Defense Hockey Quotes

This one also has Anderson on the back, because I’d die before I saw this woman wear anyone’s jersey but mine.

Maya’s story could easily have ended the same way as Ruth’s story. The things that took everything in a completely different direction were so small. A mom who fought, a dad who loved, a brother who was there, a best friend who took on the whole damn world. An old witch who owned a pub, who went into a meeting at the hockey club and spoke in Maya’s defense. And, last of all, a witness who had seen everything and eventually dared to say so out loud. That was all. No more than that.

decide right in this moment, that if by some miracle I ever have children, I will hug them, and hug them often. What a simple, but life-changing gesture.

In hockey, nearly everyone plays with a partner. The offense forward line is made up of a left wing, a center, and a right wing. The defense skates in pairs. Only the goalie is alone and he’s always weird. Always. Kenny Simms, who graduated last year, was one of the greatest goalies at Briar and probably the reason we won three Frozen Fours in a row, but that guy had the strangest fucking habits. He talked to himself more than he talked to anyone else, sat in the back of the bus, preferred to eat alone. On the rare occasion that he came out with us, he’d argue the entire time. I once got into it with him over whether there was too much technology available to children. We argued about that topic for the entire three hours we were knocking back beers at the bar. Sabrina reminds me of Simms.

Because family looks different for everyone. Sometimes it’s not the family you’re born into, but the one you build. The one you work for. And this is mine.

I keep scrolling and come across a book titled “Mighty Pucks.” I read the first sentence of the description and discover it is a romance, but it’s about a professional hockey player… so how bad could it be?

This is a sport where attack and defense that uses fists. Opponents punch at each other and block the punches. The goal is to knock out your opponent. Typically, those who engage in boxing are of equal weights and skill levels.

I realize… she's hugging me. An affectionate, comfortable feeling envelops me. This is the hug I’ve waited for all my life. Right here, with this girl. A hug that makes up for a lifetime of not being held, not being loved, not being enough. This is the hug to end all hugs. But I definitely want more hugs in the future, and only from this woman. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough hugs after this. I decide right in this moment, that if by some miracle I ever have children, I will hug them, and hug them often. What a simple, but life-changing gesture. Kissing is great… epic… amazing. But hugs are severely underrated.

If the player who has the ball in the air does not lower the ball to the ground before the opponent is within marking distance, or does not attempt to go around the opponent, the foul is on the air dribbler for dangerous play. Officials should not be waiting to see if the air dribbler “runs into a defender.” When the opponent has established a proper defensive position and the air dribbler has approached within marking distance, the air dribbler has an obligation to either go around the opponent or put the ball to the ground. There is no requirement that a defensive player who has established position on the field play a ball in the air within “marking distance.

reading books, watching shows, even practicing wasn’t like the real thing. And it bothered her when people tried to pretend it was. Go watch all the hockey games on TV that you can feast your eyes on. Read every book on strategy, stick-handling, hitting, defense, everything you can possibly find. Now go step on the ice. Do you feel ready? You’re good to play in your first game?

Defensive coverage is about anticipation, and offensive effectiveness is essentially the art of surprise.

