A Bloody Fine Weekend

 Two weeks I went without my boys. Two weeks without the clack of the sticks or the spray of the ice that necessitates me jumping back to protect my lens.  I very nearly died from withdrawal, I'll have you know.  I suppose this does not bode well for me and the approaching end of my favorite season.  Nevertheless, I was all smiles, as you might imagine, when Friday rolled around and I rolled into the parking lot ecstatic to see the rink lit up, small specks of humanity weaving along behind the large glass windows. The smell of beer was already in the air as I threaded my way, camera slung over the shoulder, through the crowd of children and their chaperons lined up outside of the building waiting to enter. I smiled at a young boy hopping about the steps waving his ticket in his hands...you might have thought he had the golden ticket the way he pranced about before the glass doors.  Golden ticket indeed, I thought, pulling on the handle and entering my favorite place in all the city. 

I was there early enough (for once) to catch the boys finishing up warm ups.   I approached the glass and saw Marcus Carroll and Chris Donovan passing the puck back and forth to one another, their faces dimpled and pinched with the wideness of their smiles.

Chris Donovan still owes me a doodle.

Marcus and Chris are frequently the last players to leave the ice during warm ups. Their friendship and rapport always obvious as they smile, laugh, and joke while skating to and fro, dodging imaginary opponents and making the imaginary play (that would end up being not-so-imaginary the following night) that scores the big goal.  

As the boys burst onto the ice, there was my starting lineup....another new goalie (the fifth in as many weeks) Shane Connelly, Brendan Milnamow, Matt Sorteberg, Maxime Tanguay, Simon Ferguson, and Hugo Carpentier.   Yes. That's right. I said Maxime Tanguay.  Guess who finally came back from injured reserve? 

Max is ALIVE!

After the obligatory grin at seeing Maxime Tanguay return to the ice, I was able to appreciate just what our starting lineup consisted of.  Simon, Hugo, and Max are just the sort to mesh well together.  Simon and Max are roommates and anytime the team is in public you can count on finding Max hiding somewhere behind Hugo (peppy optimistic personality notwithstanding you have to approach Maxime Tanguay not the other way around. He's a contradiction, but that's okay.)

Behold the sexiest offensive line of all time. I tried really hard to refrain from saying that, but...I failed. I know. Don't rub it in.

As for the new goalie, I was surprised and delighted to discover that Shane Connelly is a bundle of personality. He's got that merry touch of pure goalie-related weirdness that sparkles in his eyes as he dances about the goal with a little sprinkle of goalie OCD.   My post yesterday shows only a small portion of Shane's complex routine, but there you have it.  He's fun to watch and I don't mind it at all...so long as he's still paying attention.

Superstitious Shane

As I sat down in front of the glass, camera at the ready for the game and the players I have missed for two weeks, I began to think that this was a pleasant start, like a stroll in the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon to another weekend of hockey.  Already a minute into the game, Tom May and Kevin Deeth (the perpetual worriers of the ice, always alert and on edge) aided by the swift and observant Matt Clarke, had scored one for the Grizzlies.  I was pleased.

But this is hockey.

Two minutes later, Riley Emmerson, that old former villain until he joined our ranks, came onto the ice looming large and imperious,  skirting the perimeter as if to send a wordless warning to the opposing players caught in his large circles like fish trapped behind a border of netting.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Ontario Reign's James Mewan coming around the goal eyeballing our enforcer.  I raised my eyebrows and my camera, took a deep breath, and waited for the inevitable.  With a practiced flick of the wrists, the two men dropped their gloves, readied their scarred fists, and circled until the tension was broken by a flurry of furious hits from Riley Emmerson.

James Mewan on the receiving end of a classic Riley Emmerson hit.

No one went down in that fight though Mewan certainly took far more hits.  When it comes to squaring off with Riley Emmerson, the best most can hope for is to simply not-go-down, and that's exactly what James Mewan (surprisingly) managed to accomplish. Though I may be wrong about this, the lack of a complete thrashing meant that the Reign were not nearly as intimidated now as we would have liked.  I assume this because Mewan would return again and again for the rest of the weekend despite frequent reappearances by Emmerson who would have his hands full containing the rage of the Ontario Reign.

