A Lert

So what’s a lert?

Sure, it’s a really stupid question that we used to ask when we were kids after Mom would tell us to be alert.

“Be a lert!” she’d scream at us.

Dabnabit. I didn’t even know what a lert was so how in the world was I supposed to know how to be one. My older sisters must have known cuz they didn’t get yelled at half as much me and my younger siblings did.

About the time that Jingles and Bronzy had started playing hockey it become sort of a family joke. She and Dad would be standing along the boards behind the fishnet and she’d yell at them “Keep your head up and be alert!” and then laugh a little or pat Dad on the back. Jingles had a habit of looking at his skates and Bronzy was usually playing with much bigger kids so the advice was not only, by then, a bit funny but also some good hockey advice.

Of course there were kids that I’ve coached and guys that I’ve played with that used another phrase of similar ilk (yeah, like I never used it myself) when appealing to a ref for his lack of a lertness – “Pull your head out Ref!!!” Kids will get a trip to the box for that shit.

Anyway.

Look you guys. I woke up about a week ago.

I mean, I woke up about a week ago and not from an overnight sleep. Not from a nap. Not from a lapse of attention. But, sheeesh, from a friggin ding-dang coma.

And my first bit of awareness was thoughts of Mom yelling at me to be alert.

No, she had not visited me in the hospital and said that to me in my unconscious state. She’s been up in heaven for few years now, bless her soul. But her memory and lessons live on and apparently quite heavily in my twilight subconscious.

Pretty weird, ehh? Kinda spooky if you ask me.

Does anybody have a take on this kinda crap? I’m mean, I’m sort of curious if she wasn’t, like communicating with me from the other side or something.

Your now asking, “Jasper how in the world didja end up in a freakin coma?” Right?

Well, I don’t remember any of this. It was related back to me by the good folks that have stopped by to visit since I woke up.

The medical staff said that I kind of waivered for a few hours coming out it. I moved a little vigorously they said and nodded back out. Then a bit later I moved again and wretched out of my dry throat “Honey could ya get me another cold one.”

Yup, thinking about being a lert and needing a brewski. Some would probably say that that’s just natural Wheat’s instinct – some sort of traditional family response kind of thing. I don’t know.

So the nursing aid called the honey and she came down right away. I guess I kind of waivered in and out for about a day or so. What I do remember was that the honey looked a wreck. My condition had just about put her away too.

I came home from the medical facility two days ago and can’t talk real well yet but I can punch this laptop keyboard ok I guess. (You guys wouldn’t have been able to read this if I hadn’t done some editing and typo correcting – “The Honey”) They moved me out of the hospital after about two weeks to a minimal care facility cuz of my insurance coverage. Seems as though the company I worked for went under while I was out of it. Guess they couldn’t function without me and our insurance coverage kind of went on the light side.

She’s filled me in on a lot, but so has Jingles, Bronzy, Stinky and Wayno. They were all with me when it happened.

I guess I wrote last about Wayno coming back to town, wealthier than shit. Right? Yup the dude’s for sure walking with wood. Do you recall that he had gotten better at hockey since I had last seen him? Hmmm. Let’s see, he had really sucked, but when he found me at Culla’s that night he claimed he was pretty good now, had taken lessons, been to hockey camps and had played all over the world. Ehh?

Me, being the way I am, I had taken that all with a grain of salt. But apparently the next evening, Wayno had called me at the cabin and said he had rented the rink for a couple of hours and could I get a hold of enough guys real quick like to ice some pickup. Curious about his skills, I was game and put some calls out to the Outlaws and the kids I coach on the Nightmare. I didn’t make all the calls but asked the ones I did call to call others.

At nine o’clock we had a good turn out with around twenty of us and three goalies. It was about an even split between kids and old farts so we decided skate that way. Wayno told me that those kids skated great and gave me kudos for their development. It’s not important but those kids were whooping our asses. Wayno said it was blast.

