The Real and Ideal

Some Wierd Destruction

It's on nights like these when I think I have a lot to blog about, but then I get on and I'm just like "I don't want to think about this anymore, let alone write about it." Everything's all over the place anyway. But I somehow feel obligated to.

I just feel our team falling apart. Little piece by peice. Every night it's like another part is torn away, drifting away like a rose petal in the wind.

I was sitting in the locker room after the game taking my equipment off. The coach came in. He said something. Probably about how we worked hard, but we just weren't finishing. How we're gonna work on that in practice tomorrow.

Then it was something about how the teams in the past had the fire that we don't seem to have. They were tough, and they were tough enough to fight for it. At this point I agreed with them inside my head. He mentioned the word "wussies." I can take that. I think.

But just because we're nice doesn't mean we don't have drive. That we "don't give a damn." I'm lost.

Where the hell was my drive tonight? Where was the fire? The adrenaline when I start heading up the ice or when I drive someone off the puck... nothing. I don't like this feeling of discontent with my playing. I don't see why anyone would.

It's not like back in u12's, he said, when everyone brought treats and had sleepovers. That was fun. This isn't now.

At this point, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world he was talking about. Are we not supposed to have fun? Or are we just not supposed to be pansies? u12's was fun, yes. But just because we had fun doesn't mean we didn't beat all the opposition with a stick.

It's fun to kick the other team's ass, he went on.

Yes, this is true. HOCKEY IS FUN. SKATING is fun. SHOOTING is fun. ACCOMPLISHMENT is fun. DOING SWEET MOVES is fun.

What should be more fun than it is right now:
-walking into the arena in your letter jacket
-running onto the ice
-getting your name announced
-listening to the National Anthem
-forechecking
-catching passes and making plays
-starting

You get the idea. I think that just because HS hockey is hard core doesn't mean it isn't hockey and doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy every sweating, can't-breathe, legs-are-hurting moment of it.

The other coach pops in. I used to love this program, but this year the feeling is diminishing.

Well, no one likes being the disappointment. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry that something is wrong, and no one knows what that something is. I'm sorry I'm not enjoying myself enough to have the drive it takes to rise to the next level. I'm sorry I'm not a D1 stud player who's gonna lead the team to a couple State Tournaments. It hurts me to say all that. But that doesn't change anything.

Nothing ever changes...by itself. That's some Jars of Clay for you.

Maybe that all could change, if only someone takes that initiative. Picks up the pieces and tries to put them back together, like the puzzles my sister does on the Internet. (She actually does that for fun. Wierd, eh?)

Towards the end of the speech, someone was smirking again. Sigh. "Whats so funny?! You've had that look on your face for awhile now, so what do you think is so funny?"

I mean, my mind wanders sometimes too. So it doesn't feel right judging her about her half-smile during such a depressing post-game. I mean, we did lose 4-0. And there was no way any of us should be laughing. But you never know, maybe she was thinking about eating a chocolate chip cookie after the game, and that thought made her happy. Or maybe she just wanted to rip another petal off our dying flower. I swear, this is like Beauty in the Beast all over again. Like, someday every petal will be gone and then we will all be doomed. That would suck. Big time.

There is a lot more to say but....in conclusion, something is not right, and my head hurts so I am going to bed.