Disclaimer: After being a board member, I feel like I need to say this: This blog continues only my opinion and my opinion alone. Nothing I have written was approved by, condoned, or suggested by the St. Louis Blues Warrior Organization, Board, or coaches.
Here is my After Action Report on my first tournament with my new team. Ghost Squad is our code name for the St. Louis Blues Warriors Team White. There is no cool way to say Team White or White team. Especially if you want to do a “White(s) only” practice or scrimmage. That just does not sound great at all, and you certainly couldn’t say it out loud. So, we pondered code names for Team White that did not sound like we were a white supremacist group. Our first group bonding project as a newly constructed team. What’s cool sounding, white, but not racist? Freaking Ghost Squad that’s what.
Our first tournament together just happened to be the biggest one of the year, the Warrior National Championship. No pressure for the new team. I am as usual going to be brutally honest, self-deprecating, but judgmental. I may hurt some feelings and dispel some opinions my teammates wrongly have of me, but I just say it as it comes out. It is the only way I know how to be.
If anyone in the Squad is reading this, I love you guys like you don’t even know. What I am about to say cannot sound any other way than insulting but I promise I do not mean it that way. I learned so much about you and so much about myself on this trip. In the almost seven years and four or five different versions of teams I have been rostered to as a Blues Warrior, this team is definitely one of my favorites and I hope it stays together for a long time regardless of what I am about to say. Ready?
I had been dreading this tournament since the day I was rostered to this team. They may or may not know who they are, so I will keep names out of it, but there are some of the most annoying people on earth to me on this team. Mostly because they speak non-stop. I could not imagine being in the locker room for their competition of who can talk the most. What a crappy thing to say, right?
I was astounded to hear my new team pile on compliments of me and to me, clearly not knowing I had such a snobby, judgmental, and outrageously impatient personality. Multiple times I heard, “Let’s win one for Pops” and “We have got to do this for Pops.” From the very people I expected to actually annoy me to death.
I am not sure how that is physically possible, but I was pretty sure my brain would figure out a way to be annoyed to death by this gang. I am such a POS. They could not have been more respectful, generous, kind, and honorable.
In my defense though, they talk a lot. I mean a lot. I also believed them all to think they are better hockey players than me and were constant competition. Rivals instead of teammates. NOTE TO READER: I am not proud of any of this. I lay it bare only to ask your forgiveness and hold myself accountable in order to not be this way.
Ever been in a military briefing, corporate meeting, training session/class and there is always someone that just has to say something when it should be over? Like the “I want to piggyback on” or “Hey can I say something” “Hey I got a question” guy/girl? You know, That Guy. It’s always way after everyone else wants out or has had enough. We have like five of these people on the team.
Ghost Squad, your teammate and defensive captain for the tournament “Pops,” is very likely the most impatient human being you have ever met. He is also so insecure he projects his insecurity on others and gets mad when they don’t see themselves the way he does. This is due to his overactive imagination of how other people view him and his desperate need for people to like him and think well of him. So bad I wonder what you’re saying about me and/or how bad I suck at hockey if I leave the locker room first. Sad and ridiculous.
It is a constant and vicious cycle I would give anything to break. Thank you Dr. Cotton, it only took me eight years of therapy to figure out the issue. Abandonment issues or some crap. No idea how long it will take to fix if it ever can be fixed.
Patience is not a virtue for me. It is a constant battle between mind and soul. I want to get to the next thing. Next game, next conversation, get to the damn point already. I am always in a hurry when there is no reason to be in a hurry. Waiting for anything in life is painful for me. I am always the angriest person in line, but never want anyone to know what a jerk I am so I keep a quiet murderous inner monologue in every line I have ever stood in.
That said, as always hockey heals. Not only would I be on the ice with these people and in the locker room, but the majority of us were also going to stay together at the same Air BnB for five long exhausting days. An actual nightmare scenario for me and my absolute lack of patience.
