So it has taken me a while to update the blog. I could make up excuses upon excuses, but the truth is that work has been manic and I haven’t had anything interesting or worthwhile to write. The last thing I want to do, is to make this blog as inane as my Facebook comments. Would you really want to read posts about me taking a crap, then we can definitely fix that.

The other reason I haven’t been updating my blog is because I’ve been eagerly waiting for my parents to turn up. I haven’t seen them in over 8 months so you’ll excuse me for being excited like a child. However, one thing that my parents did was to take me on a trip down memory lane.

We had just watched my wife’s game and I think that their team has gotten better over the course of the last few months and she has taken leaps and bounds in her playing (given that she started last year). My parents drew an interesting comparison between me and my wife. They said that we both take hockey to our final breath and that the game means so much to both of us. Then again, I have my hockey to thank (or blame, which ever you think is appropriate) for my marriage to her. You might eve say that hockey is the game that keeps on giving.

Anyhow, my parents then proceeded to tell me about my time playing for Utrecht and how I hated losing. At the time, my dad spent countless of hours driving me to and from games and training, as at the age of 16 I wasn’t allowed behind the wheel of a car. Or I was but the police might’ve had a word or two to say about it. Anyhow, my dad told my wife how I would spend the whole trip to the rink in silence just concentrating and that I would only answer if the question was something to do with hockey or the game at hand. On the way back though, I would be different, depending on the outcome of the game. If we lost, I’d be quiet for half an hour and then start ranting and raving about what we did wrong, what I did wrong and how I should’ve played that one situation where I missed a scoring opportunity. However, if we’d won, I wouldn’t shut up. I would go through the things that we did right and still criticise myself for doing a couple of things wrong.

It’s funny though. That was when I was 16 and not a lot has changed, except at my older and wiser (you wish) age I am maybe even more passionate about the game. It is interesting as I think my wife’s hockey competitiveness comes from me. She has always been competitive and sportive, but when it comes to hockey she’s only had me to mirror. Well at least she doesn’t have the bad temper I have.
Hearing those stories from my youth was actually fun. It reminded me of all the little things that I did and had forgotten over the years. I can still vividly see each rink and what they looked like and what stories and life lessons I have learnt from playing hockey.

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