Sometimes, I’m the best goalie on the ice.  Other times, I’m the worst goalie on the ice.  Then there are the times when I’m the only goalie on the ice.  Such was the case in New Mexico.  I’m just happy I found somewhere to play, period.

It’s been quite a logistical challenge to find places to play hockey during this trip.  Not all cities have indoor arenas, not all indoor arenas have ice in the summer, and not all indoor arenas that have summer ice have schedules that coincide with my schedule.   New Mexico was no exception.

Up until a few days before my arrival in New Mexico, it appeared that I might have nowhere to play.  There were only two arenas in the Albuquerque area, and neither of them appeared to have hockey scheduled for the times I would be around.  The most promising line item on one of the arena’s web-based schedules was an hour for “Hockey Clinic.”  I figured, “Hmm, maybe I can get in on that.”

I called the arena, Blades Multiplex in Rio Rancho, NM, and spoke with a couple of people about the hockey clinic.  At first, they didn’t know what I was talking about, but after a little while we determined that the internal schedule at the rink differed from the one posted on the web site.  There was no hockey clinic; instead, that block of ice time was allocated to a stick-and-puck.  (A stick-and-puck is an open-ice unstructured practice session, not a game.)  Perfect!

If you’ve been following my journey for a while, you might have noticed a strange inconsistency: hockey is at the core of the trek, but I’ve posted exactly zero photos of me actually playing hockey.  The closest I’ve come to posting a legitimate hockey photo was the Eh Team group snapshot when I subbed in Saskatoon.

I’m happy to report that this major deficiency has been improved thanks to Tyler’s dad Greg, who kindly offered to photograph my New Mexico hockey experience.

Making a save, in spite of some technical deficiencies

Larry takes a shot on me

Steve takes a shot on me

Josh takes a shot on me

Unfortunately, there wasn’t all that much to shoot.  Whether due to the session start time (during rush hour), the misleading line item on the web schedule (“hockey clinic” instead of “stick-and-puck”), or the general lack of participation in hockey in the desert southwest, turnout was low at the rink.  I was the only goalie.  There were two skaters for a while, Josh and Steve, and a third, Larry, showed up part-way through the session.

Even with the low headcount, I had a good time.  Better yet, the photos revealed a number of areas in which I could improve my technique.  They also showed some old bad habits that had started to reemerge, so now I’m aware that I have to be more careful lest I get sloppy.  A good experience all around.

It takes quite a bit of effort to be seen as something new in Las Vegas.  Sunday night, I found a way to draw attention from even the most jaded.

People smiled, cameras clicked, and high-fives abounded as I walked around Freemont Street in downtown Las Vegas.  Even the true buskers were giving me dap.

In the 100-degree heat, far from any ice, there I was: a hockey goalie in full gear on the street.

On Fremont Street in Las Vegas, in the summer, in full ice hockey goalie gear. The jersey is from my beer league team last season, the Wingmen.

And why not?  There were, after all, street performers of all sorts on the street already. Robots, statues, SpongeBob, Elvis, a newlywed couple complete with fake solid champagne, at least two Michael Jacksons, and several Spider-Mans were there, just to name a few.  No hockey goalies, though, at least not until I showed up.

You might recall that I tweeted about the concept of a hockey goalie street performer back when I arrived in Vegas.  I thought it would be hilarious to follow through, but I needed a good excuse.  Enter my friend Blake.

Me: “Hey Blake, I have a favor to ask.  I need you to bet me that I won’t walk around Las Vegas in my goalie gear. Stakes: a beer.”

Blake: “Haha! Ok, I bet you a six-pack of your choice that you won’t walk around Las Vegas in your goalie gear.”

Perfect.

After playing a two-hour pickup game earlier in the day at the Las Vegas Ice Center, I returned to my downtown hotel to prepare. It was around sunset, but the temperature was still over 100 degrees, so I decided to make a few changes to reduce my chances of heat exhaustion.  I went without two of the warmer pieces of gear:  no knee pads and no neck guard.  I didn’t expect to make any saves on the street, but I still wanted to be reasonably protected in case a joker lobbed a hard object in my direction, so all of the other pads were there.

Skates were considered briefly, but hiking boots won.  Have you ever tried walking a significant distance in skates? Painful.

Getting dressed took only a few minutes.  Working up the courage to go out in public like that took a bit longer.  I stood at my hotel room door for a while, debating whether to follow through.

It wasn’t like it was illegal to walk around as a goalie. It wasn’t even that novel: videos on YouTube here, here, here, here, and here all show people who have done it before.  Heck, it’s been done as a beer promotion.

Would my friends and family think me crazy?  I mean, they already think that goalies are a bit crazy, but would this raise new eyebrows?

Finally, I took a deep breath, charged towards the door, opened it, and hustled out before I could change my mind.  Once I was in the hallway, I felt committed, and everything became easy.

Fremont Street and its “Fremont Street Experience” is the most popular location for tourism and gambling in downtown Las Vegas. (For those unfamiliar, the Strip is a few miles south of downtown and not technically in Las Vegas.)  I set course for the heart of it.

In the few blocks I walked from my hotel to Fremont Street, I got numerous thumbs-up, honks from car horns, and fist bumps.  People waved, and I waved back with my catcher.  It felt like I was portraying a mascot.  I was obligated to be a good ambassador for goalies everywhere.

