Hockey Goalie Quotes

Why doesn’t the fattest man in the world become a hockey goalie?

Leon, no offense, but you don't exactly look like a hockey player." "I told 'em I was a goalie. That's where they put the guy who can't skate, right? Just like in baseball when they put the worst player at catcher.

Why are you so nervous?" Tate looked up to see Lucas giving him a dirty look. "This is easier that the regular season, we go out and have fun." "No, you get to have fun, I need t be super ninja goalie against every great forward in the league.

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.

She smoked like wet underwear on fire, swore like a slow hockey goalie, caroused like a cheerleader on spring break in Cancun, and experienced the people she chose to experience fully, men or women.

A long time ago inside a local ice rink, 15 year olds went to battle to win a game of hockey.  They played for themselves, for their teams, for their coaches, for their towns, and for their families. It was a 0-0 tie in the 2nd period.     Both goalies were outstanding.  But one appeared to be somewhere else. Thinking.  The shot came.    The antagonist wasn’t aiming to break the scoreless tie.  He was living up to his agreement with the other team’s coach.  A coach who wanted his son to be the team's goalie.     He didn’t want a new goalie that could take his team where they have never been.  The playoffs.  A goalie that could secure his team at the top.  The coach watched the shot he bought.      The goalie could have shifted, dodged out of the way, but he was paralyzed.  He dropped to the ice when the puck struck his unprotected neck.     The player skated over to examine the goalie. He had accomplished his task.    And with the money he earned, he can buy the bicycle he always wanted.     The goalie’s father was standing amongst the other parents.  He was enraged that his son didn’t make the save.     He felt the hard work he put into his boy slowly fade, and quickly die out.  He knew how good his son was, and would be.  He knew the puck struck because the goalie let it.  He did not know why.   I groaned as the puck hit me in the arm.  I had pads, but pads can only soften the blow. I squeezed my arm.     My father stood and watched.     My friend fired another shot that whacked me in the throat, knocking me down.  I felt dizzy.      It was frigid on the pond in winter.     This is where I learned to play hockey.  This is also where I learned it was painful to be a goaltender.  I got up slowly, glowering at him.  My friend was perplexed at my tenacity.     “This time, stay down!” And then he took the hardest slap shot I have ever encountered.     The puck tore through the icy air at incredible speed right into my face.     My glove rapidly came up and snatched it right before it would shatter my jaw.  I took my glove off and reached for the puck inside.     I swung my arm and pitched it as fiercely as I could at my friend.     Next time we play, I should wear my mask and he should wear a little more cover than a hat.  I turned towards my father.  He was smiling.  That was rare.     I was relieved to know that I was getting better and he knew it.  The ice cracked open and I dropped through…      The goalie was alone at the hospital.  He got up and opened the curtains the nurse keeps closing at night so he could see through the clear wall.     He eyed out the window and there was nothing interesting except a lonely little tree.  He noticed the way the moonlight shined off the grass and radiated everything else.  But not the tree.  The tree was as colourless as the sky.     But the sky had lots of bright little glowing stars.  What did the tree have?  He went back to his bed and dozed off before he could answer his own question.   Nobody came to visit him at the hospital but his mother.     His father was at home and upset that his son is no longer on the team.  The goalie spot was seized by the team’s original goalie, the coach’s son.     The goalie’s entire life had been hockey.  He played every day as his father observed.  He really wanted a regular father, whatever that was.  A father that cares about him and not about hockey.  The goalie did like hockey, but it was a game.         A sport just like other sports, only there’s an ice surface to play on.  But he did not love hockey.     It was just something he became very good at, with plenty of practice and bruises.     He was silent in his new team’s locker room, so he didn’t assume anyone would come and see how he was doing.

Nothing beats a major league mound, a ten-inch-high Kilimanjaro that few get to climb. Nobody in team sports commands a game like the pitcher. He dictates the pace and controls the tempo. A goalie in hockey or soccer can win a game with superior reaction. A pitcher prevents action. There is great power in that. Earlier

What he really had was a team of misfits captained by a goalie with anger-management issues and a facial piercing, coached by the man who ended Max’s professional hockey career, and owned and managed by a sleazy asshole who was going to use that for publicity.

Thankfully, I feel like I’m starting to understand the rules of hockey. I know I’m missing a lot but I’m getting the basics figured out. Like - the puck goes in the net, the crowd freaks out. Goalie stops the puck, the crowd freaks out. The players do pretty much anything, the crowd freaks out. I know that goalie helmets are cool, but I have no idea what offside means. I think it’s bad. And apparently the term icing does not refer to the delicious stuff you put on a cake.

The early participants also wore very modest equipment, making them look much lighter than today’s gladiators. Goalies relied on mere cricket pads to cover their shins. The protective gear of the others would be little more than thick padding to cover the more vulnerable parts of the body. Yet neither the players’ heads nor the goalkeepers’ faces were apparently considered vulnerable.

My goalie is hurt. Mars is hurt. Rule number fucking one in hockey? Never touch the goalie.

I know you’re just trying to mock me right now, but let me say, you’re really fucking cute when you pout at me like that. But I’m going to need you to confirm for me that you know that there isn’t a ball in hockey. I mean, I’m the goalie, so I don’t technically chase anyone, but if we could start with the ball thing first that’d be great.

Rule number one of hockey: don’t fuck with the goalie. And it’s nice to know this new team has my back. I’m back on my skates when Alexi palms the back of my helmet with his gloved hand.

Jack was confident that this year would be different. His sister was a goalie. He was a center. They both could be great players in their own way, and he intended to prove it.

Brad glanced from his locker to find the large form of his friend and hockey teammate Trey Arenson looming over him. Trey, whose two hundred pounds of hard muscle were spread over an imposing six-foot, two-nch frame, looked more like a linebacker than a goalie, but his build made him nothing short of an iron wall in the nets.

Jason was still on the blue eye, grabbing at the nylon belt that held up his hockey pants. Great. Two guys around us and swooping down on our goalie, and Jason is still undressing.

You see, goalies are different from other hockey players. We never cheer against each other. Why? Only goalies truly know what it’s like to be a goalie. Because you’re the last player between the puck and the net, the blame always falls on you when the other team scores a goal.

I know is that I’ve heard my dad talk about goalies being a different type of athlete than your average hockey player.

Rule number fucking one in hockey? Never touch the goalie.

Goalies were complete psychopaths. Sure, they were limber as hell, but who willingly agreed to place their body in front of a one-hundred-mile-per-hour slap shot?