Road Trip with T-Ball

One thing that I’ve always found pretty tight about sports is all of the nicknames. Who gives a rats-ass where they came from? I’d have to say that the nicknames of most pro athletes were created by the fans or sportscasters. I mean look at a few on my “short list” here:

Boom Boom – Bernie Geoffrian – what’s that tell you?

The Great One – Wayne Gretzky – certainly was – not so sure now.

Red Light – Andre Racicot – ooooh, sunburn city.

The Turk – Derek Sanderson – what the ……..?

The Golden Jet – Bobby Hull – blondie, ehh?

The Golden Brett – Brett Hull – like father, like son – you betcha.

The Pocket Rocket – HenriRichard – couldn’t be Rocket Richard could he?

The Russian Rocket – Pavel Bure – another “rocket” - ok.

Mr. Hockey – Gordy Howe – now that’s sayin sompun, ehh?

Chopper – Al MacGuinnis – should have been Radar with that slapshot.

In some of the other sports ya got Catfish Hunter, the Babe, William The Refrigerator Perry and on and on and on. Ehh – what’s it all mean? Shit I don’t really know.

And then you’ve got nicknames that are some sort of abbreviation or modification of the player’s name. These I can understand a bit better. They sound like they mighta come from the guys on the bench or back in the locker room. Like what’s wrong with Grets for Gretzky? Here’s a few of them that I can think of:

Ziggy – Zigmund Palffy – great with the Kings.

O – Gerry Odrowski – I coached his boys.

The Flower – Guy Lefleur – yo Habs!

Cheesie – Gerry Cheevers – shit I thought he was in a museum.

Rogie – Rogatien Vachon – Habs and Kings goalie, but with a nickname that you’d give a dog.

Ollie the Goalie – Olaf Kolzig – hey in the Northwoods if we call ya Ollie its cuz your last name is Olson, ehh?

Beezer – John Vanbiesbruck – a nickname every want-a-be goalie wanted.

Cujo – Curtis Joseph – sounds like a damn mutt’s name again.

So being from the Northwoods and all maybe I don’t know shit about nicknames, ehh? I mean, I’ve had a few over the years, like Bobby-O (I’ll never figure out where they came up with that) and the Team Bleeder (the season I got stitched up a few too many times). A lot guys just call me by my last name, Wheats – shit it’s what’s on the back of my jersey dabnabit. My brothers generally go by Bronzy and Jingles. Bronzy’s just a jazzed up version of Brian and I guess that even a rock band or media head could come up with that. But Jingles is a definite bench derived name for Jimmy. During his years in juniors, Jingles would get sent out on the ice (pretty….damn…..often…..folks) to take guys out the game, but when he was a midget he really knocked the socks outta some jackoff. When he came back to the bench, I believe it was the back up goalie that said “You really shook the jingles out of that guy”. And it stuck.

So some guys get named by their team mates and some get nicknamed by the fans or media muthas.

Well T-Ball got nicknamed by his buds. I ain’t real sure whether it was his on ice antics or bar room charisma that led to his naming – but it fit. His real name was Tim (I won’t use his last name here ‘case he wants to sue me for some shit or other) so the “T” was for that. And he lived hockey and life like it was just a non-stop speed ball (Not to say that he didn’t have to get rushed to the hospital few times due to extracurricular activities).

He was from Cape Breton Island (yo - Canadian Maritimes if that ain’t Northwoods, ehh?) and had somebody sponsor him so he could work down in the lower forty-eight. He worked as a plumber – hard worker – dirty work. Got his shirt caught in the pipe threading machine once. Spun him around about three times before some jerkoff figured he could stop it by un-plugging the machine. It really busted up T-Ball’s wrist and he missed more then a season. Sucks – not being able to play!

T-Ball wasn’t always an Outlaw. I think when I first met him he played for the Rangers in our league. Really tough guy to play D against. He’s about 6’-2”; I’d guess and maybe 210 – 220 pounds of solid muscle. All speed and good puck control – balls out sort of business and yappin at ya all the time. The league got all changed around and eventually fell apart which was when we joined up with a semi-pro league and T-Ball joined us.

He was good acquisition and I was coachin the boys by then. He was loud but daggone stimulatin if ya know what I mean. The guys needed a charge in their shorts and T-ball could bring it.

He could be damn down to earth though too. If he’d a been my son he would a made me proud. Give ya an example here. I had season seats to the Kings back then and they made the Stanley Cup finals against Montreal that year. T-Ball went to one of the games with me at Los Angeles’ Fabulous Forum (before Staples Center). I forget which game it was and I forget the score and the whole shebang except for this (Could it have been the beer?):

T-Ball jumps up out of his seat and says he’s got to get out to the lobby. I figure he’s got to take a leak cuz we’d really been chuggin em. But it was game on and you gotta hold it during play. Didn’t make any sense to me. I think the Kings scored while he was gone cuz it got really, I mean really loud. After a bit T-Ball comes running back up the stairs taking two or so at a time. He was beamin if ya know what I mean – thought maybe he’d just done a toot or two. But he yells at me “I just called my Dad back in Montreal on one of the pay phones!”. Well I thought his folks were back on CBI but he says, no his dad’s on a job in Montreal. He says “Wheats, I said to my dad to listen to this, I’m at the Forum for the Stanley Cup Finals. Then I took the phone away from my ear and held it out so he could hear the crowd. Shit, I get back on the phone with him and he say’s back to me “Yeah, wrong Forum, ehh?” Ain’t that something – smartass Pop.”

Yeah, he was ok.

On road trips he ruled.

Road trips are good hockey. Ya win some and ya lose some, but if ya got enough guys to ice a team its hockey at its best. Ya got rubber legs from the travel and ya got butterflies to counter that by pumpin ya full of adrenalin.

Secondly, road trips are partying. Folks, I’m telling ya, there ain’t no better partying then that of road trips. First thing that you do is designate whose hotel room gets the beer. That done then ya fill their tub with beers and ice. This shit is for casual thirst quenchin, gut bustin after last call and breakfast of course. Serious drinkin will be done at the bar after the game.

So the third thing is to scope out the neighborhood for a decent bar or two. You couldn’t always trust the local team’s recommendations and sometimes game results dictated that you really didn’t need to win in the bar too (though damn if we couldn’t if we had too).

On this particular road trip that I’m thinking of we were all set up at the hotel and had gone on to the rink to suit up. T-Ball dumps his gear out on the floor in front of himself. Kicks it around a bit and grabs a t-shirt and sniffs it then throws it in the trash. Grabs another one, sniffs it and throws it in the face of one our wingers. Kicks his gear some more and reaches out and grabs another t-shirt. He sniffs this one too and says “Aw, fuck they all smell like shit – what’s the dif? Probably’ll give me a little maneuvering room out there.” I’m telling ya that his gear just reeked.

Game on. Game over. Shower up and time to partaaaaaaaaaa!

T-Ball comes up to me before we head to the bar and says he’s got to run back to the hotel cuz he left his wallet there. Wanted to know if I could give him a ride. I thought about it for a sec – thinkin – he’s the chick magnet, I’ll look good walkin into the bar with him. So I tell him, “Yeah, lets scoot.”

We get back to his room and he snags his wallet off the top of the chest of drawers. He gives it a quick peek for cash and says to me “Wheats, ya need some protection? Grab a couple of those.” I look over at the chest and see that he’s got like thirty condoms of maybe five different varieties spread out on top. Holy shit, is he ready for the game later tonight, or what?

Good hockey! Good partying! Good night!

That was T-ball. That was road trips. That was walking with wood.