bhurst99

I'm not a religious person, but last night I prayed.

I got down on my hands and knees and I broke down crying and prayed.

If my friends saw me, the supposedly tough Bryan Hurst, down there on the carpet praying I don't know what they would have said.

But I woke up at 3 am in a cold sweat. I was thinking, "What am I going to do after tomorrow. This is all I have ever known."

So I got down and prayed that tomorrow it won't come to an end.

Dad says there's more to life than hockey. I know he's right, but it's all I know.

Tomorrow's the NHL entry draft and this is my last chance to get drafted. But nobody drafts 19-year old players. Who is going to draft a centre who scored 20 goals and 65 assists for the worst team in the Ontario Hockey League, the Sudbury Wolves, as an over-age player?

No one that's who.

I'm never going to be a doctor or a lawyer or any profession like that. I've never been a good student. I barely passed high school.

Getting up at 5 am in the morning to be at the rink for 6 am practise, eight-hour bus trips across Ontario and locker rooms so dirty you wouldn't allow your pet in them -- that's all I've ever known.

And I love it.

But is it over?

I can't go back to junior. My eligibility is up. Either I get drafted and hope to make it with an American Hockey League team or I'm toast.

I heard Canadian Tire is hiring maybe I can get a job there. I think it pays $12.50 an hour. That's not bad for a 19-year old.

A scout told me there's always a chance I could get taken in a late round based on what I did two seasons ago. All I need is a chance. My knee felt a lot better last season. It felt perfect.

I hate thinking about my stupid right knee. I keep thinking, "What if I had gotten hit, what if I hadn't twisted the wrong way? What if I hadn't blown my ACL?"

That hit cost me nearly 11 months of playing hockey. I was off to a great start: 13 goals and 30 assists in 29 games. I was going to get drafted in the third or fourth round no doubt about it.

Everyone wants to draft an 18-year old playmaker with that kind of scoring ability. But no one wants a broken 18-year old with a bad knee. No one drafted me in July 2007.

Last year was difficult after all the rehabilitation. You can't expect to miss that much time on the ice and put up great numbers. I mean 85 points isn't terrible. But when you're playing against teenagers 16-to-18 years old you need to score 100 points. You need to dominate and I didn't dominate.

Is my hockey dream over before it barely had a chance to begin?

I'm not even going to watch the draft. They don't telecast the last few rounds anyway. Maybe I'll take a peak at the draft web site.

Until then, I might just pray a little bit more.

bhurst99

Some of you may have seen this dynasty in other forums. I've decided to post it here as well. I hope you enjoy it.

bhurst99

June 20, 2008

I've got a chance.

It's the chance based on a phone call from a fool. But it's better than nothing.

I got a call on my cell from Pete Satt today. Satt is a hockey agent, one of those guys who hangs around midget tournaments all across Canada, pumping up egos, hoping to land a client who will be the next Big Thing.

Like most agents he's mostly all bluster -- promising things he couldn't possibly deliver. I've known him since I met him at a tournament in Oshawa when I was 15. He wears these impossibly loud suit jackets with pants that never match, like he's a reject from a 1970's action flick.

He's got a handful of clients who are NHL players. No one special but that's not surprising. It's a crowded, ruthless field. I've seen junior players go through three agents in a season and remember they haven't even signed a contract yet.

I mean some players have had visits at home from Bobby Orr, who is an agent now. Who are you going to listen to: Some guy who has gone to law school or a Hall of Fame legend? It's no contest. Parents fall to their knees when Orr visits.

I'll give Satt credit for a couple of things. He works tirelessly. He is always on the phone. He's always talking; he knows everyone in hockey.

There was this game in Kingston two years ago when about 300 people showed up because there was a huge snowstorm. Satt was one of those people. He was sitting up high in the stands but you could hear him from the bench talking to people on his cell phone. Never stopped talking.