Jingles said that he was playing defense with me, he on the right and me covering left when Stinky lost the puck at the blue line on a breakout. Wayno said he was playing a sleeper out near their blue line so was completely out of the play. Stinky took a big sweeping old fart curve to get back into the play while the kid that stole the puck moved towards the boards on Jingles’ side. He passed cross ice to a kid that was just crossing into the zone. Bronzy shifted over towards him while Jingles dropped back into the right side of the high slot trying to stay with the kid that had made the pass. Meanwhile this big kid, I can’t remember any of their names (the doc said I might always have this problem now) was parked in front of our net and I was trying to move him. The kid crossing the blue line took a one-timer that Bronzy unfortunately got his shaft on. It gave it more loft with no loss of speed. The big oof in front of the net shoved back and I turned right into the slapper. The puck, apparently, hit me below my helmet on my left ear and skull as I was reacting and turning away from the shot at the last instant. It dropped me like a sack of potatoes as the puck jammed a small chunk of my skull into my brain.

I was out. I mean way out and I stayed in that fool coma for almost two months. What a weenie I’ve been, ehh.

Yup, out for two months and now awake for a week.

SHIT! What in the world did you guys let happen while I was out of it?????

Paul Newman passed away. Goodby Reggie, we'll miss you.

The NHL’s season just started for 2008/2009. That’s good.

The Republican Party’s got a hockey mom as their vice-presidential candidate. That’s good. And she’s attractive in glasses besides. That’s good again.

But what the HEY did you guys do to the economy? The honey says that our cabin and our woods are worth about half of what they were before I got bashed in the ear. And Wayno’s been working with her reviewing our savings and retirement accounts and he figures that their combined value has dropped like forty-seven percent or something in this same freaking time frame. This is so not good.

Not good! Not good! This is really bad. No job and an economy that sucks. Maybe I’m still in a coma, ehh?

Dudes and dudettes – that’s the shit that happens when you’re not being a lert!

New season, new start. Skate hard and keep your heads up, ehh!

Jasper here ‘til next time.

REGGIE

Slapshot’s Paul Newman or ????

Last Monday, May 25th, Paul Newman announced that he was retiring from acting. He cited his reasons being that he was having memory loss and couldn’t act with the exceptional ability that he had been able to for so many years. Most of us that are reading this (myself included as the humble writer) here at Jasper Wheats’ hockey humor blog remember Mr. Newman best in the 1977 movie Slapshot.

I’ve enjoyed watching many other movies that Paul Newman was in such as The Hustler, Hud, Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and The Sting. One of his more recent and one of my favorite movies of all time that he was in along with Tom Hanks was Road to Perdition. He has been a superb actor since the 1950’s. His departure from the industry will surely be noted by others and I’m sure that his peers will honor him with some sort of lifetime achievement award in the near future. He deserves it. Yup!

Paul Newman walks with wood folks! There ain’t no doubt about it.

He’s been involved with auto racing for many years now and started a salad dressing company that I believe his daughter currently runs. Heck, he’s been married to Joanne Woodward for how many years now? That’s lasting power folks! That’s something to praise in a man that’s worked in a industry that just seems to destroy marriages with vigor.

What a classic movie Slapshot was! It’s oft referred to as having a cult following. I couldn’t agree more. Paul played the part of player/coach Reggie “Reg” Dunlop of the Johnstown Chiefs. The Chiefs were having financial difficulties. The players were having relationship issues. And the team was on the verge of success with a winning season and heading into the finals. I’ve just got so many memories from that film – the infamous Hanson Brothers with their glasses and foiled knuckles, the on ice strip tease, the fights and the dirty play. All for good drama and great hockey humor.

Lots of those guys in Slapshot were real actors that knew how to play hockey. Others were hockey players that got bit parts. I got to play against quite a few of them two different times in my career as my Outlaws played against the Celebrity Allstars, once for a charity event and once if my memory serves me right for a TV show. Those are stories for another time, but I do remember drinking in the bar after one of those games with Jerry Houser. Jerry played the part of Dave “Killer” Carlson and some of you might remember him in other movies like Summer of ’42. I busted up Houser’s elbow pretty good in the game and he was showing off how swollen it was and that he needed more beer to deaden the pain.

