We’re midway through the Olympics and I’m enjoying them—while wondering how many more winter games can exist in this warming world. But that’s not what this blog is about.

I’ve discovered women’s ice hockey.

Well, I’ll be damned! That’s the game I used to love! But with women!

I’m sure women have been playing ice hockey as long as there’s been ice, but in my world a love of hockey began with the Big Bad Bruins of the 1970s. Truthfully, I didn’t clue in till the playoffs because my dad and brothers were watching and I wanted to see what the fuss was about. Bobby Orr, Phil Esposito, Derek Sanderson, Gerry Cheevers. The list goes on because the team was full of greats. They didn’t wear helmets back then. A lot of goalies didn’t wear masks either. Unbelievable. Cheevers marked his with where scars would otherwise be, creating a mask scarier than Jason’s. And goalie pads were tiny compared to today’s (and heavy, as I recall).

Once they started wearing more protective gear—a good thing because I remember the tough road Ted Green traveled to come back from a skull fracture—the players became more anonymous and I lost interest. Also, fighting became central to the game and that bored me. I wanted the stick work, the skating, the shooting.

I still get weepy seeing Bobby Orr, who played with so much heart and focused dedication on simply doing the best he could. No theatrics, no ego.

Like everyone back then, we played hockey. In the street or in the basement if ice wasn’t available. Kids like my brother flooded their backyards and set up a board and target to practice shooting.

Women’s organized hockey wasn’t a thing before 1972’s Title IX gave female students equal access to sports (and other things). Too late for me. According to Wikipedia, the first time women’s hockey hit the Olympics was 1998. Also the first year of a national college championship for women. That feels…so recent! The fact that a professional league exists for these players after college is phenomenal.

In school, I had to settle for field hockey, which I loved, if not the whole team thing with egos and drama. But the fact is, I am no jock. In junior high, I decided I’d try out for a sport. I didn’t make any team. The closest I came was reffing a softball game and being yelled at by younger grades.

Entering high school, I my only goal was to make it onto a team. They had a special locker room for teams, and I vowed that I’d get into one before I graduated.

I made every team I tried out for the first year. Field hocky in the fall, basketball in winter, and lacrosse in the spring.

What do you do when you achieve your goal on the first try?

You get bored. Especially if you aren’t all that good but you don’t know the first thing about how to get better, or, to be fair, don’t have that driving passion. I wasn’t horrible. I gained a reputation in field hockey because I was fast. I could hit the ball backhanded. In lacrosse, I don’t even remember what position I played or if I was any good, but I loved the sport. I loved the coordination of cradling that ball in a small leather and catgut net at the end of a wood stick while charging down the field. In a skirt. No helmets then, no teeth guards. Shin pads at best. And no boundaries. You could run behind the players bench if you needed to.

Basketball was horrible. Indoors. Running wind sprints up and down a basement hallway. Spending most of each game on the bench. The only way I could get a basket was by standing right under it. I quit sometime in the second year. My coach was disappointed but didn’t try to talk me out of it. I don’t remember what excuse I gave. I simply didn’t have it in me. I just didn’t want to do it anymore.

Now I see a whole new world has opened to me. It’s not just that women playing hockey is cool, they actually play the game I want to watch. With little checking or fighting, it is nonstop play and they are incredible. I have to retrain my eyes to keep up with the action (aided by a better screen than the black and white CRT of my youth). Add a cool first: Laila Edwards is the first (and only) Black woman to make the U.S. women’s Olympic hockey team. Representation matters.

And it’s not just the hockey. Sure, I watched Lindsey Vonn crash. I have no opinion on that other than admiration that she took it to the max. Doesn’t always work out, but I could see going out broken being better than quitting too soon (assuming she’s done with skiing; you never know with her!).

Ilia Malinin showed us what makes the Olympics different from other world championships. (Maybe burn that Quad God shirt?) I’ve loved ice dancing since Torvill and Dean. The judging has changed into something no one can follow. Back in the day, you knew right away how certain judges were favoring or penalizing teams. Now it’s more opaque, but maybe not more fair. I have no answer to that. I enjoy watching the performances. And Johnny Weir’s snark and snap.

My takeaway on medals is that Gold is hoped for and maybe expected, Silver is a failure, but Bronze is awesome because you made the podium! Be that kind of athlete and person. Do your best, accept failure, don’t gloat, don’t pout. I enjoy watching athletes perform (from the comfort of my recliner, no less). All I want is each doing the best they can. Please feel good about that if you can.

So…what’s on tonight?

For More:

A nice tribute to the Big Bad Bruins, The 1970 Boston Bruins: Big, Bad and Bobby (2020)