The problem is he almost always mixes up his facts. He's kind of an absent-minded type. He forgets dates, player's names and even events. He's terrible remembering first names. He'll simply call a player sport or kid, simply because he can't remember. It's very strange.

Anyway, this morning he calls me at like 8 am. He had probably talked to about 40 players like me -- hopeful late round picks -- by that time in the day.

"Hey, Hurst, it's me Satt. I got some great news," Satt said.

"What's up, Mr. Satt?" I asked, barely awake.

"I've been talking to a ton of NHL guys -- I can't tell you who you understand -- but they're saying teams are afraid of drafting Russians this year because the NHL has no transfer agreement with Russia. They're scared like an a cat in a room of rocking chairs. They figure if they draft a Ruskie, they won't be able to sign him and get him out of the country."

"What does that have to do with me," I asked

"Don't you understand? If teams don't draft the 20 are so Russians that are usually taken in the draft, that means they'll be more chance they'll take North American kids. Isn't that great? You got a chance, kid."

"I guess so."

"I've heard a mid-western team might be interested in you."

"WHAT! What team? Who told you that?"

"I can't tell you. You know what I honestly can't remember the team. I think it might have been St. Louis or Colorado or one of those places."

"Are you sure they said Bryan Hurst? Are you sure?"

"I think so ... I think it was you. I think they said Hurst or Hurtz or maybe it was Hirshey. Anyway I gotta a run. Remember if you're drafted who told you first. See ya."

"Wait-"

But it was too late he had hung up. You didn't phone Satt back. It was useless, the phone was constantly busy.

So I've got a chance. The Entry Draft is going to be the longest day of my life.

RobertLidstroem

Very good story there Interresting approache!

__________________

bhurst99

Thanks for reading! It's always nice to know someone is following.

LeClairBHZ

Man this is absolutely thrilling! Whatever you do, DON`T stop writing about this. You got talent and I really enjoy reading it.
At first I thought it was a story from true life.
Keep up the good work!

bhurst99

June 21, 2008

What a terrible, horrific first impression! The last call I'll ever get on that cell phone!

When dad told to go to the store today to get my mind off the NHL draft, I decided to contact Pete Satt on my cell. He's the agent who phoned me a couple days ago and told me an unnamed team was interested in me, or at least someone with a similar name.

Typical Satt. Talk first, facts second.

So I phoned him as I walked to the store. I didn't get through the first couple of times but then it rang and he picked it up.

"Hey, Satt, it's Bryan. Bryan Hurst. How's the draft going? Are you having fun in Ottawa?" I asked. I didn't want to be a jerk and ask him about me right away.

"No fun, sport. It's all work today," Satt said.

"Well, I hate to bug you but I'm just wondering if you've heard any scuttlebutt about me."

"I think a western team in Canada might be interested in you," he said.

"That's strange. A few days ago you said a mid-western team in the States was interested me."

"Bryan, I gotta run. Let me check into it and I'll phone you back. See ya."

Satt hung up. Clearly, he was lying. There was no team interested in me. I sat down on a park bench. I couldn't walk to the store, I thought I was going to vomit right there. He was lying. I kept repeating the words in my mind. I must have sat there for 30 minutes. The fifth and maybe the sixth round of the draft must be over by now.

My phone rang. It was Satt.

"Yeah, Hirshey, I talked to a couple of scouts and they say it's a mid-Western team that's interested in you not Canada."

"Damn it, Satt, my name is Hurst. H-U-R-S-T. Not Hirshey. Are they talking about me or Ryan Hirshey?" Hirshey was a rough and tumble defenseman with the Kamloops Blazers of the Western Hockey League.

"Sorry, I'll clarify that," Satt said. "Call you right back."

Satt hung up again. He's got to be the worst agent ever. I wouldn't have even phoned him in the first place but he knows everyone in NHL circles.

Satt phoned back.

"It was Hirshey not Hurst. Sorry, kid. But I've heard someone from the Sudbury Wolves might get taken. Wasn't that your team?" Yes, it was my team.

