Top Twelve: Pushing Away from the Table

All but done with donut(s)

I posted one entry in 2015, a clear sign that other endeavours have wooed me away from writing about hockey (and donuts).  

Oh, I have many other stories I’d like to tell here, but it’s time to say an official “see you later” with one more Top Twelve collection—this one focused on the activities, people and places that, in the last year or so, have provided relief, gratitude and even joyfulness as way to combat my often irrational fear and anxiety.

Reading

Ron Maclean’s Hockey Towns: Untold Stories from the Heart of Canada; George Henderson’s Krazy George Still Krazy After All These Cheers; and Clint Malarchuk’s A Matter of Inches, the latter of which I finished reading in Montreal.

Montreal, QC

I didn’t skate on Puckbite’s backyard rink. Way too cold. But, the Habs-loving, late-blooming hockey player and yours truly enjoyed lunch and a long philosophical discussion about hockey and the arts.

My wife and I visited several familiar places and a new donut establishment, in La Petite-Italie. Our Russian cabbie, a friendly historian who knows his way around town, delivered us to Le Trou de Beigne, where we bought these donuts, some of which we shared with the doorman at our hotel, some of which we ate, and a lot of which we had to sacrifice for art’s sake.

North Carolina

Getting Silly with "Stormy"

Another wonderful friend, much like Puckbite, lives in Charlotte. Hockey isn’t such a big deal there, so we drove north.

In Raleigh, college football outranks professional hockey, but the PNC Arena is a fantastic venue to watch a Hurricanes game. Even though the Dallas Stars beat the home team, we still enjoyed affordable seats near the player’s bench, the “Two in the Box” video segment and pulled pork.

In Durham, the hot spot is Monuts Donuts. Unique donut and coffee options contribute to the flair of this tavern that, of course, serves Sierra Nevada Tropical IPA and Irish Coffee.

Ireland

The Nutella-covered cronut at Krust Bakery was the best tasting donut in Dublin. The Boston Cream at The Natural Bakery in Donnybrook made me feel at home.

Bostonians beware: I saw lots of people sporting NY Yankees caps and not a single Dubliner wearing Red Sox merchandise.

I didn’t see a Celtics, Bruins or Sox fan in Galway either, but that’s not something I worried about while savoring the porridge at the House Hotel—in the heart of the Latin Quarter. ¡Qué bueno!

Dave Gosher and Bob Beers

Gosher calls such a great Bruins game on the radio that sometimes my wife and I turn off the TV’s sound. Three weeks ago on the Sports Hub 98.5 hockey show, Beers said it’s unrealistic to expect the Bruins to be perfect every game. Every NHL team goes through ups and downs. This kind of broadcasting is refreshing and supports my efforts to tap into gratitude, dare I say love.

Patrice Bergeron and Brad Marchand

I love these guys. How blessed are we here in Boston to have this duo on the same line and same penalty killing unit? Definitely an odd pairing, but what’s not to love as they demonstrate their mutual affection in this Valentine’s Day video? The only thing missing is a love song.

Nashville, TN

Some Nashville hockey fans may be tired of Tim McGraw’s “I like it, I love it” after every goal the Predators score, but my wife and I heard it five times as the hometown team defeated the St. Louis Blues. I couldn’t get enough of it.

My afternoon at the Country Music Hall of Fame rivaled the hockey game for entertainment value. The Keith Urban exhibit, which includes an autographed Quebec Nordiques T-shirt, and chatting with a visitor from Toronto in front of the cowboy music displays, made me happy.

My wife took a poolside photograph of  a “100 Layer Donut” from Five Daughters Bakery as I listened to a Garth Brooks tune streaming from our hotel’s speakers.

West Point, NY

Getting to re-connect with a relative who plays for the Black Knights was extra special.

Even if you’re not a hockey fan, West Point is a beautiful place to visit. I didn’t see a donut dispenser on campus, but you’ll find outstanding soda bread and cider donuts a few miles up the road, at Jones Farm.

Writing

Most every Friday morning at the Boston Bean House, I’m working on a historical novel. If you love hockey or Canadian-American history, this book may be for you. Someday. (By the way, my hockey and donut memoir is still on the to-complete list, but it needs a wee more bit editing and time to mature.)

The AMHL

“You still got it,” Donut Boy told me while I, in my street clothes, shot the puck into the net. He was skating after the game, as he always does, and I wasn’t— but that didn’t matter. His compliment lifted my spirits.

I’ve had so much fun playing hockey with Donut Boy and all the other men and women that make the AMHL so special. As I re-read some of the stories I’ve written (and had forgotten about), I’m so glad to have been part of the league, as a player and writer, and for friends like Donut Boy.

Exercise

I haven’t skated since last fall but planks and long walks, in the cities we’ve visited and here at home in Maynard, have become my friends.

Less Pain

My groin and hip pain has decreased in frequency, intensity and duration. I’m not cured of it and there are flare-ups. But, thanks to my wife, exercise, pelvic floor therapy, my chiropractor, playing the guitar, prayer, music, meditation, my psychologist and countless others who care about me, I remain gratefully yours.

Thank you—gracias, merci, obrigado, shokran, spaciba, Go raibh maith agaibh—to all the readers over the world and to those who also shared their hockey (and/or donut) stories. Thanks for such an enlightening and magical ten-year gig.

See you on LinkedIn, email, the golf course, the rink…maybe someday here on this site again, or wherever our paths may cross again.

Update:
21 March 2017

You can now read my new blog, stories I tell about learning Spanish--in particular about pronunciation.

Fathers, Sons and Dunkin' Donuts

Coupons from my father's DDU training manual 

In 1974, my dad spent six weeks at Dunkin’ Donuts University (DDU) in Braintree, MA. While he learned about frying fritters and operating a franchise, my mom and we four boys went about our business in Colorado Springs, Colorado. (Mom told a lumber yard employee that her husband, Jim, had died and asked the stranger if he could help her Cub Scouts with a Pinewood Derby project.)

I was a fifth-grader at Longfellow Elementary, yet I don’t recall learning anything about Henry Wadsworth or reciting “Paul Revere’s Ride.”

After my dad returned from Boston and then moved us to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma—where he opened a Dunkin’ Donuts on Route 66—my ex-classmates wrote to me. I still have the missives written on paper reserved for grade-schoolers learning to improve their penmanship, if not their spelling and punctuation. Greg, for example, wrote, “You are lucky because your dad works in a dunkin donuts (sic) shop, when ever (sic) you want a donut you got one. Boy, you are going to live in paradise!”

