9/19/07 Battle Scars

Well, it's hockey time again. Tony started his fall league last night, which he loves. It's his time to be able to put on lots of pads, effectively doubling his size (not so desirable for women, but guys seem to get a kick out of it), play a group sport without actually having to talk to anyone (he's a goalie, so this works perfectly for him), and pretend to exercise while really just standing still for an hour (although he claims that falling down to block a shot actually takes a lot of energy). He likes it because it's a connection to his childhood and his home in the Great White North, and he's actually pretty good at it. I like it because I think it's healthy for him to have a hobby, and it relieves stress while giving him a chance to bond with other guys. What I'm not such a fan of is the bruises. Hockey is a violent sport, even in a no-check league. Despite the padding, voluntarily taking a hit from a chunk of hardened rubber at 90mph leaves a bruise. Tony comes home looking like he went 10 rounds with Oscar De La Hoya. (I'm just waiting for someone to report me for spousal abuse. For the record, it wasn't me). Last night, he came home limping. Limping! (Apparently when you drop to your knees to block a shot, there's about four inches of leg right above the knee that isn't covered by padding. And if you happen to take a hockey puck right in those four inches, it leaves a beauty of a bruise. Not to mention that your knee swells up to look like you're smuggling whole cantaloupes).

Anyway, Tony hobbled in and I immediately reverted to my wifely first aide mode which namely consists of morphing into Mae Questel from Woody Allen's Oedipus Wrecks and fussing at him. "Didn't I tell you to be careful? Right before you left, I said, 'Be careful!' and what do you do? Take a puck to the knee!" I continue in this vein while I flutter around, getting him an ice pack ("...Don't know WHY anyone would want to stand there while people shoot things at him..."), propping his leg up on raised pillows ("...could have broken your leg..."), and give him some ibuprofen for the swelling (..."should have taken up yoga, but noooooo"). I do a pretty good job with the role considering neither a mother nor Yiddish. Tony, for his part, hangs his head in remorse and looks properly chastised.

He'll be really sore today, and that knee will probably still be swollen, but it won't matter, because to Tony, it's a battle scar. A message to all that yes, he may be black and blue today, but the important thing is he stopped that puck. And when you're a hockey goalie, that bruise is something to be proud of. I'm sure that this one is just the beginning too. I better stock up on some more ibuprofen.