"Who is going to get taken from Sudbury, Satt? Who?"

"Gotta run, kid. Let me phone you right back. It's insane here in Ottawa. It's draft day, you know. Phone you right back."

I vowed right there to kill Pete Satt. I was going to strangle his fat neck. I was going to punch him in that fat belly until he screamed like a pig heading into the slaughterhouse.

The phone rang again. Screw Satt. We was going to hear how I felt.

"You are the worst, stupidest, dumbest --"

"Whoa, Bryan. You sound like one of the columnists writing about me in the Chicago Tribune"

That wasn't Satt's voice.

"This is Dale Tallon. I'm the General Manager of the Chicago Blackhawks and I just wanted to let you know we have selected you with the 240th pick of the NHL entry draft. Welcome aboard."

"Jesus, Mr. Tallon, I'm sorry."

He laughed. "I just hope you're that abrasive on the ice. We'll be in touch over the next couple of days. Bye."

I threw my cell phone high in the air and screamed. "I got drafted! I got drafted."

I jumped as high as an Olympic pole vaulter I started to run home and behind me I heard the crash of my cell phone hit the pavement. It busted into a hundred pieces.

Who cares? This is the best day of my life!

bhurst99

June 29, 2008

I have been Chicago Blackhawks property for a week and I have to admit I'm already a little concerned.

I found out almost by accident yesterday that I have been assigned directly to the Rockford, Illinois IceHogs of the American Hockey League. Even though I know I had no chance of making the Blackhawks, I hoped I could get an invite to the Blackhawks training camp because it would have been a great experience. I would have loved to meet Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews.

But apparently that's not going to happen. I'm not surprised because I wasn't drafted until the eighth round.

What did shock me was that no one phoned me after the initial phone call telling me I had been drafted. No one contacted me to tell me where I was going. It was like they drafted me and then forgot about me a week later.

I'll be honest: I know nothing about Rockford. I've never even been to Illinois.

There's only one thing I know less about than Rockford and that's an IceHog. What in the world is an Icehog? Why is it one word and not two words?

I did some reseach on the internet about the city and the team since that's where I expected I would be headed, That's when I saw my name on their roster.

It's only Rockford's second season in the league. The IceHogs was one of the better teams in the league last season with 44 wins, 26 losses and 98 points. They lost in the second round of the AHL playoffs in seven games to the Chicago Wolves.

When I saw that I was assigned there, I decided to play it cool and see if someone was going to phone me. I figured maybe they posted the information on the web site quickly and we're going to follow it up that day.

But the day passed and no one phoned. Dad suggested I contact the Rockport public relations department. That sound like a pretty good idea so I phoned them.

"Hello, IceHogs!" said a cheery voice.

"Hi, my name is Bryan Hurst." I waited to see if she would recognize the name.

"How can I help you?"

"Well, er, I am on your roster that appears on the internet.

The woman on the other end laughed. "I think you want to speak with the IceHogs general manager Tom Rowe. I'll put you through."

I waited for about 30 seconds and listened to some recorded information about the IceHogs season ticket packages.

"Bryan, it's Tom Rowe. We would have contacted you earlier but we have been waiting for your agent to contact us."

"Well, see, I don't have an agent yet, Mr. Rowe," I said. "I wasn't even sure I was going to be drafted."

"That's a good one," he laughed. "No agent! Bill Wirtz would have loved you."

I didn't realize it until my dad told me later but Bill Wirtz was the Blackhawks' notoriously tight-fisted owner before he died last year.

"We expect rookies to report on Aug. 1 to sit down with our strength and conditioning coach. You should come down here in July and start looking at apartments. We can help you with that. In the meantime, you should probably get some independent legal advice about the contact we're going to offer you."

"Before you get too excited, Bryan. Don't expect too much more than the minimum AHL salary of $30,000. I gotta run. Let us know who is representing you."

