a great photo of Ellarae

Ellarae,
my 14-year-old hero.

8 July 2000
Decided to go to the 10:15p - 11:45p Stick Time session in Oakland instead of the 11:00a - 12:00p Skate & Shoot in San Mateo yesterday. I liked not having to share the ice with people who were just there for pickup last time, and the late night slot fit my schedule better.

Well, one out of two ain't bad. Turned out that so many people showed up for pickup that a bunch of serious players took over the Olympic rink for a game as well. One of the guys asked me if I wanted to play, but I declined with the excuse that my skating wasn't very strong. He replied, "Well, you've got to learn somehow." I appreciated the encouragement, but I think the real message was, "You might as well join us, 'cause we're going to be taking up the whole surface."

Emery, the guy who teaches lessons in Oakland, was working with a girl named Ellarae when the coup happened, and he echoed the other guy's sentiments to her: "Well, they're not supposed to be doing this, but since it doesn't look like we're going to be able to stop them, you have a choice: we can reschedule your lesson, or you and me can play." I figured two nervous newbies might be able to draw courage from one another, so I said to Ellarae, "I'll play if you'll play." She agreed.

Ellarae turned out to be a very good skater—she'd taken up hockey after deciding that her figure skating career wasn't going anywhere. She also turned out to be 14 (making me more than twice her age). Either she was pretty mature, or I haven't grown up yet, because to me we felt like peers. We were definitely the least-experienced players on the ice, but I had fun flying around, and I think she did, too. That is, until she was completely flattened by accidental contact—from her coach, of all people. Emery was worried that her parents, watching from the stands, looked a bit unnerved, but Ellarae recovered well. (We found out later that her parents were more amused than alarmed.)

There seemed to be an equal number of jerks and nice guys on the ice; a guy in red socks and a white jersey got my vote as the biggest asshole. Before the game even got started he stole the puck I was working with (no way he didn't know it was mine—it was labeled). It took me a while to get it back because he spent the next few minutes shooting it against the boards. Then, during the game, he couldn't seem to keep his stick down. He was the only one on the ice regularly carrying his stick at shoulder height, which led to several stick-and-face-cage tangles. He also seemed way too eager for body contact. I steered clear of him whenever possible.

At the opposite end of the spectrum was one of the goalies, who offered me both encouragement and constructive criticism ("You're doing great. Just remember to keep both hands on your stick—you want to be in ready position at all times."). Now that I think of it, the fact that we had three goalies on the Olympic surface is probably a good indication of how popular the pickup game on the NHL surface was. Anyway, I thought my stickhandling was particularly sucky last night, so I'm going to take the goalie's advice when I practice tomorrow and try to keep two hands on my stick at all times.

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