Stickin’ with it

I’ve never been compared to Pavel Datsyuk, the Russian hockey star whose puckhandling wizardry has been in heavy rotation in NHL highlight packages since he became a regular with the Detroit Red Wings in 2001. But at one time I was skilled enough that, when I had a puck on my stick, I felt I was in complete possession of it and could control what happened next.

That feeling has been relegated to the archives of my memory for years now, replaced by the knowledge that I would be soundly trounced if I was ever in a stickhandling contest against a cow equipped with a snow shovel.

In an effort to improve the sorry state of this fundamental hockey skill, I started stickhandling a plastic orange hockey ball in my garage for about 10 minutes every day starting back in early June. The ball felt completely foreign on my stick at first but gradually began to feel more at home.

In August when I finally acquired my shooting pads, I commandeered the larger one for stickhanding practice and experimented with various practice pucks and balls that I’d also acquired. I consulted YouTube for stickhandling drills and adopted a fairly regimented approach to the whole endeavour.

The puck I prefer is a vulcanized rubber one that’s the same size and shape as an official puck except it’s two ounces lighter and it’s blue. On the shooting pad it feels similar to a regular puck on ice although it does jump up on edge a fair bit. Another one I like is a very light floor hockey puck I bought for $2. I like to use this one either on the pad or on the bare concrete floor. It flips around quite a bit as well but otherwise feels similar to a puck on ice.

Various stickhandling objects are available. The Dryland
Puck (bottom left) costs $12 and is purported to be viable
on a sliding surface or floor. In my opinion, it performs
poorly in both settings. The Green Biscuit, which sells for
about $13, slides okay on a slippery surface but feels heavier
and clunkier than a puck on ice. The blue puck ($2) is like a
regular puck except it's two ounces lighter. It works fairly
well on a shooting pad. The Swedish Ball ($4, second row, left)
is a very lightweight wooden ball that really flies around a
shooting pad. It's good for working on quick hands. The
Extreme Stickhandling Ball ($9, second row, right) is heavy
and hard. Surprisingly, on a shooting pad it has a feel similar 
to a puck on ice. The basic orange floor hockey puck ($2), 
slides nicely on a floor or shooting pad.

I also have two balls that I like. Let me rephrase that: I also have a couple of balls that are fun to stickhandle. OK, what I mean is: I’ve got two little balls that are specifically made for hockey stickhandling practice and I like each of them for the specific properties they possess. One of these is somewhat heavy and made of rubber; the other one is light and made of wood. The rubber one, called the Extreme Stickhandling Ball, feels similar to a puck when handled on a slippery shooting pad. The wooden one is called the Swedish Ball and is billed as the speed bag of stickhandling because it moves very quickly, which is good for developing quick hands.

 With my stickhandling, my main objective has been to solidify the basics like moving the puck from side to side and front to back, nothing too fancy, just some fundamental skills that will allow me to skate with the puck without feeling like it’s a grenade with the pin pulled.

Despite my committment to keeping it simple, curiosity got the better of me one day and I found myself on YouTube studying a step-by-step breakdown of the toe drag, a high-level hockey maneouvre that involves pulling the puck toward you with the toe of the stick then quickly dragging it sideways past your own feet as you burst past a helpless defender. When executed well, this maneouvre seems to defy the laws of physics, leaving defenders swiping at air as the puck teleports from one side of them to the other and the puck carrier swoops past to mount an assault on their goalie. As a defender, I’ve been victimized by this move more times than I’d care to relate.

Even though I’m technically incapable of performing this trick, I’ve sometimes succumbed to temptation and attempted it anyway, always with the same result: the defender easily divesting me of the puck along with fragments of my dignity.

Actually, once and only once I did successfully employ the stunt, but I was so surprised to arrive on the other side of the defender with the puck that I lurched into a speed wobble that grew wilder as I careened  toward the goal. In the end, the puck and a glorious scoring chance simply slipped away like an eel.

At any rate, I’ve been working on this toe drag thing within the controlled conditions within my garage, having concluded that, if having some basic skills is good, having some more advanced skills is better. I’m not convinced I’ll ever master this move or be a player described as having “good hands,” but if I spot a cow carrying a snow shovel I’ll gladly throw down a puck and take her on.

