Litkicks Message Board Archive
Hand To Hand (pc)
I sit here. Waiting for my daughter to finish her gymnastics session. God I hate this place. This sterile outer room filled with parents who think their children will ultimately make the Olympics.
I’m a hockey father for Chrissakes. I’m supposed to be keeping cool, watching blades cut into the ice. Listening to the sounds of sticks slapping the ice and pucks crashing into boards or careening off helmets. Occasionally yelling encouragement. Nobody can yell encouragement here. Behind closed doors. The sounds from the session are muffled. To my knowledge, not one young athlete has been struck in the helmet by a wayward puck. At least, not according to the sounds.
So I sit here.
The guy across the way is also a hockey dad. He’s trying to imagine the sound of pucks as well, however he is sitting next to the horse couple. The horse couple has two daughters in this class. The girls, as well as being exceptional gymnasts, are also accomplished equestrians. Everyone who has sat next to the horse couple has been told this. They tag team against their fellow conversationists . Many people seem to listen for the sounds of pucks when sitting next to them. I pick up on the punishment partway through.
The stallion says, “....could say it is unbridled love. Ha. So we’re looking for a small horse. I mean, we were told the mother was 15 hands and the father 15 and a half hands...”
The mare interrupts him. “The mother was 15 and a half and the father 15.”
The stallion continues, “Anyway. One was 15 hands, the other 15 and a half. So we’re thinking ‘How big can this horse turn out to be?’.”
The hockey dad looks me straight in the eye. I’ve seen this look. “Help me.” the look says.
The stallion says, “But the mother was 15 and a half hands and the father 16 and a half hands...”
The mare interrupts, “The mother was 16 and the father 15 and a half .”
The stallion continues, “Anyway. One was 16 hands and the other 15 and a half. So we’re thinking ‘This horse may be BIG!’.”
The hockey dad has but two hands. They are both jammed in his pockets. His chin now rests on his chest. His hair hangs down over his eyes in pained strings. He has been defeated.
A stroke of good luck occurs when his daughter sprains her ankle badly. Torn ligaments, maybe. He’s hearing pucks now. He escapes his plight and hurries to his daughter’s side. I could swear he is smiling a bit as he takes her out the door on his way to the hospital.
The horse couple moves across to sit next to me.
“Looks like we might be spending more to feed our new horse than we thought.” the stallion says.
I do not want to wait for my daughter to sprain her ankle.
“I hear that porn actors are not allowed to go swimming before their performances.”, I reply.
I hear the joyful sound of pucks hitting the back of the net.