I get battered and bruised

This morning I woke up with a series of bruises on my knees, thighs, and torso, having been battered thoroughly over the last week in various hockey games and training. Being hit by a small hard plastic object is a lesson of taking one for the team, bruises the fruits of putting my body on the line week in, week out. When you play any team sport, especially a sport like hockey, you soon realise that pain is part of the process, and how you deal with it says as much about your determination as it does about how much pain you are willing to take. I have always been a hockey keeper from the moment I picked up a hockey stick, and as such taking the pain has always been part of the pleasure of being involved. Not in a masochistic sense, more knowing that doing the thing I enjoy the most involves personal sacrifice to get the job done.

Injuries are common place in all sports, and just yesterday I saw a woman who had her face split open to the bone by a hockey ball, the scar will be something mighty impressive once healed. My bruises are pretty bad arse as they go from purple to that funny shade of yellow, reminders that my body does heal and I can keep on going. Playing hockey involves a degree of pain that makes many question the sanity of anyone who goes in goal, with many of my hockey acquaintances cracking jokes every time we meet up. That said, I have seen far more outfield bloody injuries than…