Field Hockey Dreams

I used to play field hockey when I was in junior high, high school and for 2 years in college. I was a goalie, and like to think I was good at it. In seventh grade my team was not only undefeated but also un-scored upon. In high school my team went to the state tournament 3 times, 2 of which I was the only goalie for the whole season.

I remember when I agreed to be the goalie. Coach Lap, who was my coach in sixth grade, asked who wanted to be the goalie. I raised my hand, and she tossed me the gear. I went home, excited, to tell my Mom.

“Guess what? I’m the goalie!”

“What?” Mom asked. “Don’t you think that’s kind of dangerous?”

“Come on, Mom, I am covered head to toe in padding. I’ll be fine.”

I was covered head to toe in padding, but the thinnest part was on my thighs, which were always covered in bruises from taking shots against them every fall. My senior year of college was the worst, when I didn’t have adequate thigh protection. I wore my bruises proudly, as I was the bad-ass goalie.

I loved the sport when I played in high school, but actually hated my teammates and coach. My love for the sport kept me playing, but my hate for most of the girls on the team kept me sitting alone on the bus to away games without talking all that much.

My sophomore year of college I decided to play again. My freshman year I had backed out at the last minute because I was concerned with having enough time to study—I had just become a DJ on the campus radio station and I had a boyfriend too. Sophomore year I joined the team, and met some of the nicest women I’d ever met. They weren’t at all like the girls I played with in high school, who were also those mean cool girls that you hear about in high schools. My love for the sport extended to actually enjoying spending time with my teammates as well, as we partied all over campus after games. The sport was fun for me again and I wish I could find a league in Rhode Island and play again.

Ever since that first fall with I was in sixth grade, I have had dreams about playing field hockey. The dream is always the same. I am standing in the goal cage, and the ball is coming at my non-stick side—my left. In the dream I kick my left leg out to stop the ball against my shin-guard. In my bed my left leg actually kicks one frantic time, to stop the ball in my dreams. Whoever happens to be in bed with me inevitably ends up with a bruise in his shin as a result of this dream.

I had the dream the other night. I haven’t had it in a few years, because the last time I actually played was 1995. It was a beautiful dream, and I woke up smiling. Now off to scour the Internet to see if I can find a local league to play on.