To my shock and awe, this turned into five days of laughter, rest, and camaraderie I was obviously not expecting. God did take some pity on me for times of reflection from rides to and from the airport to the games, and to the store. He placed me in the rental car with three of the quietest members of the team who have no problem going for hours without saying a word. That was nice and very helpful as I studied why I was such a jackass, and learned to understand each of my teammates, and how to not get mad at the folks I found so talkative and lacking in self-awareness. I was the one with no self-awareness. See kids even at 52 you can still learn to not be a dick. (Sorry mom for the language)
Well, I learned these gang of gabbers were well aware of how much they talked. They brought it up, their wives and kids made fun of them for it. I learned to just know their chats and speeches were coming. I began to giggle to myself when sometimes they would try and talk over each other. However, I also learned to a man, not one of them had a mean bone in their body and there was nothing they wouldn’t do to have my back on and off the ice. If I would just shut my judgement and impatience off and listen, I could learn from them and about them. From here I discovered the problem was with me and not them.
I told them we were playing a certain team that had cheap shot me in the head so hard I was unconscious for a few minutes and ended up with two concussions in one weekend because of it. This happened at our own first tournament in St. Louis in front of my mother. The first game she ever came to watch me play. Also, the only time one of my nonmilitary friends from high school ever came to support me.
It was humiliating and ruined that whole tournament for me. Captain Ben announced this crime to the locker room and my teammates vowed to avenge this crime and boy did they. I was honored almost to tears. They played a physical, but not dirty game. I never want dirty play as revenge. I just want the offenders to never forget who they played. As we did with every other team in the tournament but one, we beat them soundly. I doubt they will forget. In their defense they played us tough but fair. Whoever that guy was I guess will just have to live with himself.
Ugh the team we did not beat. We played them Game 1 and spoiler alert, they would end up our eventual championship game opponent. I cannot seem to write one of these hockey related blogs without using the word “sandbag.” Definition: Sandbagging is the deceptive practice of deliberately concealing one’s true ability, potential, or intentions to gain an unfair advantage. It involves downplaying skills, underperforming in competition, or lowering projections to surprise opponents, manipulate opponents into a false sense of security, or ensure victory. This tournament was the fairest one I have played in, yet I will say that. The team that beat us for the championship only had two sandbaggers, and for the most part we still had opportunities to beat them anyway in both games.
Every USA Hockey tournament from the boys’ youth hockey to the Warrior tournaments, it is evident and obvious that USA Hockey’s primary concern is to take as much money as possible from each organization regardless of if they are a profitable club hockey org or a non-profit charitable organization for disabled veterans. Their job is to look over the rosters for skill levels and make sure there are no sandbaggers that will unfairly rule their division of play. They absolutely fail at this every single tournament. It really comes down to the integrity level of each team whether they play fair skill level wise. As the Warrior organizations grow to include more veterans without any hockey experience instead of beer league players who happen to be veterans, this has gotten much better.
In one of the greatest triumphant athletic days of my life, I was accused personally of being a sandbagger and later accused of playing for a team of sandbaggers. These “compliments” as far as I am concerned, came from the biggest group of sandbagging teams in all of Warrior history. Just a few years ago one of these teams played three skill level tiers below their own tier to beat our lowest tier St. Louis Blues Warriors team by 20+ goals and then brag about it on social media and got rings, each player posted their “Day with the Cup” like they won the Stanley Cup. It’s to this day the most ignorant thing I have seen a Warriors team do.
After every STLBW game the St. Louis Captains have a tradition of awarding a game puck or challenge coin to a member of the opposing team. We pride ourselves on keeping this tradition no matter what. Win or lose, clean or dirty, we go and chat up the opponent, thank them for playing us and honoring their MVP as far as we are concerned. Most but not all Warrior teams come into our locker room and do the same. This team’s captain came into our locker room and accused us of sandbagging to our faces.
I’ll give them credit for that, I guess. However, the audacity they had to accuse us of their own nasty behavior was well…kind of awesome. We didn’t take the bait. We thanked them for playing us and watched them walk out. I found it ironic maybe, but mostly hilarious. I can assure you we were in the right tier.
Full of pride after winning game 2 we went on to win games 3, 4, and 5 soundly. We weren’t sandbagging we have just gotten better collectively over the past couple years. Several of us like me started out on upper level teams but got moved in as more talented players joined the Blues Warriors. This is the first time I have had to or gotten to play six games in a four-day tournament. Thank God I have removed 75 pounds of fat and traded it for 15 pounds of muscle since my last National Championship tournament. Not sure my old body would have made it through six games. Still, it was not enough. Not ready to talk about losing the championship game yet.
