#goalies are a different breed

[ratatatastic]

"Funny enough I—like, if street hockey, ministicks, I always wanted to be a goalie too! Like, for some reason I always wanted to go in net. You know, probably because of [my Dad] and then, um, you know, once you get dinged a couple times and the shots get too hard you realise—then it's not so much fun after all so... Yeah, it was great he'd always—" "You probably wanted to be goalie 'cuz you're fucking crazy, man! Those guys are bananas! I actually went as a goalie in morning skate one time when I was suspended in the coast, and it was the scariest thing ever, bro. It's nothing like blocking a shot because you're literally just standing there, and these guys are shooting right at you. It's unbelievable!" "Yeah! You gotta get in the way of the stuff to save it! That's crazy! I know, and like obviously gear is like great and they don't really feel—but there is, like, that psychological thing going on where, like, you know, you wanna move out of the way 'cuz it's gonna hurt! I get—I mean, it must not hurt that much, like, 'cuz Bob's crazy, man! Bob loves taking—Well, I wouldn't say loves taking it off the head, but he doesn't hate it, like he—" "Feels good?" "You know, every once in a while—they hit him in the head and you go up and say sorry he's like, 'No, no! It's all good! I love it, I love it!!' and like, kind-of shoos you away so."

The Buzz Pod | 8.7.24 (x)

so speaking of banking pucks off bobbys head and how much he loves it flashback to that day in october of 23 where bobby was doing that for practise and managed to rope in matthew to the shenanigans to the utter confusion of everyone involved (x)(x)(x)(x)

[ghostwnby]

Very normal

Certified normal goalie

[berry-s0da]

Every goalie looks like a different breed of shark

[loserdudes]

Goalies are just a different breed🤨

[longliveyamo]

Not a Boston fan, but even I have to admit that their goalies are a different breed

[papersasquatch]

Gather around children, and allow me to share the story of the Milk Man.

The Milk Man is a legend from my dear old high school, practically brought into sainthood for his vast contribution to the school's lore as being the reason for this incredibly straight, white-suburban, gentrified-town-ass school's first ever walkout.

So, let me set the scene: My school was initially built to be a jail. That is not a joke. Once the foundation was placed, for one reason or another, some major overhauls to its interior blueprint transformed it into the high school building we know and love today. However, some places remained oddly jail-like in structure, including, mainly, the cafeteria. This was an open space between the top and bottom floors, retaining a single spiral staircase to get between them, and a balcony along the top floor which looked down into the seating area. It was quite large, as despite the fact that this was our town's second non-catholic high school, it was also filled with kids from the nearby major city who's dickhead cop dads wanted them to go to the whitest, suburban-flooded school imaginable. Needless to say, it was a cesspool of frat-house energy, axe body spray and seniors who believe they can get away with anything.

You might now be able to put two and two together that hazing (or Senior Pranks for y'all Americans) was quite popular. Every year, the limits seemed to get tested. One that I remember most distinctly was the time a senior purchased over 200 crickets from petsmart and let them loose in the lockers of the hallway known as "suic*de hallway", named as such since it was the narrowest hallway in the school but also was the only connection between the east and west wings, had lockers on both sides, and also contained the entry to the library and two other classrooms. It was cricket mania for the rest of the fall term, especially once they began breeding in the walls, but that's besides the point.

Now, everyone who ever hazed that school had major shoes to fill, and the continual pushing of the limits might have been due to the legend of the Milk Man. Now, with the mythologizing of this man certain aspects may be exaggerated, however having seen what I have seen from this school, I doubt any of it is by much.

One day in 2003, a senior student, the same as any other and not yet known by his grand mantra, decided to partake in some fun, "light-hearted" hazing. He arrived with his hockey bag, a bag basically the size of a twin mattress designed to carry hockey sticks, skates, and goalie armor, however within it, he carried no such thing. No, instead of the necessities for this country's grand sport, he had filled his hockey bag with over a dozen 4 liter jugs of milk.

Up the elevator to the second floor he went, and during lunch hour when the cafeteria was the busiest, he stood watching like a hawk preparing its descent onto its prey from the balcony above.

If I gain no other information from the grand hive of human consciousness upon my death other than what this 18 year old adult man's thought process was as he dumped the bag over the side of the balcony, I'd still be satisfied. However, I can't imagine it was much different than: "Oh yeah, this is such a good idea."

Shrieks from the cafeteria below echoed throughout the school as chaos erupted from the tsunami of 2%. The jugs exploded on impact, milk reaching every inch of the cafeteria within mere seconds, the rapid evacuation from the premises had begun as soon as the first carton hit the ground. And thus in a blaze of grand fury and an explosion of white fire, the Milk Man had been born.

He was very quickly arrested.

Fortunately, the cafeteria hadn't been as heavily populated that day as it normally was, and so no one was harmed in the incident, however the initial clean up alone took the rest of the week. However, this marked a landmark occasion in the school's history, as it was the first time a student had been arrested for a hazing, rather than simply being suspended. To some students, hearing about the arrest of the Milk Man despite the fact that no one had gotten hurt felt unfair. Why should someone be arrested for simply unleashing 48L of milky hell, raining down upon the school's most frequently populated common area?

