tape. Sigh… tomorrow shall be a glorious day.
Two crucial things to do on my green light day…
Eat a Quarter Pounder w/ Cheese from McDonalds. I’ve been dying for a piece of red meat ever since I sat down for dinner on Christmas Eve and laid eyes on that perfectly done beef tenderloin with gravy and peppercorns and onion and oh-God-don’t-think-about-it. From there, an amalgamation of good advertising and location to my front door have down-graded my red meat fetish to a simple QPC. The textures. The ketchup. The disgusting feeling after. I’m going to destroy one of those things.
Not hurt myself trying to be a hero. One thing I truly love about being a hockey player is being the first player on the ice before a practice. It’s corny, but there really isn’t anything like a fresh sheet of smooth zamboni’d ice, knowing that your coach isn’t coming on for 20 minutes, and a bucket of pucks. The big rinks we play in are warm, and the air off the ice feels crisp on your face. When I was in my home rink (ie. slept well for once), there was no part of my job I enjoyed more. A couple strides, handle the puck, snap it high. Counter-clockwise skate. This is the mandatory lazy warm-up before coach steps on the ice at the exact second he said he would, and you have to start trying (with exceptions. Top 2 line guys don’t have to try in warm-up drills until they’ve earned the status of 3rd line guy, by not producing in 2 straight games). And so, with all that said, tomorrow I get to skate. Not with the team though, as my face is still extremely fragile, and the risk of getting hit with a stray stick or deflected puck is constant. So tomorrow morning, I’ll set out on my own to do my favourite thing about being a professional. I can just see me flying towards the net from the right side, snapping a puck as hard as I can at the net, hitting the crossbar and eating it as I skate towards it. Or falling. I haven’t been scared to fall since it was a possibility. This could be interesting.
I haven’ skated in 45 days and I haven’t eaten solid food in the same. The way I see it, I have at least double puke-tential tomorrow. I could skate, puke, then eat a QPC and do it again. I only hope I don’t end up at some bar with the guys after. Who knows? Maybe I can go for three.