Happy Gilmore

Remember all of that stressful, injured eye crap I was spouting yesterday? Well, even though the eye still hurts like a bear, I have never been more happy. Why? because as I am writing this post, I am taping up my six-year old son's hockey stick!

Okay, Kyle is not playing ice hockey yet, but his first ever street hockey league started on Wednesday night. I was working, so the missus took him to the rink for his debut. We were excited about it, because hockey is his first love, with soccer and lacrosse a very distant second. He has been itching to start this league for weeks.

His coach told him he needed a helmet with a face mask, shin guards (soccer were fine), gloves, and a stick. Since I didn't want to be a cheapskate, I bought him a kickass Nike wood stick and had Fireboat John cut it down to his size. Of course, being a kid, he took a slap shot late in the game . . . and shattered the blade. Good bye $$$.

The first game was a hodge podge of kids and coaches, and since the goalie equipment was not available yet, they played with empty nets. Even so, Kyle managed a goal and an assist - he's better than me! - and his team won by a score of 9-3. When he called me at work, he talked my ear off, and dissected every play of the game. I had never seen him so happy.

So, tonight I am taping up his next stick - hopefully, he won't break a stick every game - which was politely cut down by Captain America. Actually, it's his mother's college hockey stick - yes, mom played intramural hockey at West Chester University - so it should be a bit more sturdy.

His next game is on Monday night. I'll be there.