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Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Hockey Guy

Posted By on Wed, Jun 17, 2009 at 10:37 AM

Last week we took a look at Softball Guy and Pickup Basketball Guy. Today, courtesy of our hockey-loving Editor, is Hockey Guy.

By Frank Lewis

Hockey Guy’s gear is old. And full of holes. And it fucking reeks. The main source of the stench is probably the “lucky” undershirt that he never washes.

Hockey Guy comes prepared to talk at length about what happened the last time you played this team. And the time before that. And, sometimes, games from previous seasons.

Hockey Guy checks the league web site daily and knows the stats by heart.

Hockey Guy wears a half-shield, if he wears any face protection at all. He wants nothing getting in the way of yelling about how you’re out of position.

Hockey Guy never wears the right jersey. Instead he’ll wear one of the same color from his vast collection of jerseys from past teams, all of which seem to have stains that might be blood, or ketchup. He owns one pair of socks.

Hockey Guy doesn’t bring a water bottle — “My high school coach never let us drink!” — but steals sips from everyone else’s.

Hockey Guy believes he should be on the ice for every power play and penalty kill. In both cases he barks out orders for how everyone else should play their positions, then chases the puck all over the ice.

Hockey Guy starts yelling “Change! Change!” the instant your shift goes over a minute, then stays out for three and a half.

Hockey Guy is always coaching, but the tone corresponds directly to the score. With a big lead, he will joke with you for putting a pass right on a defender’s stick. If you’re behind, the same mistake will cause him to bellow “FUCK!” and slam his stick against the boards.

Hockey Guy routinely makes similar mistakes, but he always has an explanation: “I thought Jeff was going to cut across, but he went the other way and …”

Hockey Guy even has never played in net but doesn’t let that stop him from offering advice to the goalie.

Hockey Guy protests every penalty called against him as if it carried a death sentence, but always with the same excuse: “I was playing the puck!” The call could be for a cross-check to the head, and still he would insist that he was playing the puck.

Hockey Guy’s greatest skill is affecting a spectacular fall when an opponent so much as breathes on him, then popping up instantly with his arms spread and mouth agape, demanding “Where’s the whistle?!” He seems genuinely oblivious to the fact that the refs hate him.

Hockey Guy lives for the final minute of a close game. In terms of excitement, the birth of his first child cannot compare to pulling the goalie for an offensive zone faceoff with nine seconds left.

Hockey Guy would trade you for some tape and a bag of pucks in a heartbeat.

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