Game 13. Rockford Hot Wings (H) (L)

Game 13. Rockford Hot Wings (H) (L)

The Bearcat Scowls

In another life, I wrote reviews of church rummage sales on Chicago's tony north shore.  Towns like Winnetka, Kenilworth, Wilmette, and Lake Forest featured the best church rummage sales I've ever had the honor to sneeze through.  These sales would take place in the recesses of the church grounds, featuring dusty rooms connected by warrens crowded with crazed deal-finders.  Whole rooms were devoted to "devotional objects", "baby", "a/v", "unctions."  It was heaven.

So when I caught wind of the annual United Methodist Church rummage sale on Madison's north side about a week ago, I made sure that I went.  Vito came along.  While I did not expect there to be multiple rooms, I did expect there to be at least some good junk. 

Alas.  My one "find" was a spoken word record that promised to cure me of "excusitis." 

A pastry at Manna Cafe and Bakery and then off to the Shell for a league game against the Hot Wings of Rockford, Illinois.  When I think of Rockford I think of poet Matt Cook who wrote a poem (or found a poem) about Rockford.  The essential element of that poem was that Rockford had a metal factory of some sort back "in the day" and that printed on the brick factory building - at the top so it could be seen from the interstate - was a huge sign that said: Rockford Screw.

Which caused me and the rest of the Cloud Posse - Asperatus and Nimbus in full effect - to at least worry for our one-loss Lightning.  Well, we also were worried because we were without Amanita, Gloster, and Hlin.  That's a lot of firepower missing!  (Also, no cries of "Amanita … STONED!" would sail forth in the cavernous ice arena.  Also also, I would offer no kind of overly officious salutes but thankfully unnoticed salutes to Hlin as she skated stoically off the ice.)

The first period fulfilled some worry.  The Lightning were playing as if they had hangovers!  Very unorganized.  Lots of bunching up on one side of the ice.  And even though somebody collides with teammate Black Locust every game … well, I was worried.  The Hot Wings were playing with a  lot of moxie.  JP Specs (# 54) was rocking her Kurt Rambus-like epnymous specs.  Plus, their coach was of the yelling variety. 

But the first goal proved to be the only one the Lightning needed.  While the play resulted in one goal, it resulted in multiple style points: another perfect give-go-give-go between the Bearcat and MJ, with MJ getting the goal.

The Lightning would eventually win 7-0.  The game was close for one and a half periods.  In the third period, it was all Lightning.  The Hot Wing failed to register a shot on net for all of 12 minutes!  Meanwhile, the Lightning turned it on.  The period began 3-0.  Two minutes in and the score was 6-0.  There were some excellent goals.  None of which were caught on video, but many were witnessed by a bunch of hockey dudes, waiting to get on the ice.

Hockey Dudes look on as the Bourbon Wall signals the icing

I will at least attempt to describe some of the goals, for many were quite beautiful.  Like this one in the 2nd period: Snutch takes a shot from near the blue line, and Nicole's Friend tips it in.  Just like they do in the NHL!

Vito had a couple of goals.  The first into a wide-open net, the goalie down after deflecting a terrific shot from Nicole's Friend, Vito smartly skating down the slot unmarked.  Her second, and this would end the scoring, was a very Hlin-like skate to the slot and shoot.

Alone time

The game puck goes to Nicole's Friend, who registered 4 points with 2 goals and 2 assists. 

Notes: Vito and I eschewed the post-game beers and lunch.  Instead, we drove west to Black Earth to get some really good meat (we bought a pork shoulder and a couple of ribeye steaks) at Black Earth Meats.  We also bought some shoes at The Shoe Box.  At home, I would take a stunning hour-long nap.  In contrast, after the game MJ went out for a run up and down a hill in preparation for a 50-km cross-country skiing race at the end of February.  In contrast, the Bourbon Wall and Nicole's Friend stuck around downtown waiting for the 2 PM game skating for the Meteorites. 



Finally, here's a link to a poem by Matt Cook:

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2009/11/23