In this instance, she’d not heard him count. He’d not hit a wall, unless the brick-headed stubbornness of Dmitri’s face counted. Thwack! “Yay.” Yes, that was her cheering for her Pookie aloud. Since it seemed he hadn’t heard, she said it louder, yodeled it as a matter of fact. “You get him, Pookie. Show him who’s the biggest, baddest pussy around.” Leo turned his head at that, narrowing his blue gaze on her. Totally annoyed. Totally adrenalized. Totally hot. “Vex!” How sexy her nickname sounded when he growled it. She could tell he totally dug the encouragement. She waggled her fingers at him and meant to say, “You’re welcome,” but instead shouted, “Behind you!” During that moment of inattention— which really Leo should have known better than to indulge in— Dmitri threw a mighty hook. Had she mentioned just how sigh-worthy big her Pookie was? The perfectly aimed blow hit Leo in the jaw, and the force snapped his head to the side. But it certainly didn’t fell him. Not even close. On the contrary, the punch brought the predator in him alive. As he rotated his jaw, Leo’s gaze flicked her way, his eyes lit with a wildness, his lip quirked, almost in amusement, and then he acted. His fist retaliated then his elbow, snapping Dmitri in the nose. Any other man, even shifter, might have quickly succumbed, but the Russian Siberian tiger was more than a match for the hybrid lion/ tiger. Put them in a ring and they’d have brought in a fortune. They certainly put on a good show. Blood trailed from Dmitri’s lip from where Leo’s fist struck him. However, that didn’t stop the Russian from giving as good as he got. Size-wise, Leo held a slight edge, but what Dmitri lacked in girth, he made up for in skill. Even if Meena wasn’t interested in marrying him, it didn’t mean she couldn’t admire the grace of Dmitri’s movement and his uncanny intuition when it came to dodging blows. Leo wasn’t too shabby either. While he’d obviously not grown up on the mean streets of Russia, he knew how to throw a punch, wrestle a man, and look totally hot in defense of his woman. Sigh. A man coming to her rescue. Just like one of those romance novels Teena likes to read. Luna sidled up alongside her. “What did you do this time?” Why did everyone assume it was her fault? “I didn’t do anything.” Luna snorted. “Sure you didn’t. And it also wasn’t you who put Kool-Aid in Arik’s mom’s shampoo bottle and turned her hair pink at the family picnic a few years ago.” “I thought the short spikes she sported after she got it shaved looked awesome.” “Never said the outcome wasn’t worth it. Just like I’m totally intrigued about what’s happening here. That is Leo laying a smackdown on that Russian diplomat, right? Since I highly doubt they’re sparring over who makes the better vodka or who deserved the gold medal in hockey at the last winter Olympics, then that leaves only one other possibility.” Luna fixed her with a gaze. “This is your fault.” Meena’s shoulders hunched. “Okay, so maybe I’m a teensy tiny bit responsible. Like maybe I made sure my ex-fiancé and current fiancé got to meet.” “Duh. I already knew about that part. What I’m talking about is, how the hell did you get Leo to lose his shit? I mean when he gets his serious on, you couldn’t melt an ice cube in his mouth. Leo never loses control because to lose control is to lose one’s way, or some such bullshit. He’s always spouting these funny little sayings in the hopes of curbing our wild tendencies.” Pookie had the cutest personality. “What can I say?” Meena shrugged. “I guess he got jealous. Totally normal, given we’re soul mates.

But back to air hockey. I swear, I’d never looked at her like that. Sure, we teased and goofed around and drove one another nuts. But I saw her as a sister. I was protective, I was defensive, and I was completely fucked when she grew up and became a woman.

HockeyGuy69: The bath kicked my ass. How do women take those all the time? HorrorHarper: In our defense, we're always exhausted because we have to deal with men. We're used to it.

No, if he was really into someone, he’d be all, this is my woman. No one touches her.

He can’t even tell the twins apart.” In his defense, it’s hard. “Kind of goes with the whole being identical thing, right?” “I can tell them apart. Emmett is the quiet one.” There’s a quiet one?

I sigh. “We kinda got into another fight.” She rolls her eyes. “Now what?” “Same shit, different shovel. His trust issues are out of control. Telling me I’m flirting when—I swear, Roni—I’m just talking to people!” “Are you sure? You know I have your back, but sometimes you can come off a little flirty . . .” What? “How?!” “Don’t get defensive! It’s a tone thing. I know you don’t mean anything by it, but maybe the men you speak to don’t. I dunno, forget it. I’m probably wrong.

Focus on what you can do in the situation. Not what you can’t control. Love is risky, Mitch. You can’t make someone stay. But you can put in the work, and you can communicate with her.

Everyone leaves, and she will too. She’ll figure out that I’m not worth the drama, that her life will be better off without me. She’ll find a nice guy and settle down in the suburbs where they’ll raise Noah and drink pina coladas and have a labradoodle. And I freaking hate that guy. I hate him with every fiber of my being, whoever he is. As much as I love punching people, there’s no one I’ve ever wanted to punch more than this imaginary man who’s going to marry the love of my life.

Only two months had passed since I had been traded to play defense for the Red Deer Rebels. In that time, I had learned to expect great hockey moves from Jason. I had watched him stickhandle while sliding on his knees. I had admired the way he hip-checked guys from out of nowhere. And I had been dazzled once to see him score with two guys wrapped around his shoulders. In my 25 games since joining this team in January, I had learned to expect nearly anything from #33.