The Air BnB as always is the best part of the trip. Hotels have gotten so ridiculous and we can’t get the whole organization, a whole team, or even a whole line on a team to stay at the same hotel, so we have done what the other teams have been doing and getting as many willing teammates as possible into one big mansion with a pool etc. It’s still not my favorite housing method because we rarely see our other teams on these trips, but that’s a dream I have given up on. What it does do though is bond a team together by tightly staying under the same roof.
We eat together, bitch together, ache together, share pain relievers (legally), get boozed up or stay sober together. We learn each other’s actual names. How many kids people have and all the good stuff. We swap VA nightmares and actual nightmares. We pick each other up and in this team’s case even with my hidden dark side we never put each other down. Well, unless it was for laughs. In that case we did a lot of putting each other down, but for lighthearted comic effect only. We never attacked each other though. Not in the house, the car, airplane, locker room, or the bench. This is not all that typical I can tell you that.
We had something going together. We started out that first game nervous, mostly feeling each other out and kind of ignoring the other team completely. We discovered this is a good way to go down 4-0 in the 1st period. The 2nd period we started to get in a groove, and we came back and with a couple more minutes we could have beat them. I can’t remember the score because, brain damage. From there on there was a feeling we could really do something together. The more war stories and beers we shared the stronger the winning feeling got.
All weekend we sat around the living room or the pool and watched NHL playoffs, Shoresy, and someone had the awful idea to watch replays of our own games. Awful being due to the video appearing as if it’s being played in slow motion and we appear to be skating in mud. We sat around with Coach and Former St. Louis Blue Dwight Schofield (he hates Shoresy), ate meals with the whole team usually around and even had some visits from our brothers and sisters from Team Blue.
Shout out to Coach “Schoey” (Not Scully or Sully for Pete’s sake…dang I am being mean again). When you are demoted from three different teams in a year and a half or so, you build yourself quite the confidence problem. Especially when you’re as big of a mental case as I described above. I played strictly to not make a mistake. I think Schoey finally fixed it by scaring the crap out of me on the bench.
I am a stay-at-home defenseman who only wants to back up his goalie by clearing the crease and back up his offense by holding the blue line. I do not dare pinch into the offensive zone, take shots at the goal, and at all costs never cough up the puck to the other team. I mostly don’t want to be seen. The perfect boot camp recruit that never draws attention therefore never gets yelled at.
The next demotion is always at the back of my mind during every practice, scrimmage, and game. It is not a lot of fun and as I announced to some folks as such, I was seriously thinking of giving up hockey altogether because it just wasn’t any fun anymore. Schoey was chewing on me relentlessly to “stop panicking” by getting rid of the puck as soon as I got it. I didn’t feel like I was panicking. I wasn’t giving it to the other team. I was afraid the other team was going to take it from me, so I passed it to a teammate as quickly as possible. However, even though it was to a teammate sometimes they were suicide passes to them and not that great because they were so quick from me, so I guess by definition I was panicking.
He asked me if I was aware I was allowed to actually skate over the blue line. At a certain point I got a “stop f’ing passing it as soon as you get it. F’ing skate it yourself.” After that I was in a certain amount of fear of physical violence from a former NHL enforcer, so I stopped immediately passing the f’ing puck. I absolutely started skating the f’ing puck. A whole new world of hockey suddenly opened up for me. I was not going to cause any reason whatsoever for Schoey to yell at me again.
Suddenly I was holding onto the puck forever, no matter what the other team did they were not getting it from me and I was not going to pass it to anyone unless it was the best possible play. Otherwise, I was skating right over that blue line, turns out that line is actually under the ice and not a wall you have to jump over. Who knew? Schoey did, that’s who. Confidence out of nowhere. Thank you coach.
That confidence was high until the last game. Guess I am ready to finally talk about it. I started out on Team Charlie and played with them for about two years going to every out-of-town tournament there was. We all stayed together, dressed up in costumes etc together, road tripped together, and got slaughtered about every game together. The second I got cut they went on to win three Championships in a row. That was really hard to take. I was happy for them, but I was yet again on teams getting sandbagged and crushed.
