Eventhough I lived in Minnesota for 7 years, I've never played hockey. I should correct myself a bit--I've never played ice hockey. I have however played the always fun and injury prone american version called floor hockey. About the only skill the two have in common is hacking of which I am rather fond.

I decided to give hockey a try. Mainly because my friend Paul had invited me to play on his team. He also invited our friend (and boss) Carl to play. I was extremely hesitant to play though.

You see, Paul has been playing since he was in high school and Carl was practically born with skates on his feet. But, after watching a Taz Devils summer league game I was convinced that I should give it a go. From what I could see of them and the overinflated image I had of my own hockey skills, I thought for sure I wouldn't embarrass myself. I was horribly wrong.

Aside from a shiny new pair of size 12 Nike Ignite hockey skates and a stick I had no equipment. And, if you have priced sporting equipment for any of the other major sports lately, you would know hockey is by far the most expensive. Not only does the equipment cost a lot of dough...but the season cost is $400. With team jerseys I was going to shell out at least a grand to play.

Before I was going to drop dime one though I wanted to be sure I was going to "make the team". I now know that no matter what the league administrators weren't going to refuse my money, but I thought there was a chance that I wouldn't be allowed to play. It is this thought that lead to many sleepless nights of worry and millions of nervous butterflies the day of the tryouts.

The tryouts were held at The Edge ice arena in Bennsenville at 9:55pm on a Thursday. Had I known what was going to happen that night I would have taken the next day off work.

I got there early and soon after Carl showed up. He and I loomed around the lobby waiting for a sign of a league administrator. As other candidates showed up the scene got extremely stressful. Until one of the more extroverted ones decided to take matters into his own hands and interrupt the ongoing captains meeting to ask, "When the hell are we getting a locker room?".

I was so nervous I couldn't hold the pen to sign the "break your neck and you can't sue" form.

We finally got in to the locker room and I scouted a far corner as my suit up area. I had tried the stuff on the night before but it took me three times to figure out the correct order. As I rifled through the bag of borrowed bits and pieces (thanks Paulie) I looked around the room at the other candidates. Everyone of them seemded to be unphased by the jigsaw puzzle that they had in their hockey bags. I on the other hand was a clueless wreck!

I was sweating profusely by the time I finished lacing up my skates for the second time. I'm not sure if it was the strain of pulling the laces or the butterflies in my stomache but I was leaking like a New York waiter.

Okay, so I got all of the equipment on and I was out of the locker room. All of the other candidates used this time to do strange stretching activities that I was sure if I tried would only make me look like more of an ass.

Carl used this time to befriend the tallest fittest looking guy in the bunch who talked about the time he spent in the juniors and how he was really out of shape. If that guy is out of shape, I'm in big trouble.

As the Zamboni left the ice Carl and that guy opened the door to the ice and they were on their way around the rink for their first of what would be many warmup laps.

That guy was doing all of these crazy footwork moves and Carl was giving it his best too as I watched at the door. After some heckling from the 45 other candidates behind me to take the ice (I was blocking the only open door) I got up the nerve to step on to the ice.

I didn't get one stride in before I hit the deck. I was on the ice, flat on my face with 47 guys flying by me pointing and laughing. Needless to say this did little for my self confidence. But, I got up my nerve and rose to my skates for another crack at it.

Again, I was down. I knew I sucked at hockey but, I thought I could skate more than ten feet without falling. Evidentally, I was wrong. Because when I rose for the third time I fell again. This time there were tears.

So, I'm laying at center ice crying as my wife and friend look on from the stands. My tears were melting the ice as I was face down. I was playing ostrich. I figured if I couldn't see the others, they couldn't laugh at me.

Everything went through my mind from, "Are my skate too sharp?" to some voice saying, "SKAYGARRR". It was voice that woke me from the self-pittying coma I was in. And, when I looked up there he was pointing at my skate he said one word, "Skateguard".

You see, I left only one of my soakers on my left skate. I guess in all the confusion I forgot to take it off. I'll never forget again.

I skated to the bench after pulling off that f*****g soaker and stuffing it in my jock. Almost everyone was laughing. Those who weren't wanted to.

When I was on the bench pretending to relace my skates Carl came over to ask, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"You mean you didn't see me flailing around at center ice? Come on?"

To this day he swears he didn't see me fall--three times. But, I know he just said that at the time to make me feel better.

I skated away from the bench without incident. In fact I was growing more and more confident as I skated. That's when I noticed that there was a girl on the ice.

It was hard to miss her as she was wearing a Colorado Avalanche uniform with a long brown curly pony tail sticking out from under her helmet. The number on the jersey was 27 and the name read RUSSELL.

Pete the league administrator blew the whistle for everyone to gather around and do some sort of roll call. It seems that they need to match your name with your jersey number and color so they can properly evaluate you. As always in my life my name was called first and butchered badly. I raised my hand to a bunch of snickers from the crowd.

About half way down the list Pete called out, "Russell. Kerri Russell" and my eyes lit up.

I said looking at her, "Hey Carl, that girl is named Kerri Russell just like that Felicity girl."

She responded by nudging the guy next to her and saying, "Lokk, the guy who can't is making a joke."

And that's when the last iota of self confidence left my body.

It was one of the worst nights of my life, but I didn't quit.



My skates No practice The locker room The pregame chat Hit the ice Talk to Carl Kerry Russell The scrimmage The A team