It was the final shot I took in practice. And sure, for a first-time goalie, making the save was gratifying, but it's not what left the lasting memory.
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Last Friday, I suited up in goalie gear and stood in during the Bonnyville Jr. A Pontiacs practice – and survived.
Of course, this all happened because of a lost wager with “The voice of the Pontiacs” Robb Hunter, but more than that, this was an opportunity for me, an arguably young, potentially blossoming journalist to channel my inner Irwin “Fletch” Fletcher and truly become the story.
The loss of a bet is almost never a good thing, but the thought of standing in a crease — I don't care how much padding I'm given — and facing hard rubber discs blasted towards me by full-time junior hockey players and coaches can be downright terrifying.
However, being the keen correspondent I am, as my day of reckoning approached, the fear subsided, while my intrigue and interest in the inner workings of a Junior A hockey team began to rise to the forefront.
You see, for me, growing up I had only ever played what they call house hockey — a fun, less competitive brand of Canadian hockey. But I have always been interested in how the more competitive sports programs operate —hence my attraction to sports journalism.
So I took my love for learning and bourgeoning ability to figuratively wear several hats — including literally, in this case, a goalie helmet — and showed up to Pontiacs practice the afternoon of Nov. 11.
My first lesson — no shoes in the Pontiacs dressing room — at least not for players, which is what I am at that point.
I leave the dressing room, remove my fancy footwear and re-join the team inside.
With plenty of time before practice, I decide to do some stretching, as was suggested by head coach and former WHL goalie Chad Mercier.
Being my first time in net, I then seek out advice from real Pontiacs goalies Dylan Wells and Curtis Honey on how to dress myself.
The goalie cup, the most important piece of equipment, goes on first. No help needed with that one. Then pants go on, then skates, pads, upper-body gear, jersey, gloves and finally helmet. No problems there.
Practice starts with a short skate-around. Here comes the first problem. I am dreadfully out of shape. One lap around the rink and the sweat starts flowing.
Second problem — knowing what to do next.
As the team gathers around Mercier for instructions on the opening drill, I slide into the back row and pay close attention as though I was part of the team.
Oh, before the first drill, Mercier provides me with three or four warm-up shots — all near my head.
The first drill includes players come flying down the sideboards, cutting to the net and letting shots rip.
Success finally as I make a save. The bonus is each player sprays me with snow, as they go from full-speed to dead stop inches from my face, cooling me down following the excruciating skate-around to begin practice.
After almost two hours of drills, the practice is finally close to being over.
But first Mercier has a talk with his team.
He tells his players they have control over one thing — how hard they work, compelling them to come out hard the next night against St. Albert.
The players would go on to follow through, working hard and getting the win over the Steel, but Mercier took issue with his team's ability to score after Friday's practice.
“I think it affected them a lot,” he said after Saturday's game, “Because there were some chances (against St. Albert) where we didn't really bear down like we should, after those same shots were going in for us pretty easily during practice.”
Mercier ends the practice with some free ice time for his players, while he and associate coach Ryan Pollock take a few extra shots on me.
It comes down to another wager — can someone say gambling problem?
Make eight of 14 saves and the coaches owe me a nice cold beverage. Let eight in and I owe them.
I had seven saves as Mercier steps up to the last puck.
Fatigue sets in, my arms are like jelly, and I can barely raise my gloves high enough to cover the top corners.
He skates towards me, fakes the shot once, twice, three times and he has me going down.
Then, as I descend into the butterfly position, Mercier winds up for the potential winner.
The shot comes straight towards me at about knee height. But as I go down, it becomes thigh-height, then groin-height, and then it hits me, just before it becomes waist-height.
I make the save and go down in a heap.
All I can say is, “thank you goalie cup.”
