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| Vol.3.82 | |
Get Hurtby Vince PoscenteAuthor of The Ant and the Elephant, Invinceable Principles and The Age of Speed As I dashed off to play hockey last week my friend said, with genuine concern (and logic), "You know you're going to hurt yourself." Maybe. But is that how to live? Friends gathered for a birthday party but I chose to duck out to one of our final games of the season. Knowing my age, my buddy felt compelled to chime in. Listen, I'm 47 (with the body of a 46 year old). My brain thinks I'm 25. But after a game I feel a whole lot like 75. Who cares? I don't. It's a blast. It's C league hockey. The kind of hockey when you hear the words "clear" you debate with the old guy on your left weather it's about the puck or defibrillator paddles. Then the young guy on your right says "Beer?" "No, he said clear." Ah, the joys of a men's league. On my line, the collective age of the winger and myself is 99. Another line's wingers combined age is 39. Regardless of age, we all have a hoot throwing on the equipment and trying to put a little puck in the net. And - there's the post-game beer. Last week I experienced hockey's equivalent of a hole-in-one or a 9th inning grand slam. In the game's waning minutes I scored the tying goal. My two prior assists added up to a rare experience for any hockey player. But get this! In overtime, I was fortunate enough to score the game winner. Elation is an understatement. To be the hero (in the small way it really is) was a feeling worth hanging on to. When I came back to the birthday party I was 3 feet off the ground. The feeling lasted well into the next day. Sitting across from my wife at breakfast I went through both goals in detail. I dropped back to defense and slapped the puck low. It found it's way through traffic for the tying goal. Then, on an offensive rush in overtime, Ken did a drop pass and I fired the winning goal into the top right corner. Can you believe it? My wife was smiling but there was that unmistakable look in her eye that meant, "You really need to clip your nose hairs." The entire time I'm thinking we should commission a 20-foot hockey statue out front of the house; she's thinking, "I hope he put the garbage out front?" To be fair, the first time Michelle saw me play hockey 15 years ago, she was in the stands yelling. "Vince. Make a point. Make a point." Clearly, hockey was not part of her West Texas upbringing. Nor will it ever be. What I have to remember is - I felt good. Despite the risks of being hurt, fully living is more important. Play for the win. But the win is not just the score. You win when you feel most alive. Until next week it's full speed ahead,
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© 2010 Vince Poscente. All Rights Reserved. |