It was clear I wasn't exactly a priority for this organization.

bhurst99

July 18, 2008

How is it I am sitting here seriously thinking about putting my future in the hands of a man I thought I was an idiot less than three weeks ago?

Since I was drafted at the end of June by the Chicago Blackhawks in the eighth round, Pete Satt, an agent, has phoned me every second day, offering advice on what I can expect as a minor leaguer with the American Hockey League's Rockford IceHogs.

That's the same Pete Satt who seemed to have trouble remembering my name on the
day I was drafted.

But if Satt is one thing, it is that he is persistent. I also haven't forgotten that in the days leading up to the draft he was the only agent who called me and the only agent who was willing to provide me with information.

My dad wanted to make sure someone looked over the contract that was being offered by Chicago. It was what is called a two-way contract offering the NHL minimum of $500,000 if I played in the NHL and $35,000 -- just above the $30,000 American Hockey League minimum -- playing for the IceHogs.

I mentioned it to Satt during one of his phone calls and he asked if he could give a presentation at my house with my family present. I figured I didn't need an agent to negotiate the deal since I was willing to sign the contact but what did I have to lose if I listened to Satt? I figured I might learn something before we kicked Satt out of the house.

Satt arrived the next day and it turns out I have seriously underestimated him.

He came to the house with a DVD that started with highlights of my junior career and morphed into a presentation of the NHL collective bargaining agreement and off-ice things I had to be aware of it.

Satt said he thought that he could get me a small increase in the AHL salary the Blackhawks were offering if he was my agent. He said as my agent he would charge five per cent as his fee and seven per cent if I wanted him to manage all my financial affairs.

I figured any agent could probably get me a slight increase in salary.

But Satt had more. He sat at our kitchen table and told us he put on a series of seminars for his clients during the course of the year. These were seminars that little to do with the game of hockey.

There were seminars on avoiding drug and alcohol abuse. He started telling stories about how many players careers had been derailed by alcohol. I had seen that problem first hand in the Ontario Hockey League but I wasn't concerned.

My dad, however, was listening attentively like a patient in a doctor's office. He thought it was a terrific idea.

There were seminars on women. I laughed at that one; I knew all about puck bunnies. But Satt insisted there were women out there who I had to be very wary about it. That there were players out there who were financially destroyed from paying child support.

"That's a great idea," said my sister. "You've got to be very careful." Where did that come from I wondered as my sister, pointed her finger in my direction. What kind of girls did my sister know?

There were seminars on preparing for a life after hockey.

"I just want to play hockey," I told Satt. "Everything else will take care of itself."

That's when mom spoke.

"You need to think about your future if hockey doesn't work out," she said. "I don't want you destitute."

Satt had done it. He had won over my family and I have to say even I was impressed by the detail in his presentation.

Satt said I only had to have him as an agent as long as I wanted. That he would take his fee from the bonus he would negotiate and that I could fire him at any point before my next contract. It sounded like a no-lose situation.

Satt left an agency agreement at my home and encouraged me to have a lawyer look over it before I left for Rockford in two days. I said I would but it was clear when he left our home that Satt, the same man I wanted to kill three weeks ago, was going to be my agent.

JanErsa

Agree! This is very well written and makes you keep on reading. Keep it up!

bhurst99

Thanks!

star king3

HURSTY! IM HERE lol.

bhurst99

Good to see you aboard!

bhurst99

Aug. 1, 2008

I don't know whether I should be amazed or alarmed.

I met today with Rockford IceHogs general manager Tom Rowe. He invited me into his office to discuss his goals for the upcoming season.

I went into his office this morning at 8:30 am, still a little sleepy. It has been a long two weeks of finding an apartment, moving and meetings with assistant coaches.