Then I got cut again. I was angry and felt betrayed to be honest. This was really helping my “what are people saying about me behind my back,” complex like crazy. I was bound and determined to prove everyone wrong. I was going to lose a lot of weight, take extra skating lessons and hit the gym. I was now on the lowest level team, but I was going to shine in the Gateway Classic (our local tournament). I was down my first 25lbs and at the gym five days a week plus my skating class. And then I tore the crap out of my rotator cuff. I was going to be out of hockey for at least six months.
Mother trucker. This was freaking devastating. And the reason I haven’t posted anything for a long time. Having surgery and being homebound for months was soul crushing. I felt like I was going to have to start all over again which I kind of did. Are there worse things that can happen to me? Of course. Whenever you are already clinically suffer from “severe depression” being stuck in a recliner 24/7 for months is not helpful whatsoever. I only say all this to give you the context of just how bad losing this championship game felt. I had put so much pressure on myself after the demotions and almost seven years of losing non-stop.
At last year’s Nationals I subbed for Team Blue and we got to the semifinals. That is as close as I have ever gotten to the championship. I wanted this championship so bad. I wasn’t the only person on Ghost Squad to have been demoted and playing with a chip on my shoulder. I was playing not just for me but for them too. We had a lot to prove to ourselves and the organization.
As I recall we were still winning 1-0 in the 3rd after a miracle shot by “Ovie” in the 1st. I knew we would need more and we were pouring it on their goalie who we later found out was actually a Bravo level goalie. Explains the 1 goal after 40+ shots. I even had 2 on him and I rarely shoot. Guess I need to learn how now that I have been convinced to do it more. The point is we were all painfully aware it was going to take more than 1 goal to beat these guys, so we all gave it everything we had. I felt like everyone was leaving it all out there. Sacrificing their bodies, ignoring their egos on ice time a shortened bench, and nonstop pumping each other up.
Our brothers and sisters from my former Blue and Charlie teams came out strong in the crowd for a 7AM game they got up early for when they didn’t have to. They were so loud we could hear it and feel it. As we got deeper into the 3rd period I started to believe we were going to pull this off. After all the years of disappointment, pain, feeling like the worst player to tie up their skates, this just might happen. Then I went out for a face off in front of our net. The puck came straight to my foot, so I kicked away as hard as I could towards the far boards, but it never got there, red helmet guy reached out and caught it with his stick and terrible movie slow motion, he shot the snot out of it and right past me into the net.
You could feel the air get sucked right out of the rink on our side and it fill up with a roar on their side. And it was my fault. We coached and preached all weekend you make up for your mistake, so after that every chance I got, I tried to assist a goal or score one myself. I blocked shots and, in my mind, there was no way I was going to let us lose this game. I would put it on my own shoulders and win it alone if I had to. But I forgot. Hockey doesn’t normally work like that. Not even in the pros can McDavid or Crosby win a game by themselves. What a narcissistic jackass.
I have never skated so hard in my life, but a couple of shifts later their other sandbagger, I mean more skilled than us player, trucked right on past our entire line and I knew he was going to score before I heard it. The dude has a wicked shot. There was nothing Half Wall or any of our other Warrior goalies could have done. It was a wicked championship caliber goal scorers’ goal. I felt my heart physically break apart in my chest.
I had been chosen as the alternate captain for defense. Our pregame speeches came with several cries “Let’s win one for Pops!” I kicked it right to the guy. Why didn’t I do anything else? Anything. When I saw their captain flying down the boards for the game winner why didn’t I come from the other side and crush him into the boards, trip him, or dive in front of his feet? Didn’t I want it that bad? I felt like I did. I tried to get to him and stop him, but he was just too fast.
I felt instantly like this was going to be my last game ever with the Blues Warriors. I was on the ice for both goals. I could not have felt worse (relative to hockey). I distinctly remember taking a mental picture of each and every one of my teammates and seeing the utter disgust, horror, and disappointment on their faces. Our brothers in the stands and their families silently shaking their heads. “I did that” was all I could think.
