Parents--parents just don't understand
Girlfriend/wife/so-called "Friends"--Your main resistance in chasing a street hockey dream will come from one of these sources. They will claim to know whats best for you, but obviously they don't have a clue. If your girlfriend really knew what was best for you, she'd quit bitching at you to "give it up" and strap on some goalie pads so you can work on your shootout dekes. Then you finally convice her to get in goal and she sucks. WTF? Your so-called "Friends" may act like you're wasting your time, but deep down they would sell their souls to have a dream like yours. They're boring and have boring jobs and boring lives and probably think 'throwing sauce' has something to do with tabasco. To paraphrase local street hockey legend James "Perry" "Golden Boy" Webler: I don't have friends, I have linemates and opponents.
Weak Netting--Did the Research and Development team at Mylec forget to test the netting on regulation street hockey goals? How is it possible that the ball either goes through the netting, or knocks down the goal altogether? True, and real gamer knows that you have to tape up the whole net to really make it work, but C'mon Myelec, that's just lazy. And it's fucking up my dream.**also, a game is a game, and who am I to complain, but you're not really living the dream unless the net has a roof. how else am I going to knock the water bottle off on a backhand in triple overtime?
Dinnertime--Dinnertime is a killer! It's been known to short circuit many a seven game series into a game 2 and a half next goal wins situation, and that's not 'on'.
Chris Tortorella--Nothing can derail a potential street hockey dream like this Portuguese Water Rat. Defense, Offense, he's got it covered. Stick him in goal and he's Marty Brodeur. The first Larchmont kid to figure out how to slide with those plastic goalie pads, he also has an aggressive poke check and a mean two pad stack. Your only option is to get him on your team or sell him your porn collection and hope he doesn't show up for the game. **oddly enough, Turtle is not a good street hockey goalie.
This douchbag across from me on the plane while I'm writing this list--I'm sure this asshole doesn't play street hockey, but he's the type of cynical dream-fascist that can squash any hopes by his sheer negativity. First of all, he looks just like Glen Gulia from Wedding Singer, except instead of the Miami Vice gear he's rocking the typical "Midwest-corporate-sales-guy-on-vacation" uniform (Ray Bans on top of head, button-down short sleever with some "Whacky" print on it, jean shorts, white socks, white Reeboks). Secondly, he won't stop complaining about everything. It's a red-eye dude, Go to sleep or got sit in the bathroom and stew, but shut the fuck up already! He was in front of me at the metal detector station and embarrassed the shit out of his wife when she accidentally got caught with a bottle of water in her carry-on. Way to show some backbone asshole--she's your wife. Big deal, we had to waste all of 8 seconds while they confiscated the bottle and asked her if she had anymore. You didn't have to apologize profusely and roll your eyes and call her a moron like you're some babydick pussy. This isn't the rodeo, Luke Perry. 8 seconds ain't that big a deal.
A Stickball Game--Fuck, are you serious? Stickball is cool and all, but there are only 3 of you and you're taking up the entire big playground. I have a whole armada of friends ranging in age of all 3 Baiocco brothers and we're ready to rock.
Linechanges--WTF? How are you suppossed to break the Murray Ave small playground summer scoring record when you're on the sidelines? Rules are if you wanna play, bring someone to keep the teams even. I'd rather play (and have) 15 on 15 then do linechanges. Also, uniforms are gay and way too official for street hockey. Jerseys are fine. That is why it is perfectly acceptable for 3 guys on the same team to be wearing a Boston College jersey, an old school North Stars jersey, and a Santa Cruz skateboards t-shirt and all know what's up. I wore a flannel shirt for six years! People haven't seen that kind of commitment to plaid since Neil Young toured Jones Beach with Crazy Horse.
Diarrhea--Nothing, and I mean nothing is more distracting than diarrhea. It has been known to kill more than a street hockey dream, but a date, a job interview, an SAT test, and trip to the mall. I don't really mind the actual diarrhea (makes the toilet paper look like a mix between a Jackson Pollock painting and a Operation Dessert Storm Camo-print) but its the fact that you could conceivably shit your pants at any moment that makes one wary of going all out on a breakaway. Let me put it this way, a guy is 95% less likey to risk going deke on a breakaway if he has any inkling of diarrhea and goalies know this. If a Goalie senses your mud-spit he's thinking shot all the way.