Walter Mitty Survives His Turn in Goal

I survived my first turn in goal.

And, as a bonus, I didn't embarass myself.

The box score shows that the half I played in goal left my team down 5 to 4, with yours truly recording 3 saves. Not exactly an All-Star, but a decent showing for a newbie.

Of the 40 players on both sides of the two teams, there were two or three of us on either side of fifty, another half dozen north of thirty but south of forty, and the balance in high school, college, or recently graduated.

A 30 year old investment banker on my team sprained his ankle, and was heard to mutter "I'm as old and creaky as a darned forty year old." Ah, to be forty again !

Our team lost 12 to 9, and a 17 year old high school hot shot filled the pipes in the second half, allowing 7 goals while making 3 saves. In the box score the old guy looks a little better, which provides him more than a little satisfaction.

For those of you wondering what it's like to stand in the lacrosse goal and try to stop a hard rubber ball hurtling towards you at around 90 miles per hour, I can give you a one word answer:

Humbling.

I literally didn't see 4 of the 5 goals.

These guys are very good, very skilled, and very clever.

Only 1 of the 8 shots on goal came anywhere in the vicinity of my body. I caught that one in the large net of my stick.

2 of the 8 shots were above my waist and I was able to move my stick to catch them.

I had not a chance at the low shots.

Zing !

Turn around, it's in the goal.

Zing !

Turn around again, fish it out of the net.

I missed 1 high shot that safely slid in the nine square inches of the upper right corner of the goal. It was the only open space, and the guy hit it.

Amazing.

The only violence that took place around my goal crease was caused by my fifty year old orthopedic surgeon teammate who decided to flatten a college hot shot about to violate the space around the goal.

Bam, went the surgeon, hitting the kid high and hard.

Woosh went the kid, falling to the ground.

Roll, roll, roll went the ball, slowly moving towards the goal crease.

I reached across the line, pulled the ball into the crease, shouted a "Thanks Doc !" to my fellow oldster, and cleared the ball to a twenty something hot shot on our team.

I felt the breeze as he sped past me, on the way to plague the other team's goalie at the other end of the field.

Now that's living !