And so, the next landmark in my school's history. They called the march "Free the Milk Man". It was the grandest display of frat house privilege and pure absurdity that the school had ever seen. Dozens of students walking out of class all at once, demanding that the crimes of the Milk Man be forgiven.

Typically tellings of the story end here. I've heard one ending that the protest worked, and the Milk Man was freed and forgiven, though more likely he was bailed out by his rich parents or something.

After all was said and done, the legend of the Milk Man has been passed through the school for generations, every new senior hazing day met with more and more absurd pranks hoping to one day go down in history, though none have ever truly stood the test of time the same way. Even now, after all these years, the Milk Man has made his mark on the history of the school, as well as the cafeteria's 40ft high ceiling.

All Hail The Milk Man.

[ferdabuds]

can we actually conduct a study and find out why hockey goalies are so weird. like we all know and accept that they're all weirdos... but how and why? do you have to be genetically a different breed to be inclined to become a hockey goaltender?

[midnightsnyx]

👑 If you could add an award to the NHL awards, what would it be and who would be its inaugural recipient?

Hi friend & ty for the ask 🫶���� I love ask games

So I think it would be hilarious if they could somehow come up with an award for how weird goalies are 😂 and I can’t even decide on which goalie it would be because they’re all a different breed & I love it

weird hockey ask game

[sportofusalacrosse]

Top lacrosse video today: Lacrosse Goalies Are A DIFFERENT BREED Of Human #shorts

Top lacrosse news

Best tweets – 2023. 07. 17.

[hintzy]

anyways more on the goalie solidarity

just like hockey goalies ive worked with a lot of soccer goalies and trust me they are also a different breed

[pawpurrus]

Just goalies being the quirky creatures that they are.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

goalies are a different fucking breed

most hockey goalies use gear bags with wheels, bc goalie gear is fuckin chonk, but my first season playing beer league we had a goalie who carried his gear duffel-style over his shoulder. this guy hardly ever said a word in the locker room, but one time I saw him hauling his shit out of the rink half-bent-over and I was like "dude, why don't you use a bag with wheels" and he stopped short, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "it makes me appreciate the game more."

fucking goalies, man

[st-louis]

archiving this for future reference but goalies really just are a different breed.

[montrealmadison]

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here. 

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries. 

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know? 

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means. 

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special. 

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who  bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

[croatian-nt]

Livi podcast

The guests of the podcasts are Dominik Livaković and Marjan Mrmić(who is goalie coach)

Translation under the cut

Host: Tell me a bit about your season in Dinamo. It was one of, if not the best season ever in Dinamo. What would you say, what happened? How did you guys become so good?

Livi: I guess there are more quality players now. And we worked well together and..yeah. I guess something just clicked

Marjan: He is being humble. Dominik had an excellent season and he knew how to stay calm in stressful situations and that calmed the rest of the team

Livi: *looks at the floor*

Host: was losing against Ferencvaros the turning point? What made you all be that much better after?

Livi: well I suppose it was important. I mean, I think I could almost say it was a good thing we lost so early on, considering the rest of the season

Host: I am not sure director of finances in dinamo agrees

Livi, laughing: well no, probably not but I think we brought it enough money later on

Host: you defended a penalty against Cluj. Well two actually. Was that harder to do or was watching Suba defending penalties during WC?

Livi: oh wow *laughs * that's-I mean you can't compare those two things. Completely different feelings. But I suppose there wasn't that much pressure put on me during those penalities because I didn't know they would be the last. But Suba is probably one of the best goalies Croatia ever had, if not the best. So I really don't think that's comparable

 Host: Alright, first card break. You need to choose between two things

Marjan: Nutmerg or dribble?

Livi: what?

Host: *repeats it *

Livi: *loading * oh! Nutmeg. *laughs * especially when it's Vida

Host: did that happen?

Domo: *yelling from the background * (I think he said "he didn't say that!" But it's not clear) *

Livi: *laughs * Anyway, next question

 Marjan: Meat or fish?

Livi: Hmm. Meat

 Marjan: Pizza or hamburger?

Livi: Pizza. Especially after a winning game

 Host: how did you start with your goalie career? Since most guys want to score a goal

Livi: well, I can't quite remember. I was attacker one day and goalie the next. I like the way goalies threw themselves to catch a ball I guess

 Host: are all goalies this calm? Or are you and Marjan exceptions?

Livi: I mean, there are some goalies that are crazy *laughs, shakes his head * but I am more of a calm type. Works better for me. Although there is that saying 'you are a goalie? You must be crazy' so you know

 Host: Second card break. It's who in the national team...?

Marjan: who takes the longest to get read in the nt?

Livi: oh, Vida

Marjan: Who runs the fastest?

Livi: Vida

Host: Vida, again?

Livi: *shrugs, laughing *

Livi: who has the most precise shoot?

Marjan: right now? Oršić

Host: Livi, would you agree as his teammate?