The office is not much to look at. Above Rowe's desk there's a picture taken inside the sold-out MetroCentre arena of opening night last season -- Rockford's first in the American Hockey League. It sits above a desk that is cluttered with newspapers, hockey magazines and hand-written notes. There is a plant in the corner that looks like it hasn't been watered since the spring. The branches are leaning over the faded green pot, looking like they want to escape.

I sit in one of the two metal chairs in front of the desk and I brush my hand and feel something soft beneath the arm rest. I feel it's texture and realize it's somebody's discarded gum stuck there.

"You have potential," Rowe starts. "But you've got to work hard. This isn't the Ontario Hockey League. You can't take shifts off. You have to know your defensive responsibilities. You can play hard or you cannot play at all."

I was wide awake now. I thought we were going to talk about the team's goals but this was more personal.

"Your value to this organization will be as a playmaker. We've got guys who can put the puck in the net. You're job is to get them that puck."

"I'll do whatever I can to help this --" I started.

"Bryan, shut up and listen. I don't want any of that team raw-raw bull right now."

I froze in my chair.

"Here's our goals for you this year." He reached into the chaos that was his desk and pulled out a three-ring binder. He flipped it open and read.

"We expect you to score 60 assists."

My mouth dropped to the floor. Sixty assists! I only scored 20 goals and 65 assists in my final year of junior hockey and this man was expecting 60 assists in my first season of professional hockey.

"We expect you to score 10 goals."

Okay, that was more realistic.

"We expect you to score 70 points."

Thanks. I knew 10 goals and 60 assists equaled 70 points.

"We expect you to take 157 shots."

That was a bit of curious goal but it was certainly attainable.

"Now get out there and remember to always give us maximum effort. I won't except anything less."

I left the room without saying a word. Frankly, I didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't be misinterpreted.

Seventy points! Who expects 70 points out of an eighth-round pick?

Should I be amazed that they think enough of me that they think I can score that many points? Or maybe this is why the Blackhawks haven't made the playoffs since dinosaurs roamed the Earth: The entire organization has its head in the sky.
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bhurst99

Sept. 20, 2008

I'm starting to wonder if Rockford's general manager has ever talked to Rockford's coach.

It was another strange day as a first-year pro in the Blackhawks organization.

I guess I shouldn't worry about it. If I play well on the ice everything else should take care of itself.

It seems like we have been waiting an eternity for the season to start and players are starting to get restless at training camp. A fight almost broke out today between Bryan Bickell and Petri Kontiolla after they were jostling for a puck in the corner and neither one of them is a fighter.

A lot of veteran players are upset that they were cut from the Chicago Blackhawks camp and have been assigned to the American League farm team. A lot of the young players are sick of the two-a-day practises, the meetings, the weight training, the video sessions -- we just want to play somebody.

The practises start to wear you down mentally. We've had practises on the ice where there is no puck -- do you believe that? It's just the coaches going over various forechecking schemes and defensive coverages in our own end.

I spent a few hours with the team doctor yesterday doing baseline tests in the event that I get a concussion. They measure stuff like an a player's memory, vision, attention span and coordination. If I get a concussion they'll retest me and compare the results with yesterday's test.

Who knew hockey could be so boring?

The long wait for the season does gives us a chance to bond as a team. As rookies we are one step above an ant on the food chain.

While I was conducting my tests, Colin Fraser came into the room, grabbed a chart, looked like he was reading it intently, looked at me seriously and says:

"Bad news rookie, you have incurable stupidity. Good news is you can't get a concussion if you don't have a brain."

He exited the door before I even had a chance to respond.

It has been an odd mixture of tedium, bonding and learning. That is until I went into head coach Bill Peters office today.

"Bryan, I've watched your hard work at camp," Peters said. "You've had a decent camp for a rookie. I decided that you will start the season on the third line."

I couldn't believe it. Just a few weeks ago the GM had told me the organization expected me to score 70 points. How was I going to do that on the third line?

Last year only one player on this team, Martin St. Pierre, cracked 70 points and you better believe he was on the first line. How am I going to do that when the first and second lines are going to receive most of the ice time?

