Ya Done F'ed Up

I am not an old man, not by any means, but it has been awhile since I played on an organized hockey team. I remember winning, and I remember losing. I remember the joys and the pains of a long season, even though they weren't all that long looking back. I remember the elation in the locker room after a big win, and I bitterly remember the somber pain of a bad loss.

And I remember this.

Our team was up something like five to nothing going into the third period. My dad happened to be the coach that season, and I remember at the bench between the second and third him telling us that if we completed the shutout, there would be no practice that week, and if we happened to give up a goal, but won the game, there would be no practice the next day.

We lost. 7-5.

In the locker room, he walked in and everyone shut up. Kids, parents, everyone. He looked around at every single person in what I imagine was his own little Herb Brooks moment and said:

"Ya done fucked up boys."

Then he walked out the room. As we exited the building every player and parent was told there would be a practice everyday that week, and there would be double length practices at that.

Brutal.

Russo has some strong words up on his blog, you should check them out. Here are my favorites:

Agreed Backs, agreed. Looking back at the play in the first, it was exactly what it was the rest of the game. It just happens that Ottawa's coach adjusted for it. Ours didn't.

He should be mad. He got out coached by a guy who has been behind the bench for as long as Jacques elbow has hurt.

Two shots he faced. Two. One went in, and both were short handed. Sad.

In other words:

Ya done fucked up boys.

-Buddha