A rootin’ shootin’ good time

There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from nailing a target consistently when firing shots out of your garage late at night.

I know this first hand because every night for the past two weeks I’ve been setting up for some good old, down home shootin’ practice, firing with determination and glee at a target set up in my driveway.

Now before you imagine some sort of hillbilly scene featuring spent shotgun shells scattered about or Winchester hollow points whistling through the night, let me remind you that this here is a hockey blog. Ergo, I’m talking about shooting hockey pucks here, plain old six-ounce hunks of vulcanized rubber ... 200 of ‘em.

I’d meant to start practicing my shooting much earlier in the off-season but it took me a while to assemble the equipment I needed to create a workable setup.

The main puzzle piece was some sort of slippery surface from which to shoot my pucks since I knew from experience that shooting off a surface like a concrete floor or a piece of plywood wouldn’t translate well to on-ice performance. I did considerable research into the available options and, after much deliberation, placed an online order for two shooting pads: a four-foot by 10-foot rollup pad valued at $160 and a thicker 30-inch by 60-inch pad priced at $100 (plus $50 to ship both items from Ontario).

The order arrived on Aug. 19, only about a month before I expected the season to start. I quickly set up my shooting gallery according to a plan I’d refined in my mind after weeks of scheming.

I knew from experience that dryland shooting while wearing shoes also doesn’t translate well to the ice so one of my priorities was to devise a system that would enable me to wear skates while shooting. I also wanted a system that was quick and easy to set up and take down, since I don’t have a spot where I can leave it assembled on an ongoing basis.

The system I devised involves a couple of old blankets draped over a piece of wood suspended across two metal poles (racks used to hold up barbells for squats, etc.) I used heavy duty clamps bought at a hardware store to hold the blankets in place.

I set up this rig on my driveway about 10 or 15 feet outside my garage door then set up both shooting pads side by side on the floor inside the garage. The idea was to shoot from inside the garage (where there’s a solid, level floor), through the open bay door into the draped blankets. The larger shooting pad was to be the shooting surface and the smaller, thicker one was for me to stand on (in skates, even though the pad isn’t made to withstand this kind of abuse).

My first full shooting session was on Aug. 27. It took me about 17 minutes to shoot my 200 pucks. I was surprised to find that this seemingly inert exercise caused me to run out of breath — I had to rest numerous times. The repeated torque of the shooting action was also murder on the hand that holds the top of my stick. By the time I was half done my pile of pucks, I had a hole in the skin in the middle of my palm and another at the base of my pointing finger, revealing the tender, reddish sublayers.

By the time I was down to 60 pucks remaining, I had two bloody spots in the palms of my gloves and I was in serious pain. But I foolishly persevered, determined to finish my 200-puck quota.

After that, I took four days off from shooting, to give my hand a chance to heal a bit, then I got back at it. My hand was still quite sore but I relaxed my grip and spared it from further damage. This time it took me 13 minutes to shoot all the pucks.

Blankets are effective at funneling pucks into a cohesive pile for easy retrieval.

Since that day I’ve shot my 200 pucks every day, racking up 1,400 shots so far. I’m concentrating on the classic wrist shot because the league I play in doesn’t allow slap shots. I’m still trying to nail down the perfect technique as there are many subtle mechanical adjustments one can make and it’s hard to discern what effect each little change is having on the shot speed.

This is where a radar gun would come in handy. There are outlets that sell them for sports like hockey and baseball but that’s $100 I refuse to spend. For now at least I must be content to judge by feel and by sight.

The blankets work really well. Not only are they quick and easy to set up but they are also virtually silent. It’s usually about 11 p.m. when I’m doing my shots and the only sound is a faint thwack when each puck hits the blanket followed by a light clanging as the wooden pole rattles around in the metal rack.

The blankets are also very effective at directing pucks into a cohesive pile. In fact, my blankets are long enough to lie on the ground, so most of the pucks fall on top of them, and most of the pucks can be retrieved at once by gathering up the bottom of the blankets and dumping the pucks into their storage container. Pickup is done in about three minutes.