I sat on the bench, and I am sorry not sorry began to bawl my eyes out like a little girl. Never in my life, other than Game 7 in the 2019 Stanley Cup Finals have I cried after a hockey game. That was a completely different kind of crying. I have won exactly one tournament with the Blues Warriors and that was at our own Gateway Classic. Disclaimer: we may or may not have sandbagged a bit ourselves, but not by much and it was still the most amazing feeling. The throwing of gear, hugging, showering each other in champagne, skating with the Cup around the rink. I had taken that away from my teammates and the organization. Not sure how I couldn’t have cried like a baby.
Did anyone look at me back with disgust like it was my fault? Not a single person. All I got from them was “Great game Pops” and fist bumps. Well, they’re hiding it very well, was all I could think. What great actors these guys are. This whole arena knows I blew this game. Yes, I was giving myself an awful lot of bad credit. If it would have been any other player that had kicked the puck or was on the ice for both goals, which there were actually 5 other dudes on the ice with me at all times I must’ve forgotten about, I would never have let them take the blame. And neither did any of my teammates let me take the blame.
Somehow, I skated like a zombie through the handshake line and I spaced out as they handed out the cup or whatever. I skated through our Warrior teammates and their wives waiting at the door to tell us “good game” and I just felt sick. When we got to the locker room, I immediately apologized to the entire team for losing that game for them. I had ruined all the hard work they put in and their honor and respect they showed for me all weekend. To my continued dismay they replied with nothing but love. No one was blaming anyone for anything.
All I got back was hugs, some shared tears as they shared their own perceived mistakes and missed opportunities they had during the game. The entire team has to win or lose a game together. I forgot. They reminded me. That didn’t keep me from having a very lonely ride home or nightmares of red helmet guy’s stick blade, but it certainly helped end them sooner than later.
So, I need to wrap this up. Before I do I need to make some apologies and say some thank yous. Thank you to everyone from the other teams who came to support us Sunday morning, I greatly appreciate it. To your wives, please apologize for my behavior when walking out after the game. I know they got up early and some of them had to drive 45 minutes or so to come watch us and I couldn’t even look them in the eye walking out, much less say “thank you.” That was a childish and rude maneuver, and I feel awful about it. I really am sorry. Thanks for repeating our “Tarps of for the boys” cheering section. That meant the world to me.
A special shout out to Team Mom Lindsey Owens. YOU are the best. Thanks to Wild Bill for sewing on all our money grab USA Hockey patches and for making breakfast. Thanks to everyone who cooked, cleaned, brought me equipment I forgot looking at you “Dougie.” A huge shout out to Goz for carrying my smelly body bag to and from the tournament and arranging the house. If you could just learn to pass once in a while. I kid I kid. Thanks to Back Door for driving and Ski for sober driving.
To my defense. Thanks for not laughing in my face when I was pep talking, line making, and generally not telling you anything you did not already know. You guys were absolute blue line studs out there, game in and game out. You made me want to be a better defenseman every game, not to be better than anyone else but to make you proud. You guys are consummate pros and I would go to battle anywhere anytime with any one of you.
These hockey blogs are a broken record I know. I whine, I me me me for awhile, and can’t ever miss an opportunity to complain about getting demoted or bragging about losing weight. Well, you read it. I didn’t make you. However, I do all that for others who may feel the same way. I do it for myself to get it out. Writing is how I get things off my chest. I am an approval whore and I cannot help it. I also want to point out to anyone and everyone, that my favorite broken record is that hockey heals. This organization literally saves lives and makes them better. We need support and if I have to embarrass myself to get it so be it.
By heals I mean that no one understands a veteran like another veteran. They lure us in with stories of glory, honor, “kicking ass,” college money, brother/sisterhood, and a way of life. Then they ingloriously boot you out into a cold and harsh world you don’t understand, and definitely does not understand you. Especially if you come out broken, and after multiple forever wars none of us understand I defy anyone to come out of the military in modern times to not come out broken.
The problem is our government does not care. They get what they need out of you and then they spit you out. As far as I am concerned, they hope you kill yourself. (Sorry…whoa dark dude…I know) It is cheaper and more efficient for them. This is the only explanation I can find for how messed up the VA is and no matter who is in the White House or Congress no one can seem to fix it.
