Erik the Tank in Fiction, Facts & Fun

“Dude! No way! Erik Kunkle is going out for Pee Wee Hockey,” the 10-year-old rink rat spoke in a whisper. “Unreal. Didn’t he swear to never play a team sport again,” was the hushed reply from his friend. “Guess he changed his mind or maybe his dad changed it for him. My mom went to high school with him, says he was a total jock,” was the first boys knowing reply. “Don’t give them a second thought sweetie,” Erik’s mother soothed. “Some people are just silly.” Erik just remained silent, thinking that they weren’t too far off target. His father had been a star athlete in school and Erik couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. Standing 4’ 8” and weighing 105 lbs at the ripe old age of 11 was not something that caused a lot of pride. Not that it would stop him from trying to please his dad by trying to play sports. Baseball and football might not have worked out quite as well as he would have liked but hockey was going to be different. “You don’t have to do this honey. Your father will love you just as much if you don’t play sports,” his mother chirped. He didn’t buy it for one minute. He still wasn’t sure if his father had recovered from Little League Season. His coach had been a nice man but was at a loss when it came to Erik. He took one look at his build and said that he had the making of an all-star catcher. That lasted until the first game when Erik had his glove knocked to first base twice. He also took a foul tip to the cup and had pitch get stuck under the backstop. After The catching fiasco Erik made stops at second and third base during the next few games without much success. He got in front of the ball just fine but getting it into his glove was almost as hard as getting it back out. After that he watched the grass grow in right field for the minimum number innings the league said he had to play. The coach taught him to keep score and told him stories that always started with “back in the day”. His dad stopped coming to games before the season ended. Depending on your point of view, football was both better and worse. His mother was very happy that his uniform stayed so clean. Sadly, that was because there was no “minimum play” rule for the league. After he snapped the ball over the quarterback’s head 3 times in a row the coach decided that he wasn’t cut out to be a center. Being the slowest and shortest person on the team meant that he got to learn a whole new set of ‘back in the day” stories. Erik thought it was funny how different sports tended to have the same stories. His dad barely made it to mid-season before he stopped going to games. “Any prior hockey experience,” the question, jolting Erik back to the present. “No sir but I can skate pretty well,” was Erik’s mumbled reply. “And that means what exactly,” was the league official’s skeptical reply. “Crossovers, jumps, tight turns and backwards skating mostly sir,” Erik outlined. “Welcome to team #4 and remember to have fun,” was the grinning reply. It started at the first practice and continued to amaze Erik right up to the day of their first game. He wasn’t the worst player on the team and when it came to skating backwards he was one of the best. Coach Len of team #4, the Battling Bullfrogs, pronounced Erik a defenseman after the first practice and by the third practice he was one of the main penalty killers. Who would have thought that Erik’s talent for being in the way would be put to good use as a defenseman? Erik’s mom, who had attended every practice as if it were a religious event, would not let Erik’s father miss the first game. In a flash the puck was dropped and the other team came straight into the Bullfrogs end of the ice. The Winger carrying the puck went to take a shot only to have the puck knocked away by Erik. Another player on the opposing team grabbed the puck and let a shot go only to have it bounce off of Erik’s shin guard. “That’s it Tank! Way to block up the shooting lane,” boomed a voice from the stands behind Mr. Kunkle. “Tank,” mumbled a puzzled Mr. Kunkle. He turned to face the Voice, only to find it belonged to a tiny woman who was grinning from ear to ear. “You don’t know do you,” she said with a smirk. “Erik is called Tank by the other players on the team. They love the way pucks and players just bounce off of him. That low center of gravity and heavy weight mean he is pretty hard to move,” she spat out words like a machine gun. Erik’s first shift had ended and he was able to listen in on the conversation from the bench. He missed the rest of what was said because he went back out on the ice. In the blink of an eye it happened. Two of the Bullfrog forwards collided at center ice and went down. The other Bullfrog defenseman tripped over his stick trying to get turned around as the other team came down ice with the puck three against one. Erik did what he did best, he skated backwards and got in the way. Then he saw the puck carrier look at another player. Erik knew he was going to pass the puck. Just as the pass left his stick Erik skated between the two players. “THUNK!” The puck was on Erik’s stick. Without stopping to think he knocked the puck back out of the Bullfrog end of the ice and headed for the bench. It was during the line change that he heard his dad in the stands. “Did you see what my boy Tank just did? That was awesome,” bellowed Mr. Kunkle, sounding like a deranged moose. Guess there is a sport for everyone Erik mused as he sat waiting happily for his next shift.