Trouble, that starts with T...and rhymes with B...

I got in big, fat, huge, trouble with my Coach this weekend. Thing is, I was mad at him but he turned it around and said he was really mad at me. What do you do with that? It's a good ploy. I'm going to use it in the future when I piss someone off. I'm just going to spat back, "Yeah, well, I'm pissed at you!" I tell you, if you are the first person pissed, you are going to be confused and speechless.

We had two of the worst refs in the history of hockey officiate our game on Saturday, and I use the word officiate only because that's the official word but says nothing for what these two bimbos did. One of them PLAYS in our league, in our division. Um, hello? Conflict of interest? She called 6 penalties on my team. We usually have between 0-3 penalties. The other idiot ref called NOTHING. Except the game winning goal by our opponent when our NET WAS OFF. In any other game, the goal would have been waived off. This other ref is an absolute beginner ref. She is timid, scared, and squeals when the puck comes near her. Yep, squeals like a piglet.

[My co-alt-cap't wrote an awesome letter to the Head Ref/Ref Scheduler about our concerns. His cookie-cutter reply, which we've received once before, was blah, blah, blah, not enough refs for women's games, blah, blah, blah, they are Level I USAHockey certified refs, blah, blah, blah, no ref, even himself, can call a perfect game. I swear to gawd, I could ring his scrawny neck.]

Coach thinks I let the refs get to me, which then rendered me useless. I say, yes, I was pissed on the bench and made some choice comments, BUT, when I jumped on the ice, my focus was on the puck, my linemates, and the opponent's goalie. Since he makes the rules, he won. Pulled goalie, 6 skaters, B is once again warming the bench.

Now, I don't expect favors. I take a ton of lessons and practice every day. He doesn't play favorites with my teammates (or me--even though he tells me I'm his fav, I think he says that to all the girls) who take lessons from him, clearly! But, I think my hard work and dedication have earned me a spot. (He picked a sub over me...) Not to mention, he keeps telling me I can skate and shoot. His reason for not playing me in the last 2 minutes: "You lost your mind."

Not until he told me that.

How can I convince my teammates that I'm the go-to player if my coach doesn't show them that he believes in me? He says he believes in me but he also says (on a weekly basis!) that he wants actions, not words. OKAY! ME, TOO! Actions. No excuses.

So he got pissed that I got pissed. What is that? I couldn't even watch the end of the game. I get benched and I thought I was skating hard all game. I was blinded with rage in the locker room and understandably did not want to discuss it in front of all my teammates, nor in the lobby in front of all the honeys and random people sitting there. Even at the bar, three shots and four double cocktails later, it was not finished. It took 24 hours to get us back straight...sort of.

Although, he did remind me in my lesson today, 37 hours post pissiness, that I made him really mad this weekend. He's normally a very calm, voice of reason. He's easy-going; doesn't seem like much would piss him off. Sometimes I just don't read people. "Wow, you're lucky. People surprise the shit out of me."

Thinking back on it, I may have a serious anger issue with bad refs. In my men's game on Sunday the refs actually told me to keep my mouth shut or they would toss me. Now, I didn't swear at them or yell. I got cross-checked in the chest and knocked on my ass by one of the jerky opponents. I got up, and tried to get the puck. Our goalie covered it. Whistle blew. I skated to the ref and asked how that was not a penalty. He said, "If it's a penalty, I'll call it and you keep your mouth shut the rest of the game or I'll toss you out." REALLY? SERIOUSLY?? I was very calm when I asked and I really did want to know. He was standing three feet from this non-penalty. Head down with shame: puck drops immediately following this repartee, and I slash the shit out of the back of the legs of the guy who cross-checked me. TWEET! Two minutes for me. My D partner suggested maybe I seek out anger management classes and my good friend Bug o' Death (also on my women's team) sat quietly with me on the bench, post 2 minutes penalty rest, and said, "B, please go to your happy place. This game is really important and we need to win it." Maybe I should seek out these classes before I'm ordered by a judge.