Indeed, from that first fight on, the weekend would be dominated by complex and difficult-to-understand blood debt.  Hockey is one of those sports that is truly two games in one: the one played on the ice itself, and the equally unforgiving and complex one that takes place within the mind.  After that fight, the Ontario Reign seemed to collect themselves, bringing it fast and furious and challenging our boys to play catch-up as they scored two goals on some terrible turnovers (pure mental error), ending our first period in a deficit.  The second period saw our boys come back strongly and then.....then at the start of the third period with Hugo Carpentier tying the game, the man came back two minutes later, charging down the ice, puck spinning dangerously at the end of his stick when he suddenly swung to his left, clipping Ontario Reign's tenacious goalie Beau Erickson.   And somehow in the way only Hugo Carpentier can...he came off with only a two minute minor.

Hugo Carpentier (Grizzlies) clips goalie Beau Erickson (Reign)

The Reign were not impressed.

Marcus Carroll (Grizzlies) and Chaz Johnson (Reign) trade words following Erickson's injury.

But the Reign were uncharacteristically patient.  Instead of going for blood right then and there, they gathered themselves and took the game back. Now our boys, instead of fighting to win the game, were suddenly on the defensive trying merely to maintain the tie...they ultimately could not hold.   The last two minutes of the game were a very good example of what being unfocused can do.   Usually quiet and respectful me, found the words "PAY ATTENTION!" erupting involuntarily from my lips a couple of times while watching the game from behind the camera.

As the team left the rink in defeat, I sat there pondering what a young team like this, a team that works so hard, was going to do.  What was going on in their heads? Were they lost in the slump? Were they disillusioned into thinking it would be easy to climb back out against a weak team in the Reign?  How was Kevin...after doing so well and then minutes later making such a critical mistake in the first period? With a sigh, I gathered up my equipment and made my way over to see the man himself.

The important thing to know about Kevin Deeth is that the guy is one of the more humble players we have.  He tries his hardest every time, and when he screws up (the man isn't perfect) he will readily confess it was his fault.  Therefore, when I went to congratulate him on his assist, he beat me to the greeting by apologizing for losing the game.  Goliath's reply of "win it tomorrow" was not a command nor a reprimand, for Kevin Deeth requires neither, it was simply a confident foretelling of the future.  With a smile, a nod, and promise to do so, Kevin flailed over his candy (We spoil him with sour patch kids) and disappeared.  Then we turned and left as well feeling completely confident while heading out into the parking lot that not only Kevin, but the whole team, would learn from the loss and turn things around.

Good things do not come easily.  They especially do not come easily in a sport like ice hockey.  Every action will get a reaction, sometimes seconds later, sometimes weeks later, sometimes even years later. The moment I saw Ontario goalie Mike Zacharias skate out again instead of Beau Erickson, I suspected and worried the Reign would be out for blood.  I did not expect to see it quite so literally at my feet.

The Ontario Reign knock Matt Sorteberg's (Grizzlies) teeth and blood to the ice.

Early in the game, Matt Sorteberg while curled over the puck as he carried it away from our goal was hit hard into the rim of the boards face first by the Ontario Reign. It was a brutal hit that rocked the dashers and sent Matt's mouth guard and a spray of blood to the ice below.  I did not take the shot.  I did not take the shot because 1. it happened too close for me to adjust my settings in time and 2. my first instinct was "Holy shit, Matt!"

Let me explain something.  I love these guys. I really do. Not like fan-love.  This is family. I credit them with "restoring me".  I had been depressed once upon a time, and this team and this sport lifted me up and put me back together again. Thus, while I acknowledge the brutality of hockey, it does not mean that I am immune to the sudden wave of fear and concern that strikes when any player is hurt.  The strike occurred directly below me, and I saw the ferocity and force of the impact, an impact so huge I knew teeth must have been lost and I worried, with tears in my eyes as Matt remained on his knees on the ice for a minute, whether he'd broken anything else.

I was relieved then when he stood up and, calm as could be, obediently followed the medic to the home tunnel.  Then again, this is Matt Sorteberg, a generous and polite man who I knew would never let a belated birthday present like this go without acknowledgment.  He owed someone a thank you. It didn't matter that Giffen Nyren and his other teammates on the ice had already gone after the Reign with similar intentions. (Matt's injury would bring the entire team together in a way I haven't seen in a long while with both fortunate and further unfortunate consequences.)

