Balls! Hockey Balls!

So. I started hockey!

Never picked up a hockey stick in my entire life and now, at 28, I feel the need to do so.  That was last week Wednesday. It’s almost a week later and I can’t even bend down to pick up a pencil let alone a hockey stick. Either I’m getting old really quickly, or I seriously under-estimated the power of the sport.

I’m hoping it’s the latter.

Got trials tomorrow to see if I can make a team. There are only 2 teams and not enough players for anyone to be left out of one, so my chances are pretty good – even for a beginner.

But to be fair to myself, I’m not totally crap.

I mean, I can zip up and down the field, or astro, or whatever they call it. It’s just making contact with the speeding ball that I’m battling with. And let’s be honest, no-one wants to pass the ball to a screaming newbie waving her stick in one hand and her fist in the other, tearing up and down the side of the field like the fat kid who never got picked first, screaming “I’m open I’m open, pick me!”

Perhaps it’s too much enthusiasm, too fast!  

Nonetheless, my spirits are high. As are the levels of Deep Heat I’m applying each day. And … I bought my first ever piece of hockey paraphernalia to practice with.

It looks nothing like this.

The little sis, who happens to be a Natal Hockey Champion, was with me and she called me lame when I picked up a sparkly pink ball just like the one in the picture. So I just got a normal blue one. And then I went back the next day and bought a multi-coloured one with dimples. Now I can play with both my balls while I watch the Good Wife tonight.