"There it is! #611 for Luc Robitaille! He has surpassed Bobby Hull's record! He is now the highest scoring left wing in NHL history! Congratulations, Lucky Luc."
Sighing, I press the mute button on the remote, ridding my ears of the excited squealing of the commentators as they marvel over how great I am. "That record stood for nearly 30 years!" "Luc Robitaille has assured his place in history here tonight with that goal." "It would be hard to imagine anyone surpassing him, another three years or so, and he'll be at 700." I knew this entire tape by heart, second by second, word for word. I remember everything about everything on it, every thought, every feeling that ran through my body through the course of every moment. One hundredth goal, 200th, 300th, 400th, 500th, 600th, 611th. It was a goal scoring montage, the highlights of my Hall-of-Fame career. There were only seven goals on this tape, but every one was a milestone. My entire career, summed up in 7 goals. That seems fitting somehow, especially right now. Because seven goals could very well be the final output of my career.
It's halfway through the season already, and my goal total reads seven. Seven goals. There have been times I've scored seven goals in a week. But this year, seven goals came in seven different games, weeks and months apart. I'm starting to think it's some OTHER Luc Robitaille with 627 goals. Some OTHER Luc Robitaille that broke a legend's long standing record. Some OTHER Luc Robitaille that could score seemingly at will, never going more than 9 games without a point. Actually, maybe my name isn't Luc Robitaille at all. Maybe I'm really Bob Jones, guy who couldn't score into an empty net standing a foot in front of it.
I don't know what has happened this year. I've done everything the same as I always have. I've got to the same spots on the ice, made the same plays that always worked, and nothing has come of it. Every shift I skate onto the ice thinking the same things that I always did. But unlike the past, every shift now ends in frustration, or confusion on how I missed such a glorious opportunity. It's really making me a bad person to be around. I've tired to stay positive and keep a smile on my face through it all, but sometimes it just becomes too much. Like yesterday. I think if I had scored on that breakway I wouldn't have been so bad. In the past, the puck would've easily wound up in the back of the net with just a simple wrist show. But this time, that same shot landed in the glove of Roman Turek, and I was left again to ask myself how the hell I missed such a golden chance.
I don't know what would be more frustrating, getting chances and not scoring or not getting chances at all. All I know is I'm losing my mind, and no one I talk to understands. My teammates have tried to talk to me about it, but all of their advice rings hallow to me. It's not that I don't value their opinions, or want to listen to them. It's just difficult for me to listen to someone giving advice on my "slump" after they went out and scored a hat trick, or finished with a 5-point night. I love my teammates, but none of them really get it. Those that understand about not scoring for 20 games have never felt the success I've been fortunate enough to have. And those that have, they've never went 20 games without scoring. It's a catch-22 situation for me as far as talking about this all goes. Maybe I should just stop trying to; no matter what I do, or who I talk to, I only get more upset. No one really understands this, or the way I'm feeling through all of this. Not my teammates, not my wife, not even my #611 stick.
This game used to come so easy to me, and now it's suddenly a struggle. I could score sometimes in the past without even realizing I had. But now...now I couldn't score unless I first shot the goalie. And believe me, that's something I've thought about. But until Easton makes my machine gun stick, I guess I'm stuck with this slump. I just want some damn goals, is that too much to ask for? I've only failed to score 30 three times in my career, and that was on shitty teams where we spent most of the game in the defensive zone. I'm on one of the best teams in the league now, playing with the best crop of players I ever have, and I've got nothing to show for it. I just want this feeling to go away, somehow or another. I don't really see that happening though. I can't even score on the goalies in practice, and I've lost all the confidence I once had. Even as I tried to hang onto it, it fled away, leaving me in the state I'm in now. I don't know what happened to Luc Robitaille, but he's gone. And me...I'm Bob Jones, class A jerk, and washed up has-been.
END
© 2003 Triple X
