Hawkish Hockey
blogMy first game of Hockey in months took me to the small village of Waterfoot. Getting there required a train from Glasgow Central to Clarkston and then an arduous cycle down windswept roads.
I was slightly anxious beforehand because hockey is outside of my comfort zone. You can’t revise a pass or a shot like you can revise a sentence or a web design. You have to live in the moment . . . the terrible moment, where you are forced to confront yourself without any amendments.
To get into the moment I have been trying to become an animal, to imagine that I were some kind of hockey-playing hawk. As I travelled I wondered if I could also be a train-travelling leopard or a blog-writing armadillo, but they weren’t quite as appropriate as the hawk. Like the hawk, I surveyed the scene, looked for opportunities, and then swooped in for the kill. And I must say that it seemed to work, I played much better than I have done recently (having been demoted from the fifth team to sixes).
Unfortunately we lost 2-0 and I had to eat a mouse to console myself.