Two guys, Spencer and Jake, struck up a conversation with me.  They were hockey fans, and they thought that what I was doing was great.  They liked the idea of the trip, too.  I was out there for fun, not for making money, but Spencer insisted on giving me $20, thus tripling my cumulative income from the trip. Thanks Spencer!

I continued my walk down Fremont street.  Everywhere I went, cameras pointed, flashes flashed, mouths smiled, and people pointed.  A few people chatted with me about Minnesota, hockey, and hockey in Minnesota.

As I mentioned earlier, several of the true buskers that I passed talked me up and thought my idea was great.  Most of them wouldn’t believe that I really wasn’t doing it to earn money.  Spider-Man told me that I was “going to do REALLY well with [my “costume”] tonight.”

Speaking of money, as I was passing Binion’s, I noticed that one of the security guards was looking my way.  I decided to take advantage of the opportunity, and he agreed to let me go in the casino to have my photo taken with one of their draws, $1,000,000 cash.  I think I might be the only goalie to ever be photographed next to that much cash.

Me in my goalie gear at Binion's $1,000,000 cash pile

Several people posed for photos with me, which I found very amusing.  I was sweating profusely, and besides, my gear was still wet from the day’s earlier hockey game.  I couldn’t have smelled very good.

I have to imagine that at least a few of those photos will pop up on the interwebs eventually.  Finding them will be the challenge.  I’d love to hear about any that are out there.

During the Fremont Street Experience light show. Hard to tell, but the people in the background are smiling, looking my way, and holding cameras.

After about an hour and a half, I decided to call it a night.  I was getting really hot, and besides, I had accomplished my goal: I’d shown Vegas something new.  And won my (admittedly contrived) bet.

Will Las Vegas ever get another goalie on the streets?  I’m not sure, but I have some advice for any would-be imitators: do it when it’s cooler out.

11:15 a.m. — Finally leave my hotel in Indio, CA.  Sunny. Temperature: 98 degrees.

12:00 p.m. — Driving around Joshua Tree National Park.  Beautiful. Sunny.

2:30 p.m. — Reach Amboy, CA on the way to Las Vegas, NV. Very hot. Brilliantly blue sky. Comfortable 72 degrees in Sam, but 112 degrees outside.

3:00 p.m. — Notice dark clouds on the horizon over the Mojave Desert. Lots of lightning in the distance.

3:30 p.m. — In torrential downpour in the middle of the Mojave National Preserve. Water on road. Lightning all around me. Very strong winds. 68 degrees.

4:00 p.m. — Reach Baker, CA, having seen exactly zero other cars on the road since leaving Kelso, CA 34 miles earlier. 98 degrees.

5:30 p.m. — Las Vegas!

(Start with Timbers, part 1 if you missed it)

The Timbers?

Yes, the Timbers.  The mighty, mighty Timbers.  That’s who they are. (or so I was told)

The Timbers are the Major League Soccer team in Portland.  In most parts of the country, the idea of professional soccer would prompt nothing but yawns, but in Portland, the Timbers are a big deal.

I decided I should go to a match.  It would be my first MLS game.

A short trip on the light rail later, and I was at Jeld-Wen Field.  Unfortunately, that was when I discovered that the Timbers were one of the hottest tickets in town.  The game against Toronto FC was sold out, and scalpers were asking almost double face value for the highly desirable general admission tickets.

You see, at most sporting events, general admission tickets would be the bottom of the barrel, nosebleeds waaaaaay from the action.  Not so in this case.  At Timbers home matches, the general admission section is the place to be.

I eventually bought a ticket from a fellow fan and staked out my seat in the general admission area — the “Timbers Army.”   What fun!

The Timbers Army during a chant

There were chants, songs, and flag waving from over an hour before the start to after the end.  Seats went unused, but the section was packed: everybody stood the entire time. I was so caught up in the excitement and energy that I hardly even noticed that there was a football match going on.

Kenny Cooper #33 of the Portland Timbers moves the ball upfield under pressure from two Toronto FC players during the second half of the match

The Timbers were up 2-0 for a while, but they had a late collapse, and the match ended tied, 2-2.

That was an unfortunate way to end the evening, but I had a great time anyway. I’ll be sure to try to catch another Timbers game if I’m back in Portland.

Most of the time, extended perusal of a restaurant menu is time wasted.  You’re probably at a chain restaurant, and whatever you order will probably be neither horrible nor exceptional.  You won’t even remember what you ate after a couple of days.  Just pick something and get on with it.

That logic didn’t apply while I was at Extraordinary Desserts in San Diego with my friend Stacy.  You see, the desserts at Extraordinary Desserts were, well, extraordinary.  There was a good chance that whatever I chose would be the best execution on a particular dessert theme that I would taste in my life.  Lots of pressure.  I didn’t want to squander the chance.

Fortunately, my decision-analysis studies kicked in, and I realized that I was facing a selection of one alternative from many, among which I was indifferent.  The upshot was that I could safely pick any of the desserts: the data available at the time suggested that I’d enjoy each of them equally.

I went with the mixed-berry cobbler, which was served warm.  It was excellent.

Warm berry cobbler with berry sorbet and a berry sauce(?) at Extraordinary Desserts in San Diego