I had a hockey puck and stick-the only ones in town. I definitely would have played hockey ahead of football, had it been available.
Our system of forechecking is to shoot the puck and leave it there.
Good news, they found Nemo! The bad news is, they found him in one of Wolfgang Puck's puff pastries.
My focus was always first and foremost to stop the puck. I never let the other players on the other team get to me.
Because the demands on the goalie are mostly mental, it means that for a goalie the biggest enemy is himself. Not a puck, not a opponent, not a quirk of size or style. The stress and anxiety he feels when he plays, the fear of failing, the fear of being embarrassed, the fear of being physically hurt, all symptoms of his position, in constant ebb and flow, but never disappearing. The successful goalie understands these neuroses, accept them, and put them under control. The unsuccessful goalie is distracted by them, his mind in knots. His body quickly follows.
The quintessential bad - luck position. Pucks can go off bodies, skates, bounce into the net.
Goalies often react quickly to shots with no regard for what might happen to their body because we are trained to stop pucks first and ask questions later.
That's the coolest thing I've ever seen," Puck said. "How cool will it be when it kills us?" Sabrina asked. "Considerably less cool," Puck replied.
Maybe one of the monsters ate him," Daphne whimpered. "That would be awesome," Puck said. Sabrina flashed him an angry look. "Awesome in a terrible, heartbreakingly tragic way," Puck continued.
You ignorant little rodent! This isn't just an old book. This is the book of Everafter." "Sorry, I haven't read it. I'm waiting for the movie," Puck said.
Don't duh me!" Puck snapped. "Trying to figure out what you're thinking from one day to the next takes more brains than I have." Well, maybe you should stop. I'd hate to burn out that little peanut in your head.
You can't be happy, taking away something I've worked on all my life to do and help my teammates and help my defense, ... It's just part of me, playing the puck. So, definitely, you can't be happy.
When I was a kid, everyone called me crazy for playing goal, but they were the ones chasing after the puck while I just let it come to me.
Puck turned to Sabrina. "What is she doing down there?" Hiding, I guess." Puck leaned down and poked his head under the seat. "I found you." Ms. Smirt shrieked. Puck lifted himself up to his full height and laughed. "She's fun." He leaned back down and she screamed again. "I could do this all day. Can I keep her?
Guys would take runs at me even if I didn't have the puck. [On one occasion] my coach told me that the other team were told to hit number 21 as hard as they could the first period, so we switched jerseys.
Every time a puck gets past me and I look back into the net, I say, 'uh-oh.'
I won't eat in a restaurant with filthy bathrooms. This isn't a hard call. They let you see the bathrooms. If the restaurant can't be bothered to replace the puck in the urinal or keep the toilets and floors clean, then just imagine what their refrigeration and work spaces look like.
In Detroit, Ned [Harkness] kept talking about a new concept, and when I'd ask him what he meant he never gave me the right answer. Now, take Bobby Hull. Give him a puck, a stick and a pair of skates and put him on your team. Do you need a new concept?
It's lacrosse that helped teach me to spin off checks, take shots and protect the puck under pressure. My stick skills, the way to read the play quickly comes from lacrosse. The hand-eye coordination, is just one of the little things that helps you in hockey.
Puck rushed into the kitchen. He looked as if he had just gotten off a roller coaster. "That was awesome!" he cried. "The arrow coming out is totally more fun to watch going in.
Puck stopped his drumming [on his belly] for a brief moment and grinned at Sabrina. I hear they have a lot of plastic surgeons in New York City. If I were you I'd make an appointment for that face as soon as you get there," he quipped. Sabrina scowled and shook a fist at him. "Keep it up, stinkpot, and you're going to need a plastic surgeon yourself." Puck winked. "No need to get all mushy on me, Grimm.
By the way, you don't need the makeup." Puck said.
She looked around. "Oh, I've just got to hug somebody! You!" And she hugged Puck, the little ghost horse. "And you." She hugged Pook, and Peek, and even the nose of the moat monster. "But not you," she decided, encountering the zombie.
I didn't say I would start a yard." "You didn't have to. I'll come back next year and you'll have a nest of horses outside your window and Puck Connolly in your bed and I'll buy from you instead of Malvern. That's your future for you.
You watch a hockey game, and the hand-eye coordination and the speed is really miraculous; how those guys track the puck alone, just following it with their eyes.
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