Yup, don’t we all?????????
Newman was the binding force for the Chiefs. He believed in them and made up shit all the time to get them motivated. I’ve been there and done that, for sure!

Ehh? You guys are wondering where the humor is this week. Well, maybe there ain’t going to be too much. Maybe this week it’s just about reminiscing the good times. Maybe it’s taking me back to days gone past – days I miss. Shit I’m just a stinky old fart. Now days, for me, it seems like the most difficult part of hockey is trying to find the top outside hole in my left skate when I’m trying to lace up. Ain’t that a bitch though?

I can remember a game many years ago now – can’t remember the name of the team we were playing against though. Might have been the Maroons, can’t say for sure. Can’t tell ya if we won or loss either. It ain’t important to my story, ya know.

I got cross checked from behind by Saul Swanke. Hell of a hockey player, hard ass with a killer slap shot. Story goes that when he was kid his dad used to give him shit (I mean big time shit – beatings, ya gotta walk home kid – that kinda shit) if he didn’t play well. It apparently inspired him because he really was a good player. He had a sweet girl named Sharon. Kept her on a leash. They broke up later and she’s now married to one of Bronzie’s and my friends. Get Christmas cards from her and her hubby every year now.

Saul used to take faceoffs against Jingles regularly. Lot of pushing and shoving. Both of them tough as nails. Each of em respecting the other though. Saul never knew the origination of the nickname “Jingles” and would call him Bo Jangles instead. Jingles liked to dance and can’t say that Saul ever had his dance card filled either. There was always one more tussle to toss in these guys. Good stuff, ehh?

So anyway, Saul hits me hard from behind almost directly across the ice from our bench. I go down with my right hand out, not able to tuck anything in, and snapped my humerus (upper arm bone) into three pieces. Colin had seen what happened and skated over to the bench yelling “Jasper broke his arm.”

My folks had been at the game and my mom asked me later how did Colin know so quickly that my arm was broken. I had to tell her that as I got into a sitting position against the far boards that my right arm just sort of flopped about. Pretty damn obvious if you ask me. Shit howdy mom! Bless her soul now. Ehh?

Dad drove me over to the hospital and they had an orthopedic surgeon start working on the break. Awfully damn sure that they cut my jersey, shoulder pads and tee-shirt off of me that night. The doc kept shooting me full of zylocaine every minute or so while he tried to stabilize the break.

He wanted to operate on me and screw the bones back together. I was obstinate to no end having some major fear of surgery at that time. I’d had surgery before but just recently a friend of friend had gone in to have pins removed from his ankle and went into a coma during surgery. Uh ahh! No sirree, they weren’t going to put me under. Just keep pumping me full of that hot shit cuz this thing is killing me.

They put me in a half cast (splint) with a bunch of elastic wrap and admitted me to the hospital. The next day folks at work were told what happened and my boss figured that I was pulling some shit because nobody, I mean nobody gets admitted to the hospital for a broken arm. So I had to explain the whole deal.

The bone was in three pieces, ehh. Looking back now, surgery with the screws would have been the best choice. But no, I couldn’t do that. Instead they put me in a hanging-arm-cast. The cast had a rope embedded in it out near my wrist that slung around my neck. The cast itself was huge with all kinds of extra plaster to add weight. The cast acted like traction and pulled down on my arm keeping the bones aligned. I had to sleep sitting up for four weeks until the bones had knit enough so that they could put me in a fiberglass cast for the last two weeks or so. The doc would cut a little bit away from the original cast right over the break each week as I went in to see him. By doing so it corrected the way my arm hung and resulted in a fairly close correct realignment. He said that if he’d a done the surgery he couldn’t have guaranteed as good a job. Patted himself on the back didn’t he?

