🥍 The Glory Days: A Former Goalie’s Perspective

By FAST HANDS | SLOW FEET There was a time when I was an athlete. A real athlete. The kind who practiced before sunrise, traveled for games, and willingly stood in front of shots that had no business being aimed at a human body. I played college lacrosse. Division III, to be exact. Which, for those unfamiliar, is basically the same as Division I, except nobody watched, nobody cared, and we had to wash our own practice gear. I was a goalie. Not because I wanted to be. Mostly because at some point during my childhood, a coach looked at me and thought, “That kid looks like he’d be willing to get hit with a hard rubber ball for absolutely no reason.” And he was right. Life Between the Pipes Being a goalie was a unique experience. While everyone else was running around scoring goals, throwing checks, and getting attention from the stands, I was standing in a six-foot square waiting for someone to try to take my head off. And I loved every second of it. There’s nothing quite like making a point-blank save, hearing your teammates lose their minds, and immediately launching an outlet pass 30 yards over someone’s head. Momentum is a funny thing. Some days you felt unbeatable. Other days, the ball looked like it was moving approximately 400 miles per hour. But that’s the beauty of playing goalie. Every shot was a challenge. Every save was a small victory. And every game was another opportunity to prove that standing in front of a rubber projectile was somehow a reasonable life decision. The Division III Experience People don’t understand the grind of Division III lacrosse. The early practices. The long bus rides. The questionable locker rooms. The occasional game played in front of 14 parents, three girlfriends, and a guy walking his dog. We weren’t playing for money. We weren’t playing for fame. We were playing because we loved the game. And because there was nothing better than competing alongside your teammates every weekend. Every DIII player has at least one story about how they almost played Division I. Mine is still developing. The Goalie Mentality Being a lacrosse goalie requires a special kind of personality. You voluntarily stand in front of a net while grown men launch projectiles at your body. Your teammates call you crazy. Your coaches tell you to stop flinching. And somehow, you convince yourself that diving toward a shot instead of away from it is a perfectly normal instinct. The best part? After making 17 saves, nobody remembers. But let one bounce shot go between your legs? That’s the one your teammates will bring up at your wedding. The Legend Grows With Age The beautiful thing about being a former college athlete is that your abilities improve dramatically after retirement. Every year, I get a little faster. My save percentage gets a little higher. And somehow, the shots get a little slower every time I get together with my old teammates. Funny how that works. Turns out my reflexes haven’t necessarily improved. The guys shooting on me are just getting older, too. Twenty years ago, those same guys were ripping corners. Now they’re stretching for 20 minutes before taking a shot and complaining about their backs afterward. At this point, I’m fairly certain I was an All-American. I just haven’t found the paperwork. I also distinctly remember making several saves that probably should have been featured on SportsCenter. Unfortunately, streaming wasn’t a thing when I was in college, so there’s absolutely no footage to verify any of my accomplishments. Now we’ve got flying cars, artificial intelligence, and the ability to livestream a fourth-grade lacrosse scrimmage from six different camera angles. But apparently, there’s no way to prove I was the greatest goalie to ever step foot on a Division III lacrosse field. You’ll just have to take my word for it. From the Crease to the Sideline These days, my lacrosse career consists mostly of standing on sidelines, criticizing referees, questioning coaching decisions, and explaining to anyone within earshot how the game was tougher back when I played. I can identify a bad defensive slide from 70 yards away. Could I execute that slide myself? Absolutely not. My knees make noises when I get out of my truck. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve also discovered that youth lacrosse parents are significantly more intense than most college coaches I ever played for. Nothing says “developmental sports” quite like a grown man losing his mind over a missed slash call in a game involving 11-year-olds. But that’s a topic for another day. Final Thoughts Do I miss playing? Absolutely. Do I miss getting hit in the thighs with lacrosse balls in 35-degree weather? Not particularly. Would I suit up again? Without hesitation. Would I survive warmups? Highly questionable. But somewhere deep inside this aging body is still a Division III goalie who believes he could step back into the crease tomorrow and steal a game. Reality suggests otherwise. Fortunately, reality has never been particularly important when discussing the glory days. FAST HANDS | SLOW FEET Former DIII Goalie. Current Sideline Expert. Unverified Legend.