Being Gavin

Ya the days are gone now from my short life when I could lace em up and skate with the best of em. Ehh? You guys are thinking that I’m over the hill though. Well that ain’t quite right. I'm still walking with wood and kick some shit when I can. The north woods have been good to me and the years have been equally good as they’ve been equally rough.

I had some two goal games, hell I’ve even got a rookie of the year trophy from my first year in the men’s league. Most a ya that read my shit probably weren’t even a twinkle in your folks’ eyes yet back then. We won some league titles and we lost some too. It was all some good shit – no matter what. I mean I can even write ya a good story or two about injuries. Its all good stuff when ya been on the ice.

After my third year in the league and having completed my second season with Terry’s Tavern’s Sharks I got traded to the scum bags of the league – Happy Jacks Good Time Saloon Seals. We wore those damn yellow and green colors of the Golden Seals. Our sewn on emblems were these damn huge fifteen inch diameter, thick, son-of-bitches that didn’t breath to well and left ya hotter then hell. Crap I didn’t want to play for them. They always got their butts whipped and I figured I didn’t think that I’d be enjoying that.

Well the game a hockey bounces ya like a good board check and you come back from the impact with more vigor and vitality then you can imagine sometimes. Happy Jacks Good Time Saloon’s Seals is one fine example of this sorta bounce. We went from being the hacks to being regular winners if ya know what I mean. We went through a gradual transition to get there but we did. Some of the boys hung in for a heck of a time. Others passed through for a season or two. Kenny kept us together for many years. He went through some hell himself which is a story that I’ll tell you guys someday. We had Shep or “Suitcase” that’s gone on to become the mayor of some town in the Sierra foothills. Shit, I saw him about a year ago and he looked like he was as old as the hills himself. We had another infamous character Pete “Knuckles” Viger. For those a ya in the know – he was foiling up before foiling up became respectable (thank you “Slap Shot”).

One a best dang things we did as a team was to change our name to the Outlaws. Yeah the Outlaws are walking with wood boys and that ain’t no shit. Sure we spent a good deal a time pounding em at Happy Jacks but even they changed ownership and names. Sure we found other places to drink after that time but the Outlaws just kept on staying bound together pretty tight. And I’ll tell ya this every one a those boys that put on the yellow and green or the later black or white and gold are Outlaws. Ehh? Yep, Outlaws! And every Outlaw’s got a story.

Gavin was one those Outlaws that had been there for the long haul. He was on the team before I came on board and carried a bit of reputation with him. Solid and able to bring up an easy scowl he was always intimidating. Playing center with brute determination overwhelmed any weaknesses that he brought with him to the game.

He came from Detroit with a band of buddies. Not all of em played the game but they new that hockey was what bound us all together. Gavin looked like a beach bum when he was in street clothes. I think that the only time he wore socks was when he was in his gear. His hair was bleached from the sun, skin was always tan and that mustache of his made him look like a cowboy surfer. Before he ended up with the Outlaws he had spent about a year living on the beach in Hawaii with some of his crew. Chasin women and enjoying life. Ehh?

If my memory has it right he drove a V-dub van back then and owned a small catamaran. He kept the sailboat in the driveway at the house over on Randy Lane. Yeah, that house had some stories too. It was a big and fairly new two story that Kenny owned and rented to the guys. Mikey, one of my defensive partners, lived there too; along with Sully and off and on a couple of other guys who were either part of Gavin’s Detroit crew or just puck heads needing a place to crash. We had some pretty damn good hockey parties at that house on Randy Lane. Ehh, the tales it’s keeping secret? I can still remember the day that a bunch of us were over there watching Stanley Cup playoffs on cable cuz most of us hadn’t been hooked up yet. Must a been about a dozen of us eatin pizza and pounding brewskies. We we’re yellin and cussin and just generally having a good ol time. Kenny was there watchin with us and after the game was over he got up off a one a the couches, did his little stretch for show, surveyed the mess downstairs, and said “I think I’m gonna kick you guys out and sell this place.” Whoa dogs if the whole of the Outlaws weren’t in for change of eras from that damn for shit revelation. Kenny was from Buffalo, NY and they must raise em that way in blizzard city. No holds barred, ehh?