I’ll tell ya I went pretty nuts while that arm healed. I lived alone in an old trailer at the time. Damn if that pup didn’t have a leaky roof and if we didn’t get one hell of a storm one night. I’m sleeping in a recliner (yup – that’s sitting up) and I wake up. Pretty normal cuz the arm would throb every night and I’d have to pace around after taking some good pain medication waiting for it to kick in. Except tonight I’m getting dripped on. And that wasn’t the only place dripping. I get out some pots and in the worst place slide my big cooler underneath. Later I’ve got to dump these utensils – what a pain that was with one arm.

There are a few other things that are a pain in the ass to take care of with only one functioning arm. I won’t get into that but I’ll tell ya you sure end up knowing who your friends are.

So I had the joneses real bad for hockey. If someone would come pick me up I’d go watch the boys play. I remember one game that I was at where damn near a bench clearing brawl cut loose. There was as much crap going on off the ice as there was on. The rink didn’t have proper benches nor penalty boxes. If ya had a penalty then you went and stood next to the scorekeepers shelf off ice. I just happened to be standing right there when this shit started and an opposing player in the box started going at with our player in the box. I grabbed the opponent around the neck with my good arm completely forgetting about my broken arm. I actually pulled him away off the rubber mat up on to some steps. Screw his edges, ehh! I guess I’m lucky that he didn’t fight back against me and only wanted at my team mate.

But crap a rammy if I didn’t want to play. Ya live it. Ya breath it. I had to have it.

Somewhere along the way I recall that the doctor said I could start doing some normal stuff a couple of weeks after getting out of the final cast. I figured that that meant being able to play hockey. Damn right, ehh?

I didn’t figure that I was ready to skate with the Outlaws right away because that was a might physical, but there was Sunday morning pickup that I could do. A lot of the same guys that I played with or against would be there but it would be just for fun and not as much contact.

I suited up and it was kind a hushed in the dressing room. Most of the guys were going to skate off their hangovers – morning hockey for adults is waaaaay different then night hockey.

I got out on the ice and warmed up before sides were chosen. I can’t say who was picking for the other side but Lance picked me.

Lance was a big ox of a dude. Always had been an opponent, he played center and would park just outside the crease. Was a bitch trying to move him. We’d been in a little fisticuff years earlier and there wasn’t much good blood between us or him and the Outlaws. He and Jingles would go at it regularly and every chance in a competitive game he tried to take out Woody – hated his guts. Ehh?

It was just pickup, so what the heck, I wouldn’t have to worry about him tearing my arm apart if we were on the same team.

The second or third season I was with the Outlaws, Lance’s brother Terry had been my defensive partner. Damn good skater. Not as big as Lance and maybe a bit more sane. They had come from Boston and Lance was one heck of a Bruins fan. He was bud’s with Phil Esposito and would party with him anytime the Bruins were in town. It doesn’t matter how bad ass you are – hockey players are tight.

Lance was one of those guys that you could say made Slapshot a cult film. Back in the day he’d watch it over and over again. His teammates nicknamed him Reggie for Paul Newman’s character from the movie. It stuck. All of us in the league eventually called him Reggie. To this day if you yell Reggie when he’s in a crowd he’ll respond. Crazy yeah, he was a fanatic of the movie. He even had a Johnstown Chiefs jersey that he’d gotten all bloodied up.

So here we are back at that first session of Sunday pickup after getting out of the cast. I’m just a little nervous worrying what if I fall or what if I get hit hard and re-break my dabgone humerus again. But crap I’ve got the joneses and I’ve gotta skate.

I’m off in never-never land worrying and Reggie yells, “Hey everybody, listen up! Wheats just got out of his cast and if anybody hits him ya gotta answer to me. So back off and give him a little room this morning.”

I couldn’t believe it. Reggie saying that shit! Nah, never in a million years!

He did though. Ain’t making this up. He did. An arch enemy for years and years gives me some respect.

From that day on Reggie, in my book, was walking with wood.

I haven’t seen him for a few years now but Bronzie and Jingles skate against him every once in while. It’s not the same as the old days. No longer enemies, but respected opponents, friends even -- that party together in the bar and even at their kid’s birthday parties.

Hockey memories – they are the best! Hockey friends – ya can’t live without them – can ya?

Skate hard guys!

Jasper here – walking with wood until the next time.