Things I don’t understand

Why am I Derek Zoolander in the air as well as on the ice?

At Lorne, on Sunday morning, I took to a trampoline for the first time in a long time.

When I was a kid, if I may say so, I used to be kind of a big deal when it came to trampolining. Actually, we pretty much all were, as the local Lorne ‘tramps’ were the only entertainment apart from the Games Room (I was also a gun – ask my boys about Galaga, even now), and riding bikes around. Oh yeah, and endless surfing. And later, drinking sneaky cider on the beach at night. Plus, oh my god, the discovery of girls.

But I digress.

Flying on a Sunday. Pic: Chloe.

Trampolines … I wasted many summers and slow weekends working on somersaults and backward baranis, among other tricks, not to mention mastering bounceball, which is basically one-on-one, or two-on-two volleyball on a single trampoline. It was all fun until my mate, Bill, broke his leg.

Anyway, on Sunday, now older and less supple, I took to the sky and it was so much fun …. But here’s the thing, and the tenuous hockey link. I was bouncing high and spinning 360s, and realized that while it was effortless to turn left, spinning a full 360 to land facing the same way, it was difficult to turn right and do the same thing. Just like on the ice, where I can pivot, crossover, (mostly) hockey stop and do other moves to the left, but struggle when turning to the right. What the actual fuck? I am turn-right challenged beyond ice-skating? I am Zoolander. “Papa, I got the lung …” *koff

How there can still be such blatant racism in the world?

I mean, seriously. You kidding?

In Game 7 of the first round play-offs series between the Bruins and the Capitals, it was Washington’s Joel Ward who snared the goal to win the game and the series. A huge moment for a Canadian with parents from Barbados. As the Detroit Free Press reported, racist tweets were flying around the virtualsphere within seconds, up to and including: “That (n-word) deserves to hang.”

I don’t even know where to start. I mean, for fuck’s sake. It’s 2012. This is hockey. This is the western modern world. This is a supposedly evolved species.

Get it together, whichever cock-with-ears wrote that shit. That is all.

How will I ever get better as a skater if I only skate once a week?

Actually, you know and I know the answer to that. I won’t.

I know only too well that I have to keep putting in general skating sessions and other between-class time on skates, whether inline or ice. Other Ice Rookies are putting in endless hours and their skating is brilliant for it. I haven’t got there enough.

The last couple of weeks have been intense and I’ve only made it to class/dev league on a Wednesday night. Already, I can feel my always sketchy skating getting sketchier by the minute. There is no way I am remotely a good enough skater to take shortcuts.

So boot to arse. Get on it, Place.

Why do people who fancy themselves as NHL-standard skaters do Intro hockey classes?

Is it pure smugness? Are they Icehouse plants to test the resolve and heart of true L-plate hockey skaters? Weird.

Why is a smart, genuine woman like Julia Gillard making such a hash of being Prime Minister?

Ah, screw it. Politics … no place for it here. Depressing, though.

Why is there a Feature Ornamental T-Rex outside the Icehouse?

Oh, that’s right: it’s the Docklands. Outside of the haven that is the Icehouse itself, we’re talking about a soulless wasteland. Why wouldn’t you plonk a Feature Ornamental T-Rex across Pearl River Road?

The Docklands’ Feature Ornamental T-Rex. Why ask why?

(I remember when we had just started skating, early last year, Big Cat Place – then only a Kitten – discovered this T-Rex in a car park, behind a big fence. Peered through the fence as we were aimlessly wandering the wasteland and said, ‘Hey, a dinosaur.’ As you do. It’s good to see Rexxy is now front and centre.)

Sportswatch: The Melbourne Ice men’s team kicked off their season on the weekend. Thriller on Saturday against the Mustangs, which I missed because I was down the coast, and a more routine 5-2 win over Canberra on Sunday, which I made most of. Go, Ice, go.

And rub some of that winning magic off on the Richmond Tigers who could be 3-2 and have beaten Geelong and West Coast, but are instead 1-4 after two heroic, narrow losses. Sigh. Deep sigh.

And I continue to sweat on Detroit, wondering what the fall-out of the late season fade will be?

Maybe the Joe Louis Arena needs a Feature Ornamental T-Rex out the front, for luck? It’s working for the Ice …

Comments

  1. Accordion says:

    I am reminded of the young man with a violin, lost in London. He asked a Bobby how to get to the Royal Albert Recital Hall. The Bobby replied “practice, practice, practice!”.

    Strength and speed are momentary, technique lasts forever.

  2. Heya … yeah, sadly, or rightly, it’s totally true. So, I need technique, huh? damn. 😉

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