The Trifecta
Posted by jtbourne on January 27, 2009 · 3 Comments
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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.
I'm a hockey player turned writer. After playing for Alaska Anchorage in the WCHA (NCAA), I carried on with an NHL tryout (New York Islanders in 2007) before spending a couple seasons in the AHL/ECHL (last year was 2008-09). My father, Bob Bourne, won four Stanley Cups with the Islanders in the '80's, as did my fiancee's dad, Clark Gillies. I'm now the web editor for theScore's hockey blog "Backhand Shelf."
You always were the first one out there huh?! Except you’d get out there and turn right back around and say “Peeds were are the pills at?” And then I would laugh because you took my short name and made it even shorter and you had forgotten to grab the puck bucket on the way out of the door yet again! Good times man….good times.
Hahaha…. I did do that a lot. I’d like to make sure people realize that I called the pucks “pills’, and wasn’t a drug addict. PS, how gangster is your name on here and your email address, impressive. I’m gonna do a hip hop piece soon. I’ll need some input!
Hahaha…probably a good thing to point out to the uninformed about the pills! I did the P Deezy F. Baby because I knew you would get a chuckle out of it, I still think he is the root of the death of Rap music! As for the email address, it was made up in high school and pokes fun at a nick name my buddy gave me when they found out my mother’s madien name is Funk and also the licenses plate my 86 chevy astro van had in high school. The plate said CFUNK (my mom’s name is Connie) and my buddy started calling me Pfunk and the van the Pfunk Mobile. 2+2=stupid email address that hardly gets used anymore! And yes hit me up with any and all questions regarding your Hip Hop post…..you know I love talking about Hip Hop!