Another Veteran Name for the Islanders IR

"Veteran Islanders Blogger placed on the IR Sunday, listed as day to day."


If I stay on it long enough, does that mean that Garth can't include me in any of the Vet trades?


After nine years my luck finally ran out. What started out as a great day of skating at Bethpage's beautiful new rink turned into one painful experience.


I talked my friend Wendy into going with me to Bethpage on Sunday afternoon because I really wanted to see the new rink. It was really beautiful. They've done a wonderful job on it.


I should have known something was wrong when I went up to the window with my little pink skate case and asked for entry.


"One" I said smiling.


"One Adult?" the woman behind the glass asked.


"Um. Yes." I was puzzled. Did she think I was a teen? Wendy said she may have thought I was looking for the Senior discount. (Thanks Wendy.)


"You're skating?" She asked still smiling.


"Yes." and I showed her my skate bag.


"Good for you!" She said as she seemed rather surprised. I paid. They stamped my hand with a fish.


Wendy was the one who ended up with the discount for being a volunteer. Awesome that Oysterbay does that.


There was no skate sharpening machine yet and no locks for the lockers, but the pro shop had all the right equipment..... that we didn't need.


The ice was fresh and clean, but very wet in both end zones. But we were happy to be there. Kids began to pour out onto the ice in everything from t-shirts to full snow suits. Little tots no older than three to older kids in full make-up and Hollister.

As always, there were the rare few "real skaters" present weaving through the crowd of slow-pokes along with pee-wee team members in full gear getting in a little extra time.


Wendy had a premonition. "One of us is going down today. I can feel it."


"If that's the case, I just hope it isn't me." How prophetic. After I said that, I watched how the kids were hitting the ice. I thought to myself that I really needed to LEARN how to fall so that I wouldn't be so afraid to. But I've been telling myself to take lessons for years now.



I was happy to see Vicki as she was around town and decided to meet us for the session. I fell in love with her pink hockey skate laces. They matched her freshly painted pink nails. Around and around we went. Stopping for lunch and coffee and the very well appointed snack bar with very reasonable prices.




At 2:15, we said we'd just hit the ice for a little while longer before leaving. There was water pooled once again on the end zones. The kids seems to enjoy falling into it and getting soaking wet. We tried to skate with care through it.


"I think I'm done." Vicki announced. "What time is it?" It was 2:40 pm and the session ended at 3 pm. We stopped for our usual on-ice photos and then one more lap around the ice and we'd leave.


Then it happened. In the flooded end zone. We were separated and a pre-teen boy with dark hair and rosy cheeks cut diagonally across the ice in front of me and took me down. Since I'm really pretty close to the floor myself, I managed to spare my back but in doing so my neck snapped back and my head hit the ice with a very loud THUD that I'm sure could be hear in the parking lot.






No one screamed, no one cried, but the profanities flew like a flock of seagulls.



"Stay down, stay down." the teen in the red Rink staff jacket told me while holding a squeegee.



"Where... are .... my glasses?" I was more angry than anything else at that moment.



"Are you alright? Are you dizzy?" Wendy asked while crouched down checking the look in my eyes. "Are you ready to get up or do you want to sit awhile." she asked. She was ready to help me up as she is a trained Volunteer Fire fighter and has extensive emergency training.



I, on the other hand, am a schmuck who had no idea how to even begin to get my fat ass up off the ice. In an unthinking act I blurted out "Let the men do it."



"I'll forgive you for that because you hit your head." she bristled.



Once on my feet the pain was evident. Vicki touched the back of my head to feel the lump. At least there was no blood on the ice.



They escorted me off, and Wendy with her training asked me the questions you are supposed to when someone may have a concussion. I sat on the bleachers, still cursing, while she went to the first aid station for an ice pack and Vicki helped get my skates off.



My head was killing me and my ass was wet. I was pissed as hell. The one thing I wasn't (which surprised me) was embarrassed.




So there I sat, with an ice pack on the golf ball on the back of my head, with my two closest friends watching me like a hawk. And all I could think of was...."So that's how that feels. Man does that SUCK!"


Should I ever be in that situation again, where a youngster has blatant disregard for the safety of his elders on the ice, I will be sure to.... Toss his scrawny ass down to the ground before I hit the deck.



But even this won't keep me off the ice. It just may make me a little more apt to call for those damn lessons!