Mikey and Gavin got an apartment together down about a block from the ocean but it was never the same. We really never had a team house after that. Damn shame it was I’m tellin ya. I guess Kenny sold a bunch of the properties that he owned around that same time and banked the proceeds. Bragged a couple of years later that just from the interest alone he was able to buy a Mercedes for his gentle wife, Mary Rose. Now ain’t that a nice name – aw sorry guys, didn’t mean to be getting soft with ya here.

Well Gavin was a boisterous son of bitch. Don’t hold that against him though. Serves a purpose on a team to have a few like that. I told ya about T-Ball in some earlier story and these two guys carry the same weight in this department. Gavin would come into the locker room just all pumped and ready to roll. If his spirits were up then he was gonna pump up yours too. He was always shuvin and joking around with us before the games gettin us lit. I told ya folks a time or two how I needed one of my bro’s to blindside me in warm up to get my juices flowin, but Gavin didn’t seem to need any outside influences. Guys like that are good stuff for a team, ehh?

Shoot, one time he comes into the locker room and says that one team or other finishing up their game ahead of ours is just getting slaughtered. If that don’t get him all riled. He’s got his t-shirt pulled over his head now and starts tellin us about how way back when his great or great-great grandpa had instigated some horrific slaughter back in Michigan. Guess this was way before civilized times, cuz this forefather a his organized some posse or some such group of vigilantes and headed out to some island and killed all the injuns that lived there. Shit that’s nasty. But he just blurted it out and said he was pretty shamed by it now but when he was a kid he figured it was pretty cool. Yeah you young pups, us older folks were raised on TV cowboy and Indian shows – good guys versus bad guys. But who’d a thunk back then. Drugs and gangs and shit weren’t the norm back then. Ehh?

One of Gavin’s other little tricks took place during team pictures. He always lined up in the back row behind the guys that were kneeling. Then he put on his nastiest and grimmest facial expressions which I’ve already told ya was a damn ugly scowl. Ehh? And all the time while waitin for the camera dude to take a couple of shots, he’d be standin up on the tips of his blades adding about three or so inches to his appearance. Always the actor that way, sneakin in a punch on a guy in a melee and actin like he’d done nothin when the ref starts dishing out the time. Just totally full of it but we loved it just the same.

Some of the craziest damn stories he told us was from a time when he was still back in Detroit. Once he’d gotten a might concerned about a little lump on his pecker. With all the fooling around he partook of he wasn’t to sure what the hell it was so he went to the doctor. The doc did his examination and said it weren’t nothing to worry about. Its just a little planters wart and the doc whipped his own little johnny out and said “Look, see I’ve got one there too.” If that don’t beat all, ehh? What kind a doc would do that shit?

Another time he said that his crew had noticed an abandoned car in the neighborhood. Nobody had messed with it for a while so they got inside and painted the windows black. Used it for drinkin beer and other stuff that underaged punks ain’t sposed to be involved with. Gavin said that they pushed that car to a different spot every couple a days to keep it from getting towed away. Kind a reminded me of some guys I knew in my hood that went together and rented a small little run down store front place for their party shack. Gavin’s place was jus a might cheaper to maintain.

One a the best little stories about Gavin was again his rushin into the locker room all pumped and gettin ready to skate. We knew he’d been out huggin the boards watchin the game ahead a ours. We’d heard the final buzzer before he came in so we knew the game was over. Somebody says “Hey Gavin what was the score?” Without any hesitation he yells back “Three two tie boys, three two tie”, not even realizing the mistake he’d just made.

Years later he got all of his gear stolen and didn’t really skate too much after that. He had awfully wide feet and getting new custom skates that didn’t give him a lot a pain was a costly proposition to his part time job at the local paper. He’s stayed athletic over these years surfing and running marathons. It’s a good life and he’s still walking with wood.