Do not get me wrong, the people who work there in my experience do the best they can with what they have. However, at the top they must not want it fixed because if they spent as much on the VA as they did say Israel or Ukraine, we’d each have our own top medical and psychological doctors assigned to us. 22 of us a day wouldn’t find this world hopeless and choose to leave it because a team of experts would be there to stop them. There wouldn’t be a single veteran living on the streets.
That’s not how it is though. So, I thank God that I found the St. Louis Blues Warriors. My prayer if you’ve read this far is this;
If you are a rostered player: Do you know the real point of being on a team? Are you checking on your teammates? Are they checking on you? Are you getting out of the org what you are putting in? If not change that. You shouldn’t just be showing up to play hockey and leaving. You are missing the point. Volunteer.
If you are on the waitlist: Keep waiting. It is worth it. Maybe some of the guys listed above have really good lives and don’t need the camaraderie part of this organization. Maybe they’ll leave and your spot will finally come open. If you’re an introvert, get out of your comfort zone and introduce yourself to us when you get the chance to. I am terrible at that for example, so you may have to do it on your own. Volunteer for things. It’s a win-win situation for you to get to know us and to be known. It’s a win for the org and a win for the people we are volunteering to help.
If you are alumni: Do not disappear. We still love you. You know we are mostly a bunch of dudes and alpha females. Sometimes we forget and/or suck at showing it, but we love you and we miss you.
If you are a veteran out in the wilderness: Sign up for the waitlist. That hole in your heart is from not being part of a unit anymore. What “hockey heals” and the Blues Warriors mean to me is just that. It is being part of a unit again. Going to battle together again. Being able to say the dirty, dark, and painful things you cannot say to your civilian friends and family in social situations or any other situation really. A group of people who understand your pain, your guilt, your loneliness. You haven’t done anything worse or better in the military than anyone else in this organization. Nothing will shock us or put you out of the fold. We can cry over it or laugh over it. If hockey isn’t your thing, please reach out to the VA or Wounded Warriors and find a group of veterans to belong to.
If you are a civilian friend/family, potential donor, or stranger: Wow. First off, Thank you for reading. I ask if you or anyone you know can help us with sponsorships or fundraising, please reach out. Hopefully I have illustrated well enough for you how life saving and life coping this organization can be. We have sent people to rehab. We have gotten each other jobs. We have cleaned up each other’s yards and houses after tornadoes, deaths of hoarders in the family, helped each other move, went to funerals for each other and weddings, and births. We have gotten each other physical and mental therapy. However, we are a 501c that pretty much funds ourselves and we picked a really expensive sport to play.
A lighter hearted example what this organization means/can do: I grew up a fat insecure kid, who never and I mean NEVER takes his shirt off in public unless it is to quickly jump in water to hide his body. Just another example of what this organization means to me and how much I love the men and women who play in it, I took my shirt off in a public ice arena to support a team I got cut from and proudly swung my shirt around to cheer them on. That must be worth some money. I went Tarps off for the Boys for a team that cut me. That’s how much they mean to me and how bad I wanted them to win.
Ghost Squad: Thank you and apologies for any hurt feelings, certainly not my intention. Everything I have written was done so with extreme respect and love for each one of you. Even you Sergei. I have to tell you brother I have a whole new respect for you. You still annoy the shit out of me, and I will ruthlessly make fun of you, but I am impressed how you couldn’t possibly care less. If I could learn to not dwell on what others think to even half the degree you do, I would be a much happier person. Anyway, rest of you, I am absolutely not quitting. Once my back heals enough, I will be back at it 110%.
To all my coaches, former teammates, and current beer league teammates: I love you and you are all still the wind beneath my wings. I feel now I was demoted for a reason. Primarily to save my life. (See this organization saves lives in many ways) I was way overweight, had high blood pressure and cholesterol, and was prediabetic. It was the demotions that caused me to change all that. I am a much healthier and happier person (despite all the whining you just read) because of it. I feel like I am on the team I was always meant to be on. The journey was the destination as they say. It still hurts but it needed to.
Hockey heals. Over and over again. Find your hockey and play it. Work your ass off to heal yourself and others. As far as I know we have God, our families, and each other and that’s it.
Jacked Up Dad 