A heart-breaker. It was a back and forth game. They's score. We'd score. The final score was 5-4. We had some defensive lapses and allowed them to dictate the pace in our end. That sounds dirty.
As predicted...Ol #14 (me) scored goal #1 of his Culver City Hockey career. I skated down the boards- turned in toward the goalie- made a move to get some space and let it rip low. 5-hole. Not pretty, but we don't grade on style.
GAME: 4/20: 3rd line Right-wing: 1 goal: 0 assists: 0 penalties
SEASON:4/20: 3rd line Right-wing: 1 goal: 0 assists: 0 penalties
NEXT GAME: Wed Oct 24* vs. White.
*I have to miss the next game b/c I'll be on Motor Trend Truck Of The Year duty in Arizona.
Notes: During the game an old man walked into the arena and sat down on our bench. I figured he worked there. He asked how I was and proceeded to open a bag of hockey equipment. the equipment was very old and worn. He put it all on...no one else seemed to notice him. After he laced up his skates and put on his leather helmet he touched my knee and said "this is my shift young man!" stood up and jumped over the boards to the ice. Stunned I yelled "wait! Its not your shift old-timer."
I scanned the ice and he wasn't there. I look to my teammates who were all open-mouthed and pale.
"You just saw Old Pete," a teammate said quietly.
"Old Pete?", I said.
"Old Pete used to play here about 50 years ago. One night a steel beam fell on him and killed him during a game. Sometimes...he likes to suit up and take that last shift he missed when he died."
"Holy fuck", I said. "This place is fucking haunted!."