Editor’s note: Examiner sports writer Bill Althaus was invited to take part in the Missouri Mavericks’ first adult fantasy camp. This is his first-person account of his experience.
When I heard that the Missouri Mavericks were going to offer fans an opportunity to be a Maverick for a week, I jumped at the chance to enroll.
Now, that the weeklong camp is over, I couldn’t be happier with my decision.
Sure, I’m sore in some areas of my body I didn’t realize got sore, and I embarrassed myself so many times I quit counting – but that’s what made the last five days so much fun.
I hadn’t been on ice skates since my family hit the ice – literally – at Crown Center 18 years ago, so I decided the safest bet would be working with the goaltenders for a week.
Charlie Effinger, the personable young goaltender who helped the Mavericks reach the playoffs last year, drove in from the St. Louis area to work with me and a couple of guys who knew what they were doing around the net.
“Charlie’s warm-up drill made me realize how horrible I am on the outside edge of the net,” fellow goaltender Troy Blank said. “Charlie was great. He took me out of my comfort zone and was really informative. And he always seemed like he was having a good time.”
Added 19-year-old Jacob Pope: “I want to be a goaltender for the Mavericks sometime in the future and this camp taught me how hard I’m going to have to work to reach that goal.
“I learned a lot, and had a lot of fun.”
Personally, I felt like if I made it through the week without breaking something, it would be a great success.
Effinger was an amazing coach, as he took the two veterans through a series of practice routines that demanded patience and concentration.
When I skated – and I use the word loosely – into the crease, he treated me with kid gloves. I didn’t want to fall backwards, and whack my head on the crossbar of the net and I didn’t want to do a face plant onto the ice.
I’m happy to report that I managed to avoid both of those painful experiences.
He had me crouch down and skate from side, to side, positioning my body in the direction of the oncoming skater.
I actually got the hang of it and felt a rush of adrenaline when I stepped into the crease for my first action.
With Effinger and many of the Mavericks players and staff offering encouragement, tapping their sticks and pounding on the glass, I actually made a couple of saves – after allowing the first shot on goal to glide between my skates into the back of the net.
I then made three straight saves, including a slick glove save that I’m proud of. Mavericks coach Scott Hillman skated by and quipped, “You’ve gone from zero percent to 75 percent. I want you here for the Making the Mavericks (free-agent) Camp.”
Thanks, Coach, but I think I’ll leave that one to the pros.
We worked through a series of game situations and actually played two games. You could see the eyes of the guys who knew what they were doing light up when I went into the net.
One shot screamed past my head and hit high on the glass behind the net.
“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to aim that high,” the apologetic camper said. “When I’m on the ice and I have the puck, I just see someone in goal – not you.”
Translated: I see a goaltender, not a schmuck who considers it a victory if he doesn’t crack his head open on the ice.
After my experience, I have a whole new respect for Effinger and every other goaltender on the planet. The gear they wear must weigh in at 20 or 30 pounds, and the first night Effinger had to “dress” me before practice.
As I kneeled in front of his locker, getting the proper instruction on how to lace the leg pads, I thought back to my first grade class at Hanthorn Elementary School.
A fellow student couldn’t tie his shoes, so Mrs. Mann, our teacher, tied them for him – scarring him for life.
I’m sure to this day, he hears the chants of, “Mrs. Mann had to tie your shoes, Mrs. Mann had to tie your shoes!” ringing in his ears.
Effinger had to show me how to put on the leg pads, the body gear, the gloves and my mask. I managed to get half dressed by myself the next night, but I still needed some coaching.
And I want to thank everyone for not making any “he can’t get dressed by himself” jokes, because I’m far too old to have to live with that kind of trauma the rest of my life.
The campers were an interesting lot, ranging from Sue Marske, a mom who had two sons who wrestled at Blue Springs South High School, and Shawn Larson, an off-ice official at Mavericks games, to Al and Jane Boeck, a husband-and-wife team who asked some of the most interesting questions in Hillman’s post-practice team meetings.
As Marske skated onto the ice for the first time, she turned to me and asked, “Do these pants make me look fat?”
It was the best line of the camp.
“I was born in St. Louis and I used to skate on the ponds when they froze over,” Marske said. “This camp gave me the chance to get back to skating, and I can’t believe how wonderful Coach Hillman and the players were.”
The Boecks echoed that sentiment.
“We see the players at all the games, and we get to talk to Scott occasionally,” Jane Boeck said, “but to see them here, in the locker room, and see how gentlemanly and polite they are is really amazing.
“We didn’t skate, because we didn’t want to kill ourselves, but I know we’ve enjoyed ourselves as much as any other camper by being in on the locker room sessions.”
Each night, Hillman shook things up, allowing us to practice many of the same routines he runs his team through during the season. We had video game study, chalk talks and simulated game-day, off-day and pre-game day sessions.
“I got this feeling of déjà vu when I walked in the locker room,” Effinger said, “because Hilly made it just like a day during the season. The campers got to experience everything – well, just about everything – we go through during the season. I don’t know how much fun they had, but I had a blast.”
Ditto for forward Brett Hammond, who led the team in scoring during their memorable playoff run.
“Coach was the best. I learned some things about him I didn’t know – from the stories he was telling the campers. This was my first time at a fantasy camp, and I hope I get asked back next year.”
Me too.
Hillman told me he will make this an annual event for Mavericks fans and he believes next year they might break it up into a session for advanced skaters and then a session for guys like me.
Every time you experience something like this, there is that one, defining moment that makes all the embarrassment and frustration worthwhile.
My moment came on the fourth night, when I walked into my locker and found a puck that had been wrapped in white tape.
Printed on the tape was “Bill Althaus’ First Glove Save, 7-14-10.” Effinger had given the glove-save puck to team equipment manager Andrew Dvorak, who made sure I had my own personal memento from a memorable week both on and off the ice.
When I saw that puck sitting on the top shelf of my locker, I got a little misty eyed. Then I thought, ‘What the heck – there’s no crying in hockey!”
I put on my gear – with a little help from Effinger – and skated out on the ice, ready to conquer the world.