"You're going to get a chance to anchor the second power play unit," he continued.

Had Peters even talked to the GM? It's going to take a maracle to crack 50 points with that little ice time.

"You'll be the number one centre on the penalty killing unit."

Obviously, Peters didn't believe I had any scoring ability. He was going to use me in a checking role -- a role I had no experience playing in junior. They might as well have just put me in net for all the good I was going to do there.

"You're going to be our second shooter in shootouts."

Peters was a certifiable nut. I was furious. I'm not a good enough scorer to play on the top two lines but come the shootout, I am the second guy.

I left Peters office angry but I was smart enough as rookie not to say anything stupid. It was going to be a long season once it began and this wasn't the time or place to get into a war of words with my first professional coach.

I would show them starting in October that I was better than his lowly opinion.

go_leafs_13

I love reading this, keep it up.

And btw, please post this on hockeydownloads.com, cause I dont like coming here just to read this if you know what i mean

bhurst99

It's also posted at the breakaway forums which appears to be part of the hockeydownloads.com site.

bhurst99

Oct. 9, 2008

Finally, tonight is my first professional hockey game.

I have to admit that I haven't been this nervous before a hockey game in a long time. It will be my first game in the American Hockey League and I know it's going to be a lot more challenging than junior hockey. The players are older, faster and much bigger. They're monsters compared to the teenagers I played against last year in the Ontario Hockey League.

But the biggest difference is the personality of the players. I've have been here more than a month and I've really noticed it. Most of the guys are positive, but some of the guys have a certain bitterness about them -- mostly the older guys who have had a taste of the NHL but haven't been able to stay there.

I guess when you have travelled first class on airplanes and stayed in four star hotels it's tough to go back on the bus in the minor leagues.

I talked to Matt Walker one of our defensemen who was drafted in 1998. He's played a bit in the NHL but he finds himself back here in Rockford to start the season.

He's warned me that skill isn't necessarily the biggest factor in determining who plays in the NHL and who gets sent down to the minors. A general manager is always more inclined to give higher draft picks a chance before other players because the GM has a lot invested in those high picks. They have to show ownership they are shrewd drafters and that the money spent on those picks hasn't been wasted.

He said I'll find there's a surprising amount of politics in professional hockey.

Walker is married now and has a couple of kids. He said there have been days when he's wondered if he would be better off quitting, going to college and getting a degree.

But he said the idea quickly passes because once you have been on the NHL ice and heard the roar of 17,000 fans, the experience is like an addictive drug.

You crave -- no you, need -- to feel it again and again. It consumes you and powers you. You wake up in the night and you can recall certains sound. The feeling of anticipation when you hear the fans clapping at the end of the anthem. The spontaneous chanting before a big power play, a standing ovation after a good penalty kill.

I don't want you to think it's all serious here. Wade Flaherty, our 40-year old goalie, has played in the AHL the last five years. He's just a joy to be around -- he's always joking and pulling pranks.

"Hey, rookie," he asked me this morning. "Do you have enough diapers for the season? I don't want you making a mess in my crease."

"I'm a forward, I don't plan to go into the defensive end," I joked.

"Oh, I forgot, you're going to get 60 assists," said Flaherty. He had obviously heard the GM's expectations that I should get 10 goals and 60 assists this year. "Tell you what, kid, if you get 60 assists I'll buy you a jock. I know you don't need one yet because you haven't hit puberty, but by the time you get 60 assists you'll need it. You should be 30 by then."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wade."

"Just play good defense, kid. The points will come in time. But seriously don't wet yourself tonight in my crease. I like to keep a clean sheet."

He had nothing to worry about. I felt like I was going to vomit I was so nervous before the game but it passed.

bhurst99

bhurst99

Opening Night



B.Hurst's uniform number is 14.

bhurst99

Oct. 10, 2008

My debut as a professional hockey player with the Rockford IceHogs yesterday was one of the best days of my life.

