This Is Not About Hockey

I did something stupid yesterday, not that that makes yesterday particularily remarkable.

I played hockey twice in the same day, something I cannot remember having done before, ever. I got a great workout at noon in our weekly Tuesday session in which 8 skaters and one goalie (me) showed up. A half-ice game was the result and a half-ice game means I never get a rest because the puck never goes down to the other end of the ice. On turnovers, all one team has to do is take the puck outside the blue line and bring it back into the offensive zone onside and the game continues. Since they played 3-on-3, one skater per side was on the bench so the skaters got a rest when they needed one and I stayed out there and when it was all over the tank was empty. Which was fine. I'm all about the workout. I'm playing for fun and to not die of fat and the heart attack it can cause.

Then I got an e-mail asking if I could sub in a league game that night and since it had been a couple of years since I'd played in a league game I wanted to give it a go. The game wasn't until ten and I figured I'd be able to bounce back and, besides, league games are different. There are referees and sometimes spectators and the games count for something and it can be fun. So I decided to play. I ate a light dinner and prepared myself mentally and all and I went out there and got lit up. 10-0, lit up. After the 8th goal, as the ref was collecting the puck from the net behind me, I asked, "What exactly do you have to do to get 'mercy-ruled' in this league, anyway?"

I didn't feel bad, by the way. Any time you give up ten you are, by definition, not playing well, but the game was a total mismatch. I figured had I played my best game, we would have lost 7-0. I think we only had one shot on their goal in the last two periods. I made a lot of good saves. There were just a lot of shots last night where there wasn't a damn thing I could do. It happens.

It turns out there was a reason I'd never played twice in one day. It's too much to ask of my body. Especially at my body's age. I've been trying to think of a lyric to mimic "living on reds, vitamin C and cocaine..." (which I'm thinking was by Country Joe and the Fish but probably wasn't), along the lines of, "living on 800 mg Ibuprofin, Vicadin and Aspirin..." but it hasn't quite come to me yet.

But, this isn't about that.

I got to the dressing room last night and while making introductions to the guys on the team I'd be playing with I learned they all worked for either some company I'd never heard of, or Visteon, an auto parts supplier. It turns out the other company makes brake pads. And it turns out that every one of those guys, all of them white-collar workers, had either lost or were about to lose their jobs. Most had been with their respective companies for 20+ years. The pregame talk was all about whether accepting a buy-out meant one could or could not recieve unemployment compensation. There was talk that COBRA might be less expensive due to President Obama's Recovery Act. Three of the regular players were not there because they were out of state looking for new jobs. One guy was talking to a friend about what he could do (and do fast) with the condo he could no longer afford.

Every guy in that room --there were a dozen of us --was out of work or days away from it. Including me. I felt sick. So many broken lives. I live in Detroit. We live and die with the auto industry here. I don't have to tell you that. But I'm not sure until last night I knew what that meant, exactly. Now, I do. And we are dying. It's not a recession here, friends. It's a depression.

That's what this was about.