Relying on a rent-a-goalie is not always a sure path to beer league hockey success, but local team the Black Aces came away with a W in their most recent game by employing just that strategy. With regular netminder Raj C out of town on yet another ‘sales trip’, the aces secured the services of the hockey equivalent of the supply teacher.
Facing off against the Wyse Guys once again, the Aces were looking for another easy victory. Previous games against the men in red had resulted in lopsided scores in the Aces’ favour, but without the steady and reliable presence of their star goalie the team could not be assured of the same result. Enter Dale the Goalie.
He looked young. In this league, ‘young’ means ‘under 40’. He also confided in team HR specialist Aubrey S before the game that he had only been playing goal for about a year and a half. As a sometime goaltender himself, Aubrey could relate. Switching from a skating position to the net was not a common move, but at least there was precedent. The Aces formidable defense corps could more than make up for any shortcomings between the pipes.
As the game progressed, the team was pleasantly surprised. This newly minted netminder was doing a fine job after all. Saves were made, confidence levels rose, and the blackshirts eventually skated away with a 4-2 win. Not the domination of previous black on red contests, but red was playing harder than usual this night and their goalie was also having a solid game.
After the game, Dale (if that is indeed his real name) casually mentioned that he had in fact not been playing goal for a year and a half. It was more like 3 months. “Oh?” said Aubrey, rasing an eyebrow. “You played well for someone only playing goal for 3 months.”
“Did I say months?” replied Dale “I meant weeks. Three weeks.”
“So how long have you played hockey altogether then?” I asked, suddenly interested in their conversation.
“That’s it, three weeks. Never played hockey before. Well, road hockey. In the driveway. Once.”
“Really. Huh. Hard to believe for a guy who’s, what, twenty five?”
“Um, twelve actually. ”
“Twelve.” said a stunned Aubrey. “You don’t look twelve.”
“Okay, eleven and a half but my birthday is coming up.” said Dale, casually removing his prosthetic leg and tossing it into his bag. By this time he had the attention of most of the room, except for Bruce H who had nodded off due to extreme jet lag combined with the lingering effects of dysentery and yellow fever.
Calmly taking down his non-hockey leg from it’s hook behind him and snapping it into place, the youngster continued to pack his gear.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking that beer if you’re only eleven.” said team pastor Al H.
“Eleven and a half.” corrected Dale “And anyway I’m not driving. My mom is picking me up.”
The grizzled elders of the Aces team thoughtfully slurped their post-game cans of brew, trying their best to take in the news that an eleven year-old with a fake leg who had only been on skates for 3 weeks had just helped them into first place in the COTHL.
Dale hoisted his bag of gear, slipped on his dark shades, picked up his white cane and casually tapped his way out of the room into the night.
“Usiku mwema, wanawake. Pochi yako ni yangu.” was all he said.
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