News

The Cowboy Chronicles: Thrown Into The Deep End of the Ice Rink

Tuesday, 15 June 2010 17:00

Freelance writer Chad Buchholz is spending time with some members of Canada's Alpine Ski Team as they prepare for the upcoming season and he's agreed to send us a few updates. Here's the latest instalment of "The Cowboy Chronicles."

The Men's CAST hockey camp is unique in that it's completely optional. Those who don't want to be here or don't think they can participate simply don't have to come. This fact serves as striking testament to the dedication of these athletes then when the only team members missing are those either too injured (John Kucera) or too committed to other engagements (Brad Spence) to be present. Add to this the fact that ACA Director of Sport Science Matt Price himself has stated that the camp will be the toughest week of workouts in the whole summer and you should be able to piece together a pretty impressive picture of the drive to improve these guys are showing thus far into the 2010/2011 campaign.

Now we're only two days into this thing, but I'm already unsure of how much gas I have left in the tank. And I'm not even participating in the three-hour weight sessions that follow on the heels of the two hours of power skating, drills, and scrimmaging at Centre recreatif de Rock Forest just outside of Magog, QC. The hockey, led by former NHL star Felix Potvin and CAST head of sport science Matt Price (himself a former college hockey player who sniffed at cracking into the NHL), has been at the same time fun and challenging, and has forced me to reconsider my belief that I would never get older or slower, no matter how long I stayed away from the rink.

See, once upon a time I was a top-level minor hockey player with Major Junior tryout invites and a pretty good shot at some kind of pro career (maybe). Guys I once played with or against are not just in 'The Show' (i.e. the NHL), they're thriving there. You know that team from Chicago who just won that big trophy? At one time or the other I played against three of the guys on that team. Blackhawks defenceman Brent Seabrook and I used to hate each other (although he probably doesn't even remember my name anymore). If I hadn't had such a lousy attitude and so many problems with authority, I'd like to think that I might have been up there myself...

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that I brought a certain amount of Pride brand luggage to Magog with me. Sure, the Men's CAST are bonafide top level athletes, some of the best in the world at what they do, conditioned to a degree most of us can only imagine as we merely try to stay 'in shape,' but I am (or, was) a Hockey Player, and I'll be damned if I let some skier show me up on the ice.

At least, that was my mindset heading into this camp.

But I'm sitting here now, on Tuesday afternoon, with the sun outside shining over this little Quebecois town, listening to the tennis balls pock off of the racquets in the courts across the street, a mere one and a half days into this camp, and already I'm wondering how I'm going to make it through tomorrow's session. I haven't been on the ice three times in the last three years, let alone three times in three consecutive days. My hip flexors have ceased flexing to such an extent that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to make it up the stairs to go shower in fifteen minutes. My ankle has a blister torn out of it that's the size of quarter. Even now, as I sit slumped over this computer, I feel my back muscles tightening up to a point that I know in a few minutes is going to make it hurt to even stand. During today's game, Felix Potvin rang a slapshot off my toe, and now it's throbbing, too. And I won't even start talking about my groins.

And, like I said, this is only day two. During today's 4-on-4 scrimmage my team (the undefeated Red team, yeah), iced a roster of only six players vs. the White team's eight. This, somehow, meant that I, as a skinny-yet-somehow-out-of-shape writer/defenseman with some considerable-yet-rusty hockey skills, spent 55 of the game's 60 minutes on the ice in my defensive roll. This also meant that I could barely scrape myself off the ice by the time it was all over. And even though I wasn't the only one who had a tough time trying to reach his skates to untie them when we finally did get off the ice, I'm a bit worried that tomorrow I'm going to end up doing a little less defending and a little more watching the white jerseys skate by.

And so let it be said that the last thing I would consider doing right now is lifting any weights larger than 341ml in any shape other than Ice Cold Bottle.

In about an hour, though, the boys will be heading off for a weight room session that's going to involve things a whole lot heavier than a beer bottle. And if Price's assessment of yesterday's team workout is any indication - "It gave me chills," he said, "I've never seen them go that hard," - I'd be willing to be that they're not going to be taking it easy this afternoon, either.

-Chad Buchholz