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                         July 19, 2002

Black Knights netminders have nothing to fear

Commentary by Jim Fox
Staff Writer

Scratch one more thing off the old list of things I wish I could get a chance to do because July 11 I got to don pads and man the pipes for a Mass Athletics session with the Army hockey team.

You heard right. (See page 14 for embarrassing photo coverage of the event.)

I have never skated before. I have never worn goalie pads or equipment before, but I relished the chance nonetheless.

How did I get such an opportunity you ask?

Well, this "goalie for a day" session was the brainchild of Army assistant hockey coach Brian Riley, who I bumped into back on Reception Day.

Brian, a fan of Boston sports, said he read a column of mine from back in May. It talked about certain sports that I liked and respected because I knew I could never do them, hockey being one of them.

I thought he knew I was a friend of the program, as it were.

He admitted later that the real reason he came up with this idea was to get a little revenge on a New York Yankees fan.

He said that while reading my column the name George Plimpton popped into his head.

Plimpton, a sportswriter among other things, was known for getting a tryout with the National Football League’s Detroit Lions in the 1960s.

His tale was immortalized in the movie The Paper Lion starring Alan Alda.

Now I have no delusions of grandeur by any means, despite what co-worker Spc. Eric Bartelt said upon first hearing about my stint in goal. He immediately dubbed me The Paper Cadet.

My introduction to the new cadets by head coach Rob Riley made it perfectly clear that I was in a little over my head when he said, "Mr. Fox will be in goal for us today."

Up until that point I thought I was "one of the goalies" that day, not "the" goalie.

Rob, another fan of Boston sports, knew he had me at this point. There was no way out for the Yankees fan sportswriter.

After being strapped into my gear by Brian and Army summer hockey camp counselor John Bryde, whose equipment I borrowed, it was off to my first attempt at skating.

Actually, despite my many falls to the ice over the next 30 minutes, I didn’t tumble nearly as many times as I thought I would.

Brian brought over Army’s newest goaltending recruit to help me with my problems staying in one place in the crease.

When I asked the young man how I stay in one place on skates and in full goalie gear he responded, "You don’t. You have to always keep moving."

I thanked him for all his insightful help and sent him on his way.

The newest Army netminder and the rest of his 2006 classmates then ran through their drills and took careful aim by their coach’s direction and shot pucks seemingly directly into my glove.

I fancy myself a fair fielder in softball, but I couldn’t make full use of all the padding I had on. I kept reaching across my body with my glove hand as Brian implored me to use my blocker.

It’s not a natural act to purposely let hard, frozen rubber objects hit you when you can catch them.

The new cadets were not my main concern though. Brian’s six-year old son Brendan was. The young hockey veteran had his way with me throughout the session.

Brendan had two years of hockey experience on me and he used every move he had on me. The junior Black Knight Mite team member calmly skated past my best attempt at defense, time and time again, routinely depositing his puck behind me almost at will.

I stuffed him a couple times, but not that many. I actually had better luck with Jim Zuhlke, the Army hockey contact and an assistant director for Army Media Relations.

Zuhlke admitted he had only been on skates roughly six times in the past two years. Upon finding out I was in goal that day he scrambled up to Tate Rink to get a chance to take some shots at me.

I held him at bay. It was young Brendan who haunted me that day.

Trying to keep my position was the hardest thing. It took me about 15 minutes to figure out how to control my tendency toward sliding forward and thus out of the goal crease.

Brian and Hollender Center manager J.B. Spisso kept telling me I was doing fine, for a first time on skates at least.

I appreciated their kindness at my plight, but my back was telling me something else.

I’m old. My back was killing me as I tried to maintain proper position, while trying not to leave my "five-hole" exposed.

When you get to live out a wish like this folks, make sure you ask to do it with the body of an 18-year-old and not in a 35-year-old’s body that is just in good enough shape to make it through his intramural softball team’s season without injuring himself.

My other regret was in not putting any de-fogger on my glasses before hitting the ice. So about halfway through this once-in-a-lifetime-experience my lenses fogged up to the point that all I could see out of them was the top inside corners. I could see well enough to be able to tell that small, black objects were hurtling toward me from a distance.

The whole experience was great fun. The hockey recruits came at me with 2-on-1s and breakaways. They shot "soft" slap shots at me from the top of the circle and the blue and red lines.

I’m glad my wife videotaped the whole thing so I have some proof that it actually happened.

My best moment, aside from stuffing Zuhlke on numerous occasions, was an honest to goodness kick save.

In my best Patrick Roy-like moment, I flipped my foot out to re-direct the puck as it sped toward me without thinking of the consequences of my actions. About three nano-seconds after the puck skipped away from the tip of my skate I realized I was falling onto my butt.

Later that night at home while watching the video I knew my mission was a success when I heard the peels of laughter on the video as my wife Kris taped the proceedings. I gave a few friends and family and a couple hundred hockey summer campers, who were in attendance waiting to go on the ice after the Army practice, a good laugh.

Brian’s hope that I get to see a view of the sport of hockey from behind a mask worked. I have a greater respect and admiration for what it takes to be a goalie and I didn’t even get hurt.

He even said I had a lot of potential; again, I’m sure he was just being kind.

Brian’s post-practice scouting report on Army’s newest goaltending prospect concluded, "(He has a) good glove. We have to work a little bit on the stick. Skating got better during the course of practice."

Then he dropped the "P" word on me.

"There is definite potential," he said before pausing.

"Whether or not you will be getting a letter from us," Brian continued, not being able to contain his laughter anymore, "I’m not sure. But we look forward to watching you during the upcoming season."

Thanks, Brian.

Did anyone figure out what my goals-against-average and save percentage were?

{This column should in no way give the impression that the author desires to play for the Army rugby team or attempt to take part in any practice with the Army Martial Art teams.}