Adult in Training

Hockey rinks soothe me.  It’s sort of hard to explain, because a lot of the time they are loud, and filled with crazy parents and usually a healthy smattering of “Rink Rats” – those children who never really seem to leave the arena.  And loud crowds usually have the opposite of a calming effect on me.  But not in an arena.

There’s something almost magical about the way that they are all basically the same.  I mean, not literally, obviously.  But there’s something soothing to me, in the underlying patterns.  It’s almost like a dance.  If it were a dance, it would be the only one I know.  Being in a rink, even if I’m not playing, always washes me with a feeling not dissimilar to a coming home.  Of being in exactly the right place.

I miss hockey.  Some days more than others.  Never more than when I’m in a rink, watching other people play the game I love.  It’s a rough game, and it can easily get ugly.  It’s a fast game, and if you’re not paying attention, you can miss things very easily.  It can easily be over-simplified down to putting the puck in the net.  But it’s so much more than that.  And it’s the unfolding majesty that I see every time I watch a game. 

I remember how it used to feel when I was playing.  The manic-calm that I would find when facing down a two-on-one.  The hidden strength to move a girl twice my size from in front of the net so my goalie could see the shot.  The surprised fear when I found the puck unexpectedly on my stick, while the other team rushed down on me.  I remember how it felt to be a part of something so much more than myself.  How it felt to watch all the small, intricate pieces fell into place as my team claimed victory in an upset.  How exhausted I felt after a gruelling shift, while at the same time impatient to be out on the ice again.  Part of the dance again.

All that never really goes away.  And all that is what I miss when I stand in a rink.  Any rink.  Because all those memories, the ones that are so real they’re almost like an extra limb, they’re what makes all rinks the same.  They’re the reason why I watch games quietly, soaking it all in.  The reason why I love to to watch, but hate to watch at the same time.  Because in the end, I’m still just watching, and not dancing.