I feel that I’ve improved quite a bit within the first two weeks of practice. I’m getting my shots away quickly and it looks like they have a fair amount of zip on them. But I suspect if I measured the actual speed it would be rather unimpressive and if you pitted me against a good shooter, I would look very wimpy in comparison.

In hockey, really hard shooters are said to have a howitzer. Throughout my hockey career, I’ve been in possession of nothing more powerful than a homemade slingshot, but the progress I’ve made over the last couple weeks gives me a glimmer of hope that, maybe someday, I’ll be the proud owner of a genuine shootin’ iron of some calibre ... a dream come true for any self respecting hillbilly, I reckon.

Wheeling and dealing – Part 2

This off-season I’ve been pulled simultaneously in two opposite directions: the relentless desire to buy stuff to help my training and the relentless reality of limited finances.

These two elements battled mightily about two months ago when I found myself dying to buy a semi-fancy digital watch that could time intervals.

For those who are unaware, interval training involves alternating between exertion and rest for specified amounts of time in order to achieve specific physical outcomes. Interval workouts have been an integral part of my program since I started training about a year ago. One of my regular modules calls for a work-to-rest ratio of 10 seconds to 50 seconds. Another one is 30 seconds of givin’ ‘er followed by two minutes of rest. And my personal favourite is the good old scheme of two minutes on, two minutes off.

Up until recently I didn’t have a device that could manage these times for me, so I just counted in my head as I was doing my moves, not really knowing how close I was coming to the actual times. For example, I’d be grinding out a wind sprint, practically dying, while counting in my head, “20 Mississippi, 21 Mississippi ... come on 30 Mississippi!”

The system was quaint in its imperfection when I was first easing into this training thing, but as I’ve become more serious, I’ve felt a desire for accuracy.

In the spring I succumbed to temptation and conducted some online research into watches. I quickly discovered the Timex Sleek 150 and ascertained that it was the best watch for me because it allows the user to program three different interval schemes. I spent more time than I care to admit gazing at pictures of this prized timepiece.

The watch was out of reach due to the $125 price. Granted, this isn’t that much money in the grand scheme of things. Like, if I’d been facing some needed repair to my car or teeth, I could have come up with that much and more, but given that my hockey training is really a self-indulgent hobby that benefits no one else in my family, I couldn’t justify the expense.

Desire

But I must admit that I do sometimes become obsessed with objects of desire, and that’s what this watch became. Even though I told myself unequivocally that I couldn’t have it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. One day I even ventured into a specialty running store to leer at the watch in person.

It took me mere seconds to spot it in its glass case, looking even more stunning than in the online pictures. How I longed to strap on that sleek little number and finger its buttons until a lap split, even if it was just a fleeting, one-time thing. 

But I wouldn’t allow myself to indulge this fantasy. The display case remained unopened, the watch untouched, staring at me with snooty disdain as its $125 price tag dangled with a forced casualness that was as infuriating as it was alluring.

Days and weeks passed. I accepted that the watch would never be mine but couldn’t shake the desire to possess it. Then one day I couldn’t resist popping into my local sporting goods emporium to see if that store also carried the watch in question. It did. And the watch was on clearance for $60, less than half the regular price!

My reaction was instant. I shielded the display case with my arms and body while summoning a clerk with violent movements of my head and eyebrows.

The rest is a blur. There was a key, then a box, then a credit card, followed by a sense of elation as I drifted to my car.

Good timing

I’ve been using the watch for several weeks now and it’s been one of those rare obsession purchases that has lived up to expectations. Truly, the watch has improved my life, and yes, I love it. There, I said it — I love my watch!

I’ve got three different interval workouts programmed into it and use them all regularly. It’s nice not to have to program it each time I do a different workout. And the watch counts the number of reps as I perform each interval sequence so I don’t have to keep track of those in my head.

But the best feature is simply that I no longer have to count Mississippis in my head. Instead, I can concentrate on doing my moves and maintaining them as my leg muscles melt, until that magical moment arrives when I’m saved by that most musical of sounds: “Beepity-beepity-BEEP!”