I was on the ice for both of our first two goals and I scored in the second period on a one-timer in the high slot to make it 4-1.

I was sitting on the bench after the goal thinking wouldn’t it be great if my family could have been here for my first pro goal. They live in Ontario and it is just too far and too expensive for them to travel here

Was I ever wrong.

As I was leaving the ice after the game to go to our dressing room , I heard a woman call my name from the stand. It didn’t hit me the first time, but then the second time I recognized my mom’s voice cry out “Bryan.” It was that unmistakable voice. The voice that called me in for supper from street hockey games as a kid; the urgent voice that called me out to the car on a frigid morning, worried that I would be late for a midget practise.

I looked up in the stands and there was my mom, dad and sister looking down at me. They were standing near the area where we leave the ice.

“Bryan, you must have your head in the sky,” said my dad. “Your mother has been yelling your name about a dozen times and I’ve been waving at you like I was signaling a plane to land.”

I was nearly speechless when I saw them there. I think the look on my face must have given my surprise away.

“You didn’t think we we’re going to miss your first pro game,” my sister said.

“Wow, you must have gotten great seats to be this close,” I said, struggling to find the right words.

“No, we were sitting way up there,” said dad, pointing toward the rafters. “We ran down here as quickly as we could once the game ended.”

“It’s great that you’re here. Did you see me score?” I asked.

“No, we were busy eating hot dogs,” my dad said sarcastically “Of course, we saw you score. Luckiest one-time ever.”

It was just like my dad to minimize my achievements. He is always worried when things go well that things might go too well, that I’ll turn into some egomaniac who won’t have time anymore for his parents.

“I’ve got to go back into the dressing room, but I’ll change as soon as I can and then I’ll buy you guys a late dinner.”

Now it was there time to look surprised.

There’s nothing like sharing the best moments of your life with your family. We had a great time over dinner and they shared with me the story of how they had planned the trip for weeks, secured tickets from the public relations office and drove 10 hours to make it in time for the game.

They’re leaving tomorrow. It was a long trip for them and it meant everything to me.

bhurst99

bhurst99

Game Two: Rockford at Quad City Highlights

bhurst99

Oct. 11, 2008

I laughed when I was first warned about his temper but I wasn't laughing when the nuclear bomb that is Bill Peters exploded in our dressing room in the first intermission.

Some players had told me Peters temper is legendary in hockey but I've had plenty of coaches with short fuses. They usually don't go too far in hockey circles or last too long because players simply don't respect coaches who are all fire and brimstone. It's why a smart coach like Mike Keenan has coached more teams than I can count.

When goalie Wade Flaherty told me Peters can be a bit of a head case -- yelling one second at the top of his lungs and complementing you the next like you're the second coming of Wayne Gretzky -- I thought Flaherty was joking, just trying to scare me, a rookie.

I was dead wrong.

We went into the first intermission down 2-0 to Quad Cities. We were sitting there on the benches in our locker room with our heads down because we truly played bad in the first period.

Peters waits for everyone to sit down and the room is pretty quiet because we know we were terrible.

"I would like to know how that guy is wide open in front of the net for the tap in on the second goal," Peters starts.

"Uh oh," Flaherty quietly mutters, sitting next to me.

Peters runs over to the two defensemen on the play and gets an inch from their faces.

"Did you not see him? Are you blind? Do I have blind defensemen on this team? Should I send you guys out on the ice with dogs? Maybe the dogs can bark and warn you idiots when there are players on the doorstep of the crease. Maybe one bark for open in front of the crease, two barks for open in the slot. We're going to need a very loud dog. DOES ANYONE KNOW ANY LOUD DOGS FOR MY BLIND DEFENSEMEN?"

Peters was uncontrollable, yelling at the defensemen for the full 15-minute intermission, completely tearing them apart. It was ludicrous. It's only the second game.

