At a Minnesota Wild hockey game, on Thursday, December 19, 2002, between the second and third periods, in front of 18,000 fans, I stood behind the red line. There were 20 pucks laid out in front of me. If I shot 15 of those pucks into the net within 20 seconds I would win a brand new 2003, Pontiac Vibe car. I was fifty years old at the time.
I won the tickets to the game at an event put on by FSN at Joe Sensors Bar in Bloomington. All three of the winners of Wild Hockey tickets at that event were asked to meet before then game in a room at the Xcel Energy Center. There they had us draw straws. The person who drew the short straw, me, got to shoot for a car.
I was asked to sign a waiver saying I understood they were not liable if I fell on the ice and cracked open my head. I also signed a form stating I was not, nor had I ever been, a professional hockey player either at the National Hockey League level or the minor league level.
I last played hockey 33 years earlier. Pond squad hockey at Ramsey High School in Roseville, MN. I could skate but my stick handling and shooting were terrible. Between last playing hockey in high school and when I shot pucks for a car, I had maybe held a hockey stick in my hands a handful of times and maybe had shot an actual hockey puck two or three times.
With ten minutes left in the second period, I was instructed to meet a person down by the Zamboni. They had a selection of about five or six hockey sticks for me to choose from. I found one that felt good in my hands.
He explained to me that shooting twenty pucks in twenty seconds meant that I could not wait for the puck to reach the net before I shot the next puck. He told me to shoot the puck then shoot the next puck right away. He would stand behind me and tell me if the puck was on net or going right or left.
The announcer explained the rules to the crowd. If I got 15 pucks in the net in 20 seconds I would win the brand new 2003 Pontiac Vibe. He read a short promo for how great the car was. Then he explained that if I got ten pucks in the net I would win $500 dollars. If I got five pucks in the net I would win $50. The crowd roared. He asked if I was ready in a very excited tone. I nodded. Then asked the crowd to count down with him. Five, four, three, two, one. Go.
I shot the first puck hard but it barely made it to the net. The guy behind me said, “don’t watch it, shoot the next puck harder and to the right”. I shot the second puck harder and I almost fell. It took a split second to catch my balance. The guy behind me said stop watching the puck, you were a little left. I can’t swear to it but I think I got the third puck in the net.
By the end of the 20 seconds, I managed to shoot about 15 of the 20 pucks. Only three found their way into the net. The announcer implored the crowd to applaud me. The crowd gave me a polite but subdued round of applause. As we walked off the ice the maintenance guy said, “I told you not to watch the pucks, you should have trusted me”.
The Minnesota Wild (2) lost that game to the New York Islanders (4) that night. A couple of days later I got an envelope in the mail from the Minnesota Wild with a picture of me on the red line shooting and a picture of the car I did not win.
I wrote up a little note about the experience and mounted it in a frame along with the two pictures and a Minnesota Wild logo. That frame sat on a bookcase in the basement for many years. I do not remember when it was taken off that bookcase and put in the box where I found it earlier this afternoon.
We have been social distancing for about three weeks now. A couple of days ago, I went to the basement to see if I could fix a hot water circulation pump that has not worked for several years. The electrical outlet it was originally plugged into had been removed when we removed the paneling last year. So to see if it would work, I strung an extension cord to the nearest outlet.
Linda had asked me to move the extension cord in the basement before one of us broke our necks tripping over it. On the third request, I reluctantly went downstairs pounding my feet like a three-year-old being sent down to pick up their toys.
So dear Linda, the answer to the question as to why I didn’t take the extra minute to put the extension cord where I should’ve put it in the first place is: By putting the extension cord over the boxes and being lovingly reminded to move the extension cord, allowed me to see the pictures and remember being very nervous standing in front of 18,000 people shooting hockey pucks for a car.
The closer you look the more you will see.