Dad made cutting donuts look easy to a ten-year old. On rare occasions, he would place the chrome ringlet-maker in my right hand. I anticipated chopping the dough into perfect circles, just like my father had learned at DDU. I swung my right arm and wrist downward at the doughy blob and anticipated the impact, that flick of the wrist Dad had executed to free the soon-to-be donut from its mother ship.

Thwap. A doughy glob would get stuck in the donut-cutter. (I had latent talent that wouldn’t manifest itself for another decade or so, but that’s another story). Dad then blended the mutant’s remains into the big batch and repeated the process he had learned in Boston.

I could also watch my father through the gigantic rectangular window separating the customers from the master donut maker. He’d roll dough flat, sprinkle cinnamon on top, reshape the mass into a roll—and then with a whack, whack, whack—he’d chop off chunks that would become coffee rolls.

My dad wore splattered batter instead of blush. Cakeup, not makeup. He shouldered the burden: the long, long hours required to feed customers and to earn a living for a growing family.

Less than two years later, we moved back to Colorado—to Fort Collins, where my dad would own an automotive business for more than three dozen years and I would learn that I preferred donut grease to muffler grime.

In 2013, less than a year before Oklahoma City’s Dunkin’ Donut franchisee Misha Goli would announce the expansion of the brand there, he and I chatted about our dads and donuts. His father, Massoud, had also attended DDU and baked... and baked. Misha, a ten-year old in 1992, wanted no part of that. He was all about customer service.

He said, “I used to get the milk crates—I couldn’t reach the cash register because I was too short. So I would always get the milk crate and put that under the cash register, jump up and grab the register with one arm and use the other hand to try to push the buttons and ring the customers up as they were coming in.”

He also remembers that giant rectangular window through which customers could watch bakers in action. “The windows aren’t there anymore,” Misha said. He was quick to add that the family and community spirit is still alive, however.

His father has retired and still lives in Oklahoma. My dad passed away last October, in Fort Collins—a week before Dunkin’ Donuts opened a store there and while I was home here in Boston.

My wife and I flew back to Colorado, and in my dad’s basement she found his Dunkin’ Donuts training manual with that old school logo, letters rounded into a fuchsia-colored coffee cup.

Talk about your full circle.

Dishing Hockey and Donuts with Award-Winning Author Roland Merullo

Award-winning author Roland Merullo loves hockey (and donuts) as much as I do. He wrote something to that effect to me and then signed his name in the copy of Lunch with Buddha I had purchased.

I haven’t read all of his books, such as the one with a donut on the cover, but I will buy them because I anticipate more hockey, more donut references. But it’s more than that. The magic of Merullo is his thought-provoking style of storytelling. He makes me question my own behavior and beliefs but not in a Thou-shalt, heavy-handed fashion. His fiction is unique yet real, affirming and enlightening, funny, spell-binding.

Characters in his books seem to have a thing for hockey and those halo-like treats that serve as one of this site’s hallmarks, so I asked Merullo about this connection. We traded email, and I now present these six questions and answers.  

Jim Dwyer: I know you shy away from donuts now—but what donut do you equate with paradise?

Roland Merullo: Honey dipped or chocolate honey dipped, but my tastes are eclectic.

JD: When you were twenty-four, you broke your back. So hockey, as you wrote in a 2012 Facebook posting, is "off the table." But you must have played as a kid in Revere or at Phillips Exeter. What are one or two of your fondest recollections of those days?

RM: I skated at the MDC rink in Revere, and play street hockey in front of my house, but I never was on the ice with a stick until 11th grade at Exeter. I made the club all-star team, and have many great memories from those days. I also played a little club hockey at B.U. and Brown, and in a men’s league on an outdoor rink the one year we lived on Martha’s Vineyard (my wife taught at the high school). That was AFTER the broken back. Many great memories but my last goal was a tip-in on a shot from the left point. I just laid out my stick and it went into the upper right-hand corner. A good shot to retire on.

JD: One more real-life question before we move on to your books: Who was and perhaps still is your favorite hockey player?

RM: Eddie Shack, hands down. I liked his nuttiness.

(JD’s note: Eddie once owned a few donut shacks, so to speak).

JD: In Breakfast with Buddha, Otto Ringling has a hockey scar. How would Otto describe the incident that gave him that mark on his neck?

RM: He was on the wrong end of a high stick.

JD: Otto's "breakfast" companion, Volya Rinpoche, loves miniature golf, but what does he think of hockey?

RM: Well, he’s from Siberia, so we have to assume he would enjoy it. He fell asleep at a baseball game, however. I saw one game in Russia, actually the USSR, in 1977, when they still called themselves amateurs. No fighting, a little checking, but the best passing I have ever seen.

JD: If Rinpoche were to meet Jesus in an American Savior sequel, where would they meet for donuts?

RM: The donut shop where Jake meets Janet in Allston in my novel, A Little Love Story. It’s made up, based loosely on a shop in Hadley, MA, on Route 9, with a very talkative Greek owner.

Check out a Merullo novel or non-fiction book from your local library. Buy one from a real or virtual shelf and then have him sign it at one if his events. 

2013 Top Twelve

1. Patrice Bergeron’s game-winner for the Bruins against the Maple Leafs—hear the Dave Goucher's call or from the announcers in Finland.

2. Writing to Pope Francis, asking for his opinion about Holy Donuts in Portland, ME. (Papa Francisco: Espero su respuesta.)

3. Celebrating twenty years of marriage to the AMHL Photographer.

4. Seeing my little brother, Dennis (the one with the most hockey talent in our family and an Avalanche/Michael Jackson fan) and his youth hockey pals and other punks all grown up.

5. Blue Star Donuts in Portland, OR.

6. Publishing a piece at Puck Daddy.

7. St. Andrews, NB: Our annual visit to the safe house where the protagonist in my novel plays hockey and mentioning the sea-side town in a song I wrote.

8. Learning how to play “I Wanna Drive the Zamboni” (Gear Daddies) on the guitar (I know the basics, anyway) as well as playing tunes by Canadians Michael Bublé and Bryan Adams.

9. The Bear and the Gang Christmas Spectacular: Everything from Dave Goucher’s voice to Patrice Bergeron’s Christmas present, to Dougie Hamilton’s red nose to Rene Rancourt’s toboggan ride with the Bear. Fa la la laugh out loud.

10. Tuukka Rask—two Us, two Ks… and Zdeno Chara—two goals—shut out the Flames.  This was a special game not just because Jerome Iginla’s ex-team was at the TD Garden but also because it was 80’s night: Terry O’Reilly dropped the honorary puck, and the in-game music included an a-ha moment and New Kids on the Block.

11. J.-P. Plouffe’s eccentric world where hockey, society, and art all get along (mostly).

12. Reconnecting with my AMHL friends after the Thursday Fall 2013Championship Game. 

Charles Bradley: Pucks, Pets and CAN-AM Camaraderie, Part II

Continued from Part I

Charles Bradley, black and blue thumbnail and all, is back in business and back in the game. At the Dunkin’ Donuts in West Concord, he’s his same old amiable self as he sits at the table next to my wife and me. Caring to the core about pets and humans like me, Charles listens to my wife describe my ongoing injury saga and makes a suggestion or two from his own experience as a hockey player and animal doctor. (You’ve probably seen the bumper sticker, “Be kind to animals. Hug a hockey player.” Right?)

Stop by Domino Veterinary Hospital (DVH), Charlie says; I’ll give you a brochure for the doctor that fixed my wrist.

He stands up to get in line for his coffee as my wife and I prepare to leave.

We run an errand and then meet Charlie at DVH in West Concord.

Paint greets our nostrils as a contractor applies color to the door leading to the reception area. We shuffle to the right and see Dr. Bradley.

Charlie rises from his chair in a side office and then leads us on an impromptu tour of the new facility. We walk from room to room, Charlie showing us machines for examining and treating dogs and cats.

If I were a patient or pet owner, I’d like the soothing, soft colors—including sage and beige—of the treatment and special procedure rooms and pharmacy that serve customers in Concord, Sudbury, Maynard and beyond. The place is bright and cheery. Just like Charlie.

He’s not about to apply for sainthood and is the first to admit the adversity he has endured in the aforesaid changing veterinary market. He left the profession, and the AMHL, a few years ago to dabble in the home renovation business, but that endeavor proved unsuccessful.

We move on, chatting about Charlie's drives through Vermont to Canada and listening to CBC Radio. Charlie asks if my wife and I are familiar with Stuart McLean. 

Of course. 

We agree that the Canadian storyteller-comic (born and raised in Montreal West, a few blocks away from Charlie’s Loyola High School) and McLean's The Vinyl Cafe program are akin to Garrison Keiller’s A Prairie Home Companion. (Dave and Morley, often featured on McLean's hour-long variety show, own a dog, Arthur.)

We reach the front lobby and discuss the nuances of Canadian parlance.

“He says ‘eh’ a lot less than he used to,” Dr. Bradley's assistant, sitting behind the new desk in these new veterinary digs, says.

But it’s not all about the “eh;” it’s also about the A, as in Yahoo!, Mazda and pasta. YEAH-who, MAZZ-duh, PASS-tuh, right?

“Right,” Charlie says, smiling about a Canadian’s propensity to end a sentence with an affirmative interrogative.

We change topics from linguistics to cross-border cooperation to Can-Am adventures and camaraderie, and ultimately circle back to hockey.

Are you over the devastation, my wife wonders, of the Canadiens losing in the first round? She’s not aware that Charlie told me ten years ago that he’s a Bruins fan.

“I made the conversion,” he says.

In an amped-up professional hockey environment where the lines between rivalry and rage often blur and can block us from seeing the beauty of our game, Charlie Bradley sticks out like a sore thumbnail.

“You call him Charlie?” his assistant asks.

“They’ve seen each other in garter belts,” my wife says.

Charlie explains that we hockey players assign pet names (my pun, not his) to each other, adding an –ie or –y to our first names. “Charlie, Jimmy…,” he says.

I can call him Charlie. And if I had a sick dog or cat, I’d call Dr. Bradley.

Charles Bradley: Pucks, Pets and CAN-AM Camaraderie, Part I

May 11, 2013

Saturday morning

West Concord, MA

The AMHL Photographer and I sit at our usual table at Dunkin’ Donuts, discussing an upcoming doctor appointment to address my Humpty Dumpty Groin.

She notices a familiar face entering the place, and I look left to watch Charles Bradley, an AMHLer, a veterinarian and one fine Canadian, approach. Wearing a solid bold blue short-sleeved shirt and smiling, he extends his right hand to meet mine.

Half of his left thumbnail is black and blue. Looks like a hockey injury to me. Charlie raises his hands, like a begging beagle, to reenact his awkward attempt to block a shot during a 3–1 loss on Tuesday morning. He laughs at himself.

Despite his Avalanche losing to the Leafs and his bruised lunula, Charlie seems happy, like the same fellow I got to know ten years ago, when he shared his hockey (and donut) story with me.

I asked him on that Tuesday morning in March, 2003, “Given your preference, Tim Hortons or Dunkin’ Donuts?”

Just then someone opened the fire escape door, not because of an emergency but because the door was closer to his car. This triggered a fire alarm bell.

“Tim Hortons,” Charlie said.

Tim Hortons, I say, OK.

“Definitely.”

I had a feeling, but there was a pause

“Because of the bell,” he says.

I switch from donuts to hockey and learn that Charlie was born and raised in Montreal (pronounced MUN–tree–all) and started playing hockey when he was four or five years old. 

“Our grade school was in Loyola Park, and we had four hockey rinks and one skating rink right behind us. The City maintained it.” Charlie said. “And in those days (1960s), we didn’t have really artificial ice, except for the (Verdun Auditorium) and Montreal Forum. Well, we played hockey every day; we played because the rinks were maintained by the City.”

These were outdoor rinks?

Charlie said, “Outdoor ice, yeah. And the guys would come out, the municipal workers would come out and flood every night. They were illuminated, and we could play all the time unless there was a thaw. It was great. That’s where we learned our skills.”

As we chat after his Tuesday morning game, comedian and AMHL mainstay Chris Howell interrupts us. “I just want to say that Charles Bradley is probably the biggest liar I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks a lot, Donut Boy,” Charlie replied, enjoying the friendly exchange.

After Donut Boy exited, I asked Bradley if he had aspirations of playing junior hockey.

Loyola High School, he said. "Pretty high-level hockey.”

The Jesuit-run school, created for English-speaking Catholics in the Côte-Des-Neiges—Notre-Dame-De-Grâce neighborhood of Montreal, resides on Rue Sherbrooke and is contained by Concordia University, a few blocks west of Parc Loyola.

Charlie wore the school’s maroon and white sweater.

“We did tournaments, and we were usually the champions or near the top in the Montreal league,” he said as the Zamboni did its thing around the Valley Sports rink. “And we had our rink, so that helped a lot. We skated every day. We skated probably about seven to ten hours a week. It was good for skills as well.”

After high school, though, hockey took a back seat to professional studies. He graduated from The University of Guelph Ontario Veterinary College and then worked at dozens of practices in the next almost twenty years, travelling from Ontario to New Hampshire and Massachusetts.

He found his way back to hockey, though. In 2000 or 2001, Charlie says that after learning of the AMHL at a Valley Sports Stick Time session on a Friday afternoon, he registered to play.

“I was really surprised at the level of hockey,” he said. “This is a nice league because, the difference to me, other than the time, is that everyone plays hockey for the fun of it. They don’t take it too seriously. That was a real put-off for me when guys were getting really really serious, competitive, and angry at each other, smashing each other and holding grudges. We don’t see that in this league. And the idea of rotating the teams through is really good. Having the time after for the CAM-uh-rah-duh-rie and fellowship, that makes it really good.”

But financial struggles—tough to earn find stability in a veterinary market where clinic ownership can change hands— took him away from his passions: taking care of cats and dogs and playing hockey. He dabbled in local home renovation, but that endeavor never took off. He and his family decided to move to Ontario in 2009.

Upon learning of the move across the 49^th Parallel, AMHLers expressed their respect for Charlie by email.

“On behalf of all the AMHL officials, we would like to extend our best wishes to Charlie and his family as they go back to the mother country. Bradley was a great competitor and statesman from Canada and will be missed,” wrote Referee Peter Bagley.

Terry Loebs: “I will remember Charles Bradley as the most accomplished backchecking defenseman in AMHL history, and the all-time leader in evoking the same question ("Is that guy playing 'D' or forward?") among AMHL newbies. Good luck, Charles (eh?)”

Mike Schneider wrote, “Nicest guy off the ice. On the ice? Tenacious, quick, strong. A beast on defense. The kind of guy you fear going towards or fear may be on your heels. If you beat Charles, you know you played your best.”

Now, Bradley is back in business and back in the game. At the Dunkin’ Donuts in West Concord, he’s his same old amiable self as he sits at the table next to my wife and me. Caring to the core about pets and humans alike, Charles Bradley listens to my wife describe my ongoing injury saga and makes a suggestion or two from his own experience as a hockey player and animal doctor. (You’ve probably seen the bumper sticker, “Be kind to animals. Hug a hockey player.” Right?)

Stop by Domino Veterinary Hospital (DVH), Charlie says, I’ll give you a brochure for the doctor that fixed my wrist.

He stands up to get in line for his coffee as my wife and I prepare to leave. 

(To be continued)

Fall 2012 AMHL Championship Week Roundup

Tuesday, December 18

Flyers vs. Penguins

Concord, MA

As Tonawanda (NY) residents watch (via satellite and streaming Internet) the AMHL Tuesday Championship game, referee Peter Bagley announces the return to five-on-five play in the third period. “All even!” he yells to the Flyers and Penguins, the teams tied at two goals.
 

Tonawanda native Mike Moore eludes two Penguins

Bereft of their beloved Buffalo Sabres, the good citizens of Tonawanda are on their feet to watch their native son, AMHL Flyers defenseman Mike Moore. Will Mikey, they wonder, be able to repeat his spectacular performance in the 2012 Summer Championship?

Moore played his youth hockey way back when Brighton Arena (where he says “the Moore brothers never learned how to backcheck”) didn’t have a roof. He later attended Kenmore East High School (2011-2012 Division II state hockey champs) and worked at Ted’s (Mike recommends the footlong  dog, toasted bun, with everything on it.)

Fast forward to Overtime, the Flyers and Penguins still tied, 2 –2. 

Moore strides forward—skating right to left across your AMHL Internet— cradling the puck and circumnavigating would-be defenders. A left-handed shooter, he arrives in enemy territory and skates below the right face-off circle. Backhand…goal!

Sweet victory for the Flyers, who win the donut-studded Koffey Cup, and fans in Upstate New York, who “head to Ted’s” (and then Paula’s Donuts).

Wednesday, December 19 
Sharks vs. Sabres
Concord, MA

Mike Moore doesn’t play on Wednesdays, but Tonawanderers have traversed the Internet again in search of Sabres hockey. They find the AMHL Wednesday Sabres, who eked out a penalty-filled 2 –1 victory last week against the Rangers, struggling to land shots on Sharks netminder Chris Bade. 

The Sharks, who endured a seven-game mid-season losing streak, are riding hot goaltending and a three-game winning streak.

Chris Bade: All the Big Stops

 

Bade watches his offense-generating players, like defenseman Larry Brown, block shots. Up 3–0 in the second period and the Sabres shooting right to left across your Internet connection, Sharks forward  Rob Witty—a goal-per-game guy—takes one for the team.

In the third period and the Sharks nursing a shut-out, Tony “Sharkie” Psikarakis slides and sweeps the puck from a Sabre’s stick.

The Sabres score twice, though, and Tonawanda is all atwitter.

But Bade and company return to form and put the kibosh on a second celebration in Greater Buffalo. 

Sharkie credits his goalie, saying that Bade “made all the big stops.”

Thursday, December 20
Avalanche vs. Panthers

Concord, MA

Moore is playing on Thursday, for the AMHL  Bruins.  When the folks in Erie County learn Moore is on Rink Two, however, they are not consoled. South Jersey, though, is thrilled to witness one of its own playing for the Koffey Cup.

We join Brent Delehey  and his Panthers against the Avs. Delehey, a Bobby Clark fan if ever there was one, is amped up (after the game, he'll  say his increased intensity may have been caused by the two Aleves he took earlier this morning.) The most likely reason for his elevated compete level is not naproxen but rather that his eldest two sons, Jack and Kevin, are home from college.

The boys watch, from the stands behind the goal in the west end, as their dad wreaks havoc on the Avs.  Delehey is credited with two goals in the first period, and the Panthers lead, 5–3, in the second stanza.


Delehey shoves an Av in front of the players’ bench.  Merry Christmas from Bobby Clark.

“Geez,” one of the boys says as their feisty father skates to the sin bin, “Dad really took that guy out.”

The Panthers kill the penalty, and Delehey (whose nickname in college was “Brr”) is a free man.

Panthers Center Brent Delehey: Channeling His Inner Bobby Clark

To the third period, the Panthers ahead  5–4 and skating far end to near end, Brr plants himself in front of the Avalanche’s crease.  Teammate Paul Nelson shoots. Jack and Kevin watch as the puck deflects off their dad’s skate—and then trickles… over the goal line.

The college kids rise to their feet, applauding and hooting.

Delehey glances upward and flashes a wild child-like grin, not yet knowing that he will spend another two minutes in the penalty box, that the Avs would score on the power play…or that Panthers goalie Anthony Bonfiglio will save the day for the Deleheys, the AMHL Panthers, and all those Philly Flyers fans in the Garden  State.

Friday, December 21

Hawks vs. Whalers

Concord, MA

“It wasn’t our season,” says Moore, after yet another consolation game, this time playing for the Kings. The Royals lost last week to the Whalers, who advanced to play the Hawks.

We rewind the championship game to the second period and the Hawks winning, 5–2.  

Mike Travalent, who netted a hat trick last week against the Stars, shoots low and just inside the post to bolster the lead.

“Wear ‘em down, guys,” a Hawks bench jockey bellows, “Wear ‘em down.”

Neither team scores another goal in the second period, but the Hawks—comprised of several Stow (MA) residents,  score three more in the third to win going away, 9–3.

With that, the AMHL media wishes everyone—from Upstate New York to South Jersey to Middlesex County, MA— safe travels, a joyous Christmas, and happy New Year.



Top Twelve: What To Do During the Lockout

On a day when I might be anticipating the advent of the NHL season, I’ve been investigating alternatives. So, in no particular order, I present activities for the would-be, perhaps used-to-be NHL fans who still love hockey (and donuts).

1.     AHL: No Evegeni Malkin or Henrik Lundqvist; no Patrice Bergeron or Brian Campbell. But Ryan Nugent-Hopkins should be fun to watch in Oklahoma City. And in Hershey, PA, Braden Holtby will get plenty of playing time. Closer to home, in Providence, RI, Jordan Caron should shine at the Dunkin’ Donuts Center, where the most expensive tickets are less than forty bucks.

2.     College Hockey: Will Ferris State advance to Frozen Four again? Will the hockey gods allow Northeastern University or Harvard University win a Beanpot Tournament for the first time since 1993? Please? Regardless of the outcomes, I may spend some of my income not on the Ducks vs. Bruins at the Garden but on a Hockey East game TBD.

3.     AMHL: If the college or AHL games are too expensive for you, consider the free admission to (early morning) games. With NHL team names, a few former D-III college players and a brand new interactive Web site, the AMHL is action-packed and embraces new fans with this mantra: “Come for the hockey, stay for the donuts.”

4.     Hockey Books: For a though-provoking read, consider Adam Proteau’s Fighting the Good Fight. And let’s say your kid plays. Whose Puck is It, Anyway? should also make you think about the best way to conduct youth hockey organizations.

5.     Hockey Name Games: Who are your favorite hockey players? No need to tell me. Contact “the Rick” at Honey Pot Hill Orchards in Stow, MA. He mans the information booth off Sudbury Road, and besides directing visitors to the Courtland and Spartan apples, he’ll also spellbind you with his rapid reverse engineering of any player’s name.

6.     Cider Donuts: While you’re at Honey Pot Hill, you must smell the donut batter. Follow your nose and stop smack dab in the middle of the donut haze generated from the farm store/donut factory. Then go eat one of these golden and delicious gems…or half a dozen. 

7.     Don Cherry: Whether you love “Grapes” or loathe him—or both—I believe you’ll find the first part of Cherry’s two-part hockey story, Keep Your Head Up, Kid, funny, charming, irritating, and insightful. (But disappointing if you’re a Colorado Rockies fan). Jared Keeso nailed the role as Cherry. I expect the second part, The Wrath of Grapes, to be equally compelling.

8.     Road Trip: I mentioned Hershey, PA already, so by all means attend a Bears game and eat the chocolate. Rollercoasters: go for it. The best ride, however, is the History and Chocolate Tour: chock full of humor and Hershey Kisses.

9.     No Check NHL: Note the double entendre. Sans paychecks, some NHLers are playing to no-check hockey and raising money for charity. La Tournee des Joueurs, also becoming known as the Quebec Caravan League, was created by Max Talbot and Bruno Gervais. This two-team tour features several French-Canadian players in games played in La Belle Province. 

10.  Books, Part II: For a more worldly view of hockey, Dave Bidini’s Tropic of Hockey is your best bet. For forget-your-underwear funny, Paul Grant’s Baptism by Ice is the way to go.

11.  Books, Part III. Ok, so I’m running out of ideas faster than you can say “Jonathan Quick got a ten-year contract extension but isn’t being paid .” Or “Taylor Swift.” But here are two novel ideas: Jack Falla’s Saved and Paul Quarrington’s King Leary. Ok, three. In case you’re not in the mood to take on a full book; you’re welcome to read my budding novel, one hockey sentence at a time.

12. Go On: Matthew Perry’s new show, especially the episode featuring Jeremy Roenick, is a hit in my household, where we’re going on with life without the NHL.

Ohlin's Donut Elves

Sunday October 23, 2011

Belmont, MA

While Ernie and his Keebler elves bake their “Uncommonly Good®” Fudge Stripes and Deluxe Grahams in their Hollow Tree Factory, the elves at Ohlin’s Bakery, near the intersection of Trapelo Road and Common Street prepare to serve their chocolate frosted and honey-dipped donuts this Sunday morning.

At 6:00 a.m. and daybreak more than five dozen minutes away, the sublime intersection of glaze and frosting, yeast and cake, transport me to pre-dawn mornings in 1986-87, when I was a donut elf myself, at the bakery in Toddy’s Supermarket, located at the union of Lemay Avenue and Drake Road in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Working during the wee hours, I would stand on cardboard that lay flat in front of the fryer, and I would watch the bottom half of the doughy circles turn golden brown. Time to make the donuts…turn over. Flipping the ringlets with long slender wooden implements, which resembled drumsticks, classical music from a Bad News Bears movie (more commonly known as Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture) played in my mind’s ear.

Back in Belmont, the donuts on display delight the AMHL (and Donut) Photographer and me. As we ponder our donut selection, we engage the elves in conversation.

The eldest elf, a cheery worker wearing a purple top, says she’s worked at Ohlin's sixteen years. “I married one of the bakers,” she explains, smiling and ready to serve customers.

The donut holes seem as big as a fist. Tempting.

The younger elf, in her late teens and wearing a non-uniform purple top, references the honey-dipped donuts. “We bake and sell more of these than any other,” she says.

My wife is sold, not only on their potential flavor but also on the photogenic flair. Bold and beautiful, these donuts are bound for daytime drama and glory. (Later today, the donuts will witness the wonder of the Head of the Charles Regatta.)

I focus on the fudge-like quality of the chocolate frosting. Fresh and thick and moist, the topping bonds with the bottom. One of these darlings might also be featured in a photo. But how will it taste?

We’re about to learn as we sit in our car—until we realize we’ve forgotten to buy coffee—and then must return to the brick edifice.

Once inside the Hollow Tree Factory, er, bakery, I tell the younger elf that the camera crew is right behind me. The teenager strikes a pose as another elf—this one with a tray of donuts—appears from the kitchen.

We learn that this pixie is Ma Elf’s daughter. Ohlin’s, established in the 1960s, appears to be a family business. The pose-striking elf says she feels like part of the family.

“Does that mean I have to pay for college?” Ma Elf asks, an impish grin forming to complement her pointy (not really) ears.

My wife and I buy two more donuts (and the coffee) and then return to our car.

She bites into the Honey-dipped. “Oh my God,” she says as I anticipate the fudgey frosting of the donut before me. But the selfless Photographer offers me a bite of her donut. The high-def honey-dipped is sticky but not overly so and oh so sweet and warm and wonderful.

I sink my incisors into the Chocolate Frosted: The chocolate melts as the yeast condenses. Magic. I sip the French vanilla coffee. The Earth ceases its spinning.

Those Keeblers have nothing on Ohlin’s donut elves.

AMHL Thursday Champioship: Breaking News

Thursday, August 25 2011
Concord, MA

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled coverage of (insert your East Coast natural disaster here) for this important hockey news:

While some Eastern U.S. residents perform minor clean-up after this week’s earthquake, and New Englanders prepare for a tropical storm, the AMHL Panthers and Avalanche are engaged in a scoreless tie in the championship game.

Anthony Bonfiglio, who led all Thursday AMHL goalies this season in GAA, and Dan Barros, no stranger to Koffey Cup victories, have endured surge after surge of would-be scorers. Stay tuned for updates as we return you to Barry Burbank and the meteorological maps.

The latest spaghetti diagrams indicate the most likely path—hold on, Barry, this just in:

Broadcaster turned blueliner, Ken MacLeod’s shot. From the right point, MacLeod, an award-winning journalist last seen sporting a salmon-colored tie and sitting behind a news desk, now anchors the Panther blueline corps. He has blasted a slapper past Barros. 1–0 Panthers with less than two minutes remaining in the second period. We return you to your local weather-related news coverage.

The eye of the hurricane is approaching—Sorry, Barry. More breaking news from the rink:

MacLeod has done it again. With less than a minute remaining in the second stanza, Kenny, who grew up cheering for Bobby Orr and the Bruins, charged up the right side, charmed his way into the Avalanche zone, skated left through the slot and snapped a low shot to Barros’s left. 2–0 Panthers after two periods.

And now a word from our sponsor: Advertising agency Arnold Worldwide has landed the Boston Bruins account. And marketing maven and Panther forward Paul “Whoa Nellie” Nelson can bear-ly contain his excitement.

And we’re back to the game: In the waning minutes of the third period, Nellie backhands the puck into an empty net. “Good night, Irene,” the early-morning crowd whispers to each other as they anticipate the Panthers victory and the impending Koffey Cup celebration.

The Three Stars, as voted by the media

3. Dan “Gale Force” Barros: Superb goaltending despite the loss
2. Anthony “the Eyewall” Bonfiglio: Splendid season capped with a shutout
1. Ken MacLeod: Award-winning goals (and ties)

Honorable mention:

The Bruins Bear
Weather-tracking technology
Vermont Tourism

Breathe, B's Fans

April 17, 2011
Concord, MA

“I'm not leaving without a fight.”


-“The Outsiders” by Need to Breathe

As this song played at my favorite Dunkin’ Donuts on Sunday morning (less than twelve hours after the Bruins lost Game Two to the Canadiens) , I chose to scan— rather than read every word, as I’m wont to do—every story about Boston’s Bruins in the Boston Globe. I plucked from amongst the rubble of negativity, a few positive points to include below.

Top Twelve Reasons to Believe in our Bruins

1. Comebacks: In best-of-seven series, the team down 0-2 has come back thirty-seven times to win that series.

2. Number 37: Patrice Bergeron won fifty-three percent of his face-offs, got a goal, and had six shots on goal.

3. Shots on Goal: Sixty-six in two games. Keep shooting and they will go in.

4. Ding Dong: Our shots that have been hitting a post, which don’t count as shots on goal, will go in, too.

5. Tomas Kaberle: The much-maligned defenseman was a plus-1 in Game Two.

6. The Power Play: The Devils, in 1993, were the dregs of man-advantage play in the regular season. They also won the Cup.

7. Hit the Road: The Bruins won two dozen games on the road this season, two more than they did at home.

8. Puttin’ on the Hits: Bruins, 35; Habs: 27.

9. Stranger Things: If the Penguins can go 15–10–4 sans Sidney Crosby and minus Evgeni Malkin, the Bruins can win this series.

10. Rebounds: The Bruins have strung together consecutive wins together after having lost two in a row.

11. Remember 2008: Down two games then, we can get this series to Game Seven.

12. Big Zed: Claude Julien says it's "looking good" for Chara to play in Game Three.

We need to breathe, Boston. Let’s back our Bruins.

American Hearing Impaired Hockey Association: Magic and Medals

This piece was originally published, circa 2006, at USAHockey.com but is no longer available on the Internet as far as I can tell.

Bronze, silver, and gold medals: the US Deaf Olympic hockey team has won them all. The magic is not in the medals but in the preparation, which glitters at Stan Mikita’s summer camp for the hearing impaired, and the love, which lingers via long distance until friends meet next summer.

Mikita and Irv Tiahnybik founded the American Hearing Impaired Hockey Association (AHIHA), which funds the hockey school, because Tiahnybik told his NHL friend that mainstream hockey groups were hassling his son, Lex, for being hard of hearing. Mikita was happy to help Lex and 30 other students who attended the first camp in 1973.

Since then, students have returned to this hockey haven not only to play their passion and to share hockey stories with loyal friends, but also to mentor younger students. You see, 2000 students have completed at least one camp. Many have graduated from high school and college, married, had kids…but still return to Illinois every summer to volunteer their time because they believe the program was—and still is—magical.

Tom Schaffner, AHIHA’s volunteer spokesman says that despite advances in technology that have helped hearing impaired hockey players, “You still get kids coming to our school at age seven or eight…they’re wild, they’re anti social because…of [their] hearing loss and rebellious by nature at that age—boys, and we have girls, frankly.

Karen Wonoski’s son Mike, who can’t wait to attend his 11th camp next summer, was feisty and frustrated. It’s hard to watch your kid struggle with the inability to communicate with peers and teachers who don’t fully comprehend that an eight-year-old is just learning how to talk.

Ten years later, Mike’s mom reflects upon he son’s first camp, “It’s amazing to see how kids found themselves.” Today, Mike plays hockey for St. Mary’s High School in Lynn, MA. There, he’s one of the guys; he has learned to adapt, and his teammates and coaches don’t give him special treatment. As much as wants to win a high school championship and hopes to play college hockey, he looks forward to next summer. Until then, he’ll stay in touch with his hearing-impaired hockey pals via the Internet.

Karen marvels at the influence hockey school has had on Mike and is proud of the way hockey players, especially disabled players, stick together. This past summer, Mike, who can speak, and a boy, who doesn’t speak at all, were planning to fly to Calgary for the Alberta Centennial to compete against other disabled hockey players from Canada and the States.

Inside Boston’s Logan Airport, Mike and his friend were paged, but even with hearing aids, they couldn’t hear the announcement. “So when you see that,” Karen recalls, “you start to go, ‘geez, is it gonna be alright?’” Just then, she saw a gentleman holding hockey sticks for a boy who had no arms. Upon learning the disabled boy and his family were also headed to Calgary for the same event, Karen asked if they could keep and eye on her son and the other boy. The man, who didn’t know Karen or her son from a hole in the wall, was too happy to help.

Karen left the airport grateful, only to receive a text message from Mike, “My flight has been cancelled, and I’m going to Dallas. Gotta go.”

Because of bad weather, Mike’s flight was diverted to the airline’s hub in the Big D. Karen had no idea if Mike was on his own or with the other family, but she later learned that Mike’s adoptive family had not only kept an eye on him and the other boy but had invited them to lunch. They had gone the extra mile to watch Mike’s games in Calgary too.

Schaffner hesitates to refer to his organization as magical, but feels it is. “We don’t solve everything—and I’m not trying to make it sound that way—but it’s good news when you have that kind of results in kids [and] when you actually give them something to look forward to, even if it’s only a week a year.

Or a few days in Salt Lake City for the 2007 Winter Deaflympics, to chase another medal, relish in the recall on the Internet until you meet again to play, to laugh, to offer each other a helping hand, if not a fully functional ear.

Update: In Salt Lake City, Mike Wonoski scored the game-winner to lift Team USA to a

4–3 victory overTeam  Canada.

Team USA went on to defeat Team Germany, 6–0 to win the gold medal.

Michael Wonoski is still playing hockey, at Rochester Institute of Technology.

AMHL Championship Week: A Week for the Ages, Part I

Before the fall season is in full swing, let’s reminisce about mid-August, when AMHLers, ages 18ish to 60ish—from the teen scene to the AARP crowd—proved that, in the words of an NHL initiative, hockey is for everyone.

Tuesday, August 16
Concord, MA
Flyers vs. Blues

“C’mon, Brian,” Flyer defenseman Mike DeLeo yells encouragement to his goalie, Brian Monahan. The Flyers and Blues, tied at six late in the third period, prepare for a face-off in the Flyers’ zone.

Monahan, who surrendered six goals in the first two periods, has been standing tall this period. His son, AMHL rookie and fellow Flyer Daniel, watches as his dad, who has been in the league since its inception in 1998, dig his blades into the crease and then step forward to greet another AMHL regular. The fabled “Peterborough Pete” Kokas is unguarded and poised to shoot from the slot. Kokas, perhaps focused on the five-hole, fires—and watches Monahan, a classic stand-up goalie, snare the puck, wedged between his leg pads.

“Woo!” the ever-ebullient DeLeo exclaims.

Less than a minute later, Tuesday rookie Marc Vallee—who toiled in la ligue mercredi for twos season before he was called-up—skates with the puck, deep into Blues’ territory. In the face-off circle to Cook’s right, Vallee launches a rocket; the puck rises toward the top corner, over Cook’s glove, and then bulges the twine. Six au cinq, les Flyers.

During an AMHL-TV timeout, Monahan mimics the monolithic Montreal Canadien, Ken Dryden. Unlike Dryden, whose goalie stick was perpendicular to the ice as leaned on its handle, Monahan’s stick juts out at a forty-five degree angle, in perpetual poke-check position.

As Dryden perhaps gleaned material to include in his book, Monahan may be pondering his next save. Or maybe he’s reflecting on this season spent playing hockey with his Daniel.

The father will share, by e-mail, his thoughts about his son’s first AMHL campaign. “I think he gets the game, likes the action and was never big on hitting so (the AMHL is) a perfect place for him. Frankly sometimes his passes were what I admired the most and I was glad to see his points are lots of assists. Plus I think he has a nice shot. The guys on this team were just great with him which I appreciated too. Maybe the highlight was his two goals against Dana (Salvo) and crew including I think a tip-in either in the last minute or OT – I don’t recall.”

The Flyers don’t need OT to defeat the Blues, as Monahan’s goaltending stands up (and another goal from Vallee doesn’t hurt).

The Monahans mingle with the Koffee Cup and then skate toward the locker room.

Before Mike DeLeo follows them into the room where the revelry will continue, he says of his goalie’s performance, “two weeks in a row, he’s been standing on his head.”


Wednesday August 17
Concord, MA
Rangers vs. Sabres


Late in the first period, Mike DeLeo, now wearing his Ranger whites, works the d.-to-d. passing with Mike Gardner. The two longtime AMHLers help advance the puck up-ice to their forwards. The Rangers have dominated the Sabres thus far and lead, late in the first period, 3–0.

The crowd, all three youngsters (if two’s company, three’s a crowd, eh?) are fidgety, not for fear that their dad (Ranger forward “Grinder Greg” Longtine) and the Rangers will squander the lead, but because they’re, well, wee ones hopped-up on the donuts they scored from the donut room.

Baby-faced Ranger goalie Tyler Boudreau (pictured above), the only apparent twenty-something on the ice, has stopped every shot so far. Subbing for Bobby Kilkenny, Boudreau watches the second period action: The Rangers, led by fervent forechecker Warren Brown and bolstered by DeLeo and Gardner’s steady backline presence, continue to control the puck.

But Boudreau is called upon when the defense falters, when Sabre forward Paul Anastas robs the puck from DeLeo along the back boards. Anastas skates behind the net and then attempts a stick-side wrap-around. Boudreau is quick as a chipmunk, though, and stymies the sneaky Anastas.

In the third period, the Rangers ahead 5–0, a shutout is all but a forgone conclusion—until Anastas finally beats Boudreau, who seemed to have been screened on the shot.

The Ranger rookie allows just the one goal en route to his first Koffey Cup, and DeLeo earns his second title—this week.

Stay tuned for Part II

On the Shelf, Part X: “Ice Ice Baby”

June 27, 2010

“If there’s a problem, yo, I’ll solve it.”
-Vanilla Ice

All the well-intentioned vanilla platitudes from friends and family haven’t cleared the air of despair choking the hope that I’ll play hockey again. More problematic than my doubt and lack of gratitude is my greatest fear: That I’ll lose my purpose in life.

I know that the hockey gods/The Force/The Great Pumpkin/Whatever You Want to Call Him, Her, It or Them, want me to enjoy life while I serve others as best I can, but I haven’t felt that way for much of the last eight weeks—since the surgery to repair what the surgeon called “a very large hole” in my groin.

So far, I’m two weeks behind the twelve-week recovery/physical therapy plan, and sometimes I feel like I’m losing ground. I guess I’m a slow learner and a slow healer. I’ve also allowed my unpredictable physical state to permeate my soul. And I’ve been feeling bad that I feel bad because I’m well aware that others endure catastrophes with more grace than I’ve exhibited during this temporary setback.

But the hockey gods work in mysterious and musical ways for me: I’m laying down, back on the purple couch in my Zen room, listening to a CD my wife mixed for me. The Force nudges my spirit awake as I listen to “Live Now” (Paul Brandt). My fingers then dance along to “Suerte” (Jason Mraz with Ximena Sariñana), and then, to “Good Vibrations” (Glee Cast Version). I think of all the people who are pulling for me: my wife, my hockey pals, and friends outside hockey circles. The Great Presence is transforming my knowledge into a more solid belief.

As the Glee cast sings Mr. Ice’s classic, I picture my little brother during his recent visit to Boston: He’s in the back seat of the car and rapping to the same song I’m listening to now. He surprises my wife and me with his knowledge of the lyrics, softly hip-hopping along—and then pumping up the volume, “Beachfront Avenue!”

Five hours later, I’ve listened to "Ice Ice Baby" again. I’ve decided to keep putting one front in front of the other. I’ll continue to ice ice after physical therapy and, as my brother told me not long after his 80s flashback: Forget faith and hope and expectation for a moment and just accept where I am now.

Word to my brother (and all of my supporters): Thanks. I love you.

Donuts on the Dashboard, Part I

January 17, 2010

While Hollywood gathers for the Golden Globes , I’m writing a short film based upon a true story. I call it, for now, Donuts on the Dashboard.

The final scene: Orleans, MA. Saturday January 16, 2010
9:00 a.m. Cape Cod. Powder blue sky. A cold salt breeze prompts me to hunch my shoulders as I stride toward the car.

The AMHL Photographer (a.k.a. my wife) then strolls back from the beach to join me. She pulls open the driver’s door of charcoal gray Ford Escape and then, as she sits down, places on the dashboard two of the largest, most textured donuts I’ve ever seen. She catches her breath…

Backstory: Earlier in the week, the Photographer suggested that we drive to the Cape to mix business (taking pictures of donuts) and pleasure (eating them). We hadn’t been to the Cape since October, so we agreed upon the first scene..

Scene I: Hole in One Restaurant, Orleans
We sat at a corner table next to the north-facing window. Each enjoying a cup of Bavarian Strudel coffee, we daydreamed about donuts and waited for the breakfast we had ordered.

The waitress set my meal before me.

“Those are the fluffiest egg whites I’ve ever seen,” the Photographer said but didn’t take a picture of them.

I had ordered a healthy meal (sans le fromage and with turkey bacon) because I knew I wouldn’t able to resist the, well, pièce de résistance, the après petit déjeuner. Les donuts. (Movie marketers love it when you flick in a little French because it stimulates an international buzz).

Scene II: Drive to the Set
The donuts were not for eating. Not yet. They would first be photo fodder. A dozen of Cape Cod’s best, boxed and beside me, might have been wondering which was the prettiest, the most photogenic. Or which two treats would be selected as the special guest star donuts that might be nominated for Golden Globes next year?

Scene III, Act I: The Beach
The Photographer lifted open the white box to reveal the awesome assortment of actors (playing themselves): the crunchy, yet distinguished Coconut; the handsome Plain; the kooky but delightful Toasted Coconut; the divine Sour Cream twins; the wistful Lemon-filled; the old school Chocolate Frosted; three glamorous Glazed; the secular and succulent Chocolate Glazed; and the new kid in town, Honey Wheat.

“The Plain, the Plain,” I said, because its rugged golden brown features would offer the most promising complement to the backdrop: the ice-crusted harbor surrendering to the sandy beach.

Stay tuned for Part II