Naturally, the first thing that happens in the second period is I get a stupid cross checking penalty out of frustration. I was scared to go back to the bench.

Quad City took a 3-0 lead but then we got our legs and by the third had tied it 3-3.

We lost in shootout but after the start we'll take the point. I had our only goal of the shootout.

We go back in the dressing room after the game and Peters is now smiling.

"Great comeback, guys. I'm really proud of the heart you showed out there coming back from that 3-0 hole. Great work."

Wow. Peters might be bipolar.

I hope it's not going to be like this every night.

bhurst99

bhurst99

Game Three: Iowa at Rockford

bhurst99

Oct. 12, 2008

Yeah, I lost my cool. Yeah, it was pretty stupid. But these jokes will get on my nerves quickly.

By now you saw that I got in my first fight. I won my fight with Iowa’s Darryl Bootland with just two punches but it’s not something I’m really proud of. There’s no way I’m going to make the NHL by fighting. The only chance I have of ever making the NHL is as a playmaker and you can’t make plays from the penalty box.

Here’s a dirty secret that fighters never tell you: A fight can be so exhausting you’re pretty much done for the period. Imagine if you went to a mixed martial arts fight, watched the guys wrestle for a minute and then told them to go play hockey. You think they’re going to have much energy left to skate up and down the ice? Good luck with that.

You think a mixed martial arts fight is tough. Give me a break. I’ve heard of guys in hockey fights biting other guys on the ice and players trying to gouge out other players eyes. Try tapping out and see if the linesmen break it up. Some of them refuse to get involved until the punches stop.

There’s no danger in mixed martial arts of a guy damaging a finger or two swinging against someone’s rock hard equipment. I’ve seen some guys mangle their hands punching helmets.

But a good fight can rally a team and give players more space on the ice through intimidation.

Unfortunately, my fight was not a good one.

You see you’re not suppose to get in a fight when you have the puck in a scoring position in the offensive zone. That’s just stupid and that’s exactly what I did.

I was just frustrated because I was on the ice for the first two goals by Iowa and I haven’t had much in the way of scoring chances.

So when Bootland called me on when I had the puck near the top of the circle, I just dropped the gloves.

Our coach Bill Peters was mystified by that decision.

“Hurst, you know it was a tie game, right? You know if we score there we probably win. I love the passion, but you have to pick your spots.”

Goaltender Wade Flaherty wasn’t as kind.

“I’ve been in hockey since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, but I’ve never seen a player drop the gloves with a scoring opportunity,” said Flaherty. “You’re one of a kind, Hurst”

“I hate to see what would happen if you get a breakaway. Are you going to drop them and fight the goalie?”

Guys started laughing when they heard that one.

Lesson learned.

bhurst99

bhurst99

Game Four: Rockford at Iowa

bhurst99

Oct. 17, 2008

That's more like it.

We won our first game since opening night by destroying Iowa 6-2. We now have two wins to go with our two shootout defeats.

Being in the American Hockey League is a very strange experience. It's not like junior hockey where many of the players know they're not going to the next level and are already thinking about life outside of hockey.

Here in Rockford everyone is so close to the NHL it's all they talk about. Outside of goaltender Wade Flaherty we're a pretty young team and hopes among many are high they can make it in the NHL. Everyone is focused on Rockford, but we'd be lying if we didn't pay close attention to what's going on with the Chicago Blackhawks, our parent team.

With the Hawks off to their perennial bad start, guys are hearing rumours they are going to shake up the roster, send players down and call one of us up. The rumours are probably just that but it certainly got players attention before the game.

We asked coach Bill Peters about the rumours and he laughed. He's smart enough to use it to the team's advantage.

"Why would Chicago want to call anyone up from a team that has only one win?" Peters asked us. He had us there.

Kris Versteeg had about three Red Bulls before he got dressed and was bouncing around the room like a basketball.

"I hope they're paying attention in Chicