Hockey

I hadn’t thought about it in years but channel surfing came at the right time this year and I got hooked on the Stanley Cup Playoffs.  It’s a long, drawn-out series of seven games times four to see which team carries home the thirty-four-and-a-half pound trophy and a reasonable amount of money.  Quite a few more teams are vying for it now than when I used to sit at home with my dad and watch the action.  Who would have thought of Hockey games in Miami!!!

            My dad was a seasonal guy.  There was Baseball season, Hockey season, and a season for all other games like Roller Derby, Wrestling, and Boxing. Ice Hockey was my favorite.  The action was non-stop as the players darted from one side of the rink to the other, pushing, pulling, slapping, and hurtling the tiny black puck hopefully into the opponent’s net. In those days, faceguards and helmets were not normally part of the uniform, so occasionally the puck ended up in someone’s face. Concussions were prevalent as well. Sometimes your eyes hurt from trying to get in all the action shown on the small tv screen as you waited for the announcer’s, “A shot and a goal by…”

            My team was the Chicago Blackhawks and my favorite player was Bobby Hull.  Dubbed the ‘Golden Jet," he was a Canadian-born skater who played in over one thousand NHL games during his tenure.  He could skate twenty-nine mph and his slapshot was once clocked at 118 mph.  He could pass, he could score, and could he fight!  There was always a reason to raise up the sticks and pound on each other in a free-for-all! 

            I was working in downtown Chicago and I heard Bobby Hull was going to be at a Florsheim shoe store on Dearborn Street, signing autographs during the noon hour.  I managed to duck out of the office and hike my way over to the store to stand in line for what seemed forever.  Suddenly, there I was, standing across from the “Golden Jet” himself.  Our eyes met.  Well, actually mine were looking further down, admiring his false front teeth.  He smiled, asked my name, which luckily I remembered, and we exchanged pleasantries which I don’t remember.  I walked out of the store clutching my autographed photo and walked slowly back to work.  That evening I showed Jerry my prize.  He never really got into Hockey much but he always understood where I came from with it.

            A year or so after I snagged my Bobby Hull photo, I received one of the nicest gifts ever.  I think it was Valentine’s Day and Jerry had been out working late on his second job.  He walked in with something large wrapped in plastic bags and told me to close my eyes. He told me that he loved me and had wanted to get me a fantastic gift but the stores were closed and he hoped this would be ok with me.  First, he reached into his pocket and gave me a silly, children’s card that he had drawn all over.  Then, out came a Snicker’s bar.  The plastic bag-wrapped gift was handed over and I couldn’t help but laugh.  I tore off the plastic and grabbed my very own Chicago Blackhawk authorized, wooden Hockey stick that he had found in our local convenience store.  That was the sweetest, nicest, most wonderful, most romantic gift a girl could ever wish for!

            I’ve had Bobby Hull’s photo and the Hockey stick both for over fifty years.  The photo is on the office wall and the stick is in my closet.  The stick may have never played in a game but I can imagine the announcer saying “A shot and a goal by Jerry Ahern”.

Sharon