You would think after thirteen years as a hockey mom, and almost fifty years as a Canadian, I would have learned a thing or two about hockey. And you would be right. I have learned a thing. Or two.
I still don’t understand why they call it an offside. The blue line doesn’t separate sides, it separates ends. I think it would be better understood by everyone –meaning me – if they just called it an offender (see what I did there? Off-ender?). I am also at a complete loss trying to figure out why the refs drop the puck where they do after a particularly confusing intentional offside. How do they really know it was intentional? Sounds kind of unsportsmanlike if you ask me.
Anyway, I do have my own hockey mom vocabulary that is not at all confusing. In fact, I think my hockey terms clear a whole lot of things up very nicely. I would be so proud if some of these go viral, so help me out!
This is the word I use to describe the amount of time spent waiting before a game or practice and the time spent lingering after a game or practice. Everyone knows that in minor hockey, there is a whole lot of wingering going on. Wingering can be a pain – made even more painful if you’ve already spent a long time travooling.
When we live in one part of the city and my kid’s game is in another part of the city (or another city altogether), the travel to and from a hockey games can be long and use up tons of gas. This travel can be made even longer if it’s my turn to carpool and the level of testosterone or estrogen in the car is double its recommended limits. Travooling takes patience.
Similar to wingering, though this is what I do when I’m in more of a social mood and I chit-chat the whole time that I am wingering. Mostly I winger, sometimes I socialait.
I do a dafter when I cheer loudly but inappropriately. Like yelling “Shoot!” when no one on our team has the puck. Or “Skate! Skate! Skate!” when it’s clearly going to be an icing call. My poor timing is legendary. Sometime I forget that the goalie has changed ends and I yell, “Get it outta there!” when really the whole point of the game is not to get it out of there. I miss the point of the game sometimes. Sometime I get my kids team names mixed up. That’s a dafter too.
Occasionally I have lower back pain from sitting on a bleacher too long with no back rest. My butt goes numb from sitting too long on those bleachers when I’ve forgotten my hockey blankey. My feet get sore from wingering and socialaiting. I get a headache from the stupid vuvuzela one of the siblings brought to the game. Varying degrees of pain … one big bleacherache. Take two glasses of wine and do it all over again in the morning.
The hockey hanker
No one needs wine at the end of the day more than a hockey mom. Every hockey mom has had a hockey hanker at one point or another during the weekend. It’s a hankering for some alcohol.
So next time you see me wingering at the arena, ask me to socialait. You can tell me all about your bleacheraches and I’ll tell you all about mine. Then you can pretend you didn’t hear my dafters. In any event, I hope to relieve our hockey hankers together!!
Cheers to a new hockey season!