Quitting Hockey

Health Comes First

1995. Evanston Tigers. Author photo.

It’s hockey season! Upon entering an ice rink when I was younger, the cold air made me feel alive with the delicious anticipation of practice or even better, a game. I was never good at sports as a child, but in 1995, when I was twenty-six, I saw an article in the Chicago Sun-Times about a women’s hockey team that had formed. The Evanston Tigers were the first women’s recreation team in Chicagoland. In 1995, not only did my teammates and I not know the rules of hockey, but most of us didn’t know how to skate.

I’d been diagnosed with bipolar a few months prior and didn’t do much in terms of recreation other than watching TV and playing video games, like Beavis and Butt-Head, on my Sega. My therapist thought I needed better hobbies. When I saw that article, something sparked in me. It was more than just curiosity. I wanted to try something new. I wanted to play hockey.

I signed up and learned how to skate, learned how to play. It was scary at first, but the camaraderie among the women was contagious. We ran drills and worked together even though there weren’t other teams for us to play against, but it was a lot of fun. Eventually, we played a scrimmage against a boy’s team of fourteen-year-olds. I’m pretty sure we lost, but I remember having a great time.

The next fall, I reluctantly quit the team to go back to college, which kept me busy. Besides, I couldn’t afford the fees because I had tuition to pay for. I missed hockey a lot. When I went on to graduate school three years later, the program I had chosen had a women’s club team, which was separate from the varsity team. The former accepted anybody, even if they couldn’t skate, while the latter recruited their players. It was the inaugural year for the varsity team and from what I’d heard, the former club players quit because they thought they would automatically play varsity. So we were definitely a ragtag team when I joined. Now, Ohio State Women’s Club Hockey plays in Division II, and I’m pretty sure they recruit now.

1999. Ohio State Buckeyes. Author photo.

If I’m being honest, the first of my three-year graduate program was dedicated to playing instead of studying. I was one of two grad students, and we also had a post-doc, on the team. Everyone else was undergrads. We had a busy schedule—we were out of town many weekends for games.

I scored our first goal during the season home opener, and my then-boyfriend (now-husband) entered the Ohio State Ice Rink just in time to witness it. I still sometimes wonder if he really saw it, but he assures me he did.

Our rink wasn’t as fancy as Michigan State’s Munn Ice Arena, but it served its purpose. However, when we played a tournament at Munn, they announced the starters’ names and positions (including mine!) over the loudspeaker like they do in the NHL. I felt like a pro! It was a near-empty arena, but still.

After autumn quarter, a woman who had volunteered to be the goaltender, even though she didn’t have experience, decided she didn’t want to do it anymore. So I took one for the team and switched from being a forward to being the goalie. I had no experience, either. I wasn’t great, but it felt natural. For some reason, despite having general anxiety disorder, a puck flying at me several miles an hour didn’t scare me. I welcomed it. I had one job—to stop the puck. I’d never been so focused on something in my life.

I didn’t have goalie equipment, but the club did. It was ancient. The stuffing was coming out of the leg pads, which were much too large, as were the glove and blocker. On a trip to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula where we played a series of games, we crossed over to Canada (because you could do that back then) and I bought myself a glove and blocker in our team colors that actually fit me. All I needed were my own leg pads, a chest protector, goalie pants, and a goalie helmet, the latter three of which were more protective than regular hockey gear. Those would come later.

During winter quarter, I became very depressed. It’s historically a bad time for me because I have seasonal affective disorder (SAD). I hadn’t been on medication for over a year at that point because I couldn’t afford insurance while I was in undergrad, and my doctor didn’t have enough samples to give me consistently. It wasn’t surprising that I had an episode. I started seeing a psychiatrist and therapist at the student health center at OSU and was put back on medication. The season was over by then anyway. We didn’t win a single game except during spring quarter when we formed an intramural team and beat a men’s team. That was sweet.

2007ish. Evanston Tigers. Author photo.

I couldn’t commit to the Buckeyes after that first year because I really had to study and write my thesis. I was also too depressed. In 2001, I moved back to Chicago where I taught college English part-time while looking for tenure-track positions. Then I had a breakdown in 2003 and entered a deep depression.

It was several years before I had the energy to start playing again. I re-joined the Tigers around 2007, and played for a couple of years until I hurt my knee during a game and needed an MRI. It wasn’t serious, but my knee hasn’t been the same since. I also had a bad ankle sprain, which didn’t help. Years of depression followed though not because I couldn’t play anymore; I just had episode after episode.

Playing was good for my mental health. I was active; I was social. Being part of a group with the same goal was really special to me because we worked hard together to reach that goal. But practices and games were at ten or ten-thirty p.m., and I need to be on a regular sleep schedule to function day-to-day. Late night practices and games, after which I’m wide awake, aren’t conducive to my sleep hygiene. My heart aches every time I see my bag of gear stored in a corner. Accepting this limitation was hard to do because in some ways it was good for me. I loved the game and being a part of a team so much. This was truly a lesson in health comes first.