Matt Sorteberg takes on Jordan Morrison in anger over the check that cost him his teeth and lip.

In the end, a whole bunch of people were in trouble.  The game was delayed.  The cameraman beside me was excited by the whole thing.  I was sitting there stunned, my head in my hands, hoping for the best for Matt...especially as rumours began trickling in about how many teeth he had or had not lost.

It all escalated from there.  The hit against Matt Sorteberg was declared a clean hit.   The Grizzlies, however, would have none of that.   Ontario's Chaz Johnson, a talented Montrealer (and coincidentally, Goliath's favourite player...and he's not even ours), was targeted by Riley Emmerson bursting from the penalty box, finally free, and ready for action.

I still am not entirely sure what warranted the targeting of Chaz Johnson from behind like that (I mean I know about the injury to Matt, obviously, I just mean it's not Riley's honor-the-code style to strike with a man's back turned).  I did not catch what might have happened moments before and I certainly could not hear the conversation that took place. (edit: I have since learned of new details. It's hearsay, thus far, but it deserves mention. Chaz Johnson has argued that the hit had nothing to do with a blood debt, that it was Matt being in a bad position at the time.  He explained that Riley Emmerson told him they were going to fight, but that he did not want to fight due to his health.  Chaz also explained that when Riley burst from the penalty box, grabbed him from behind, and began to throw punches that he was not going to fight back.  Thus, he went down to the ice and covered himself up which, along with the earlier injury to Matt, resulted in Simon Ferguson deciding to have a few words with him at the bench.)

Riley Emmerson (Grizzlies - 59) trades words with a blithe Chaz Johnson (Reign - 98)

All I know is that denying Riley Emmerson the justice he seeks means it will be meted out one way or another by someone...and that someone is usually a smiling pleased-to-be-of-service Brian Kilburg...who would take on Reign Defenseman, Jordan Hill, minutes later.

Brian Kilburg lends a hand.

And remember how I mentioned earlier that there would be words exchanged between Chaz Johnson and Simon Ferguson?  In an event I witnessed from across the rink...Chaz Johnson lost his cool on the bench....shouting and cursing and making several violent gestures in the direction of Simon Ferguson who turned and walked away.  A tirade which became so concerning the man was escorted to the locker room and pulled from the game. (edit: Apparently, Simon Ferguson decided to share with Chaz Johnson just what he thought of him and decided, in that moment, to speak without thinking and to say some words that were really unacceptable.)

Simon Ferguson says something terrible to Chaz Johnson who, rightly so if what's been said was said is true, becomes enraged.

Several game misconducts later...the game continued on.  James Mewan, who I said would be a reoccurring figure for this particular weekend, came back onto the ice.  I watched as he immediately began prodding and nettling Simon with insistence. (edit: Mewan felt Simon needed to be held accountable by the Reign for the derogatory term he called Chaz according to reports.  When Mewan's invitations to fight were turned down, James Mewan felt Simon had been given fair warning and punched him anyway.)

Simon Ferguson is escorted to the back to have his nose looked at.

Despite all of these things.  ALL OF THESE THINGS.  The Grizzlies were doing well. Tom May got his hat trick.  Correction: the wicked talented Tom May completed a hat trick.

GOAALLL!!!

And remember these two guys from the beginning of my recount of the weekend?

Marcus Carroll (background) and Chris Donovan (foreground)

Well, all that pregame practice paid off like I said it would.

Congratulations guys!!!

I laughed out loud and cheered so loudly for them when they scored that goal together.  Despite all of the drama...there were incredible moments like that one.  And a whole bunch of other goodies. New goalie, Tyler Sims, who is adorable, kind, and very talented didn't just hold on, he kicked ass.  Brian Kilburg scored a beautiful goal. Matt Sorteberg returned to the ice, missing teeth, bloodied jersey, bloodied lip, stitches sticking out every which way, but on the ice...angry...and on the ice.  Maxime Tanguay was still fun as ever to photograph even though he nervously chewed on his mouth guard nonstop and ruined just about every picture I took of him.

I suppose I could have simply posted this:

And said that was the end result.  That that was the story of the weekend.  But if I had, you all would have missed out on a bloody fine, fortunate and unfortunate, weekend.