That was the time staring back at me from the scoreboard clock at the end of the rink. 7:28 AM. It was this past Thursday and I was on the bench, well past warmed up in my 7:00-8:00 AM shinny, between shifts, and I remember thinking very clearly about whether I had had too much coffee with a light breakfast a little over an hour before, or not enough.

Thursday morning hockey is new for me this year. I haven’t played regular morning hockey in so long I can’t remember when the last time was that I did. Perhaps never. I do recall one particular group I spared for some morning during the week but that may have been pre-kids so is effectively somewhere after the point in time where the asteroid did in dinosaurs in and today. Long ago, in a land far away. You get the idea.

And so, back to this moment, it was a brief moment in time, (7:29 came along straight away) and then it was time to get back out there and I never did answer the question about the coffee. On the drive home, the moment was crystal clear enough to warrant a mental note taking that I should document it here on rinktales for posterity sake.

It was a great skate that morning, the good guys won (yes, we keep score in this particular group) and I felt so good driving home, (tired as hell, ready for a nap by 8:15 and not ashamed to admit it although I held out until after lunch), that I messaged the organizer dude and asked him to add me as a spare to his Tuesday morning skate.

Hockey life is good.