Livi: well yes, of course he is very good. But Vida is also very good, especially recently, he scored a lot

Marjan: who has the best hairstyle?

Livi: * laughs, covers his mouth*

Host: yeah, you can use Vida again here

Livi: yeah, yeah... Vida has the best hair

Livi: who has the best sense of humor?

Marjan: Vida

*all laugh, Domo yelling again from the background *

 Host: so your first, well second game, against England, what do you remember from it? Were you nervous?

Livi: yes, of course. When I read the list of names of their players...I certainly felt nervous. It has been...what? 5 years since then?

Host: 3, 4 years actually. Autumn in 2018?

Livi: Really?

 Host: who are players who you find most fun? The ones whose company you liked the most during WC?

*Livi, looking at Vida and laughing *

Host: EXCEPT for Vida

Livi: Then, there were also Šime, Dejan and Broz

 Host: except for not missing being on a bench, do you miss Suba in nt?

Livi, smiling: yes, I miss him. I miss him a lot. We have been on a coffee the other day, actually

Host: what would you say, how did you improve as a goalie? But please don't give me a generic answer like, experience

Livi: experience *laughs * I am kidding, I am kidding. But I have been working on playing with my foot a lot. That's what I concentrate on the most and I think I improved. Other goalie stuff well...you learn in every training

 Host: okay, new set of cards, but with one new rule. Who would you choose from nt but WITHOUT Domagoj Vida

Marjan: who would you choose as a singer in a band

Livi, laughing: who else am I supposed to choose? Who else?

Host: alright, alright. I'll give you that one

Marjan: who would you let babysit your kid for a few hours?

*Livi, laughing*

Host: no. No you can't

Livi: hmmm. Then I suppose either Kale or Vrsaljko. They have a lot of experience

Livi: who would you let choose your outfit

Marjan: hmmm. Dominik

Marjan: who would you choose as a co-driver on rallying?

Livi: oh, Šime for sure. When he presses accelator...he doesn't stop

  Host: so tell me, do you plan to stay in Dinamo forever? Or did you have some plans for future clubs?

Livi: I don't think much ahead. Everytime I do, it doesn't exactly end up that way. We'll see. I feel good in Dinamo right now. We have amazing results and I feel like home. Zadar is close, too

Host: Well then. Don't forget about out deal. If you sign up for Barcelona you have to go to every nt conference for the rest of your career

Livi: *laughs awkardly *

Host: I hope it still counts. I mean Ter Stengen isn't bad but I am holding onto your word about that

Livi: alright

 Host: Let's ask something more private. We know you are in a relationship and by recent covid regulations we are allowed to have bigger weddings again so...I am kidding, but in all seriousness did you think about starting a family?

Livi: well yes, of course I have. I mean, all the people I know that have children think of them as biggest blessing. I do want that, at some point

 Host: pets?

Livi, smiling again: yes, Cruz

Host: what breed is he?

Livi: pomsky. Do I really need to explain?

Host: ...a bit

Livi: * explains *He is wonderful. I mean he is mine, but...he is really wonderful. He makes you so happy, especially when you come home after being away...it's amazing

 Host: Helena used to do ice skating and according to Vida, you are the best dancer on the team. That means your first dance will be amazing

Livi: *laughs * I am not so sure about that. I think I'll need to practice a lot, even more than I did to learn how to defend a goal. But we'll see how that'll go. And I have to say that Vida lied. But maybe he is the best. He dances...really good

Host: he has a good sense for rhythm?

Livi: he rips shirts a lot

 Host: New card break. Favorites

Marjan, reading a question from the card: what's your favorite childhood moment?

Host: the one that isn't connected to football

Livi: not connected to fooball. Uff. I am not sure I remember. Hmmm

Host: that far away huh?

Livi: *laughs * yeah. I guess coming back from school and everything being alright(I am guessing he means grades wise)

Host: that moments were so rare huh?

 Marjan: Favorite series?

Livi: Game of Thrones

 Host: what's your hobbies, except for series? What so you do when you don't play football

Livi: well, I actually like to play basketball. I am from Zadar, after all. I started with basketball first actually, before switching to football

 Host: okay, I gotta ask. Why do goalies spit in their gloves?

Livi: well so the ball sticks to them better. So it doesn't fall out of our hands *rubs palms together * so they are...wet. *realizes what he said * but yeah uh. Mostly so you don't drop the ball

 Host: do you prefer long or short sleeved jersey? And how do you choose that?

Livi: I like long sleeved one better

Host: except when it's really hot?

Livi: yeah...when it's really hot I choose short sleeved undershit

 Host: Anyway, you guys told me not to make this too long considering there is a final of Europe league that you want to watch. Any preferences about who wins?

Livi: No, I think both teams are great. They have different qualities so, we'll see

Marjan: I think Manchester United will win. Longer tradition

Host: Either way, thank you guys for participating in today's podcast. And to everyoone who is watching, I hope you'll watch us tomorrow as well. Goodbye

[pajorko]

He got kicked in the face, I guess it will do

Wojtek, I'm not daring you, but the last time we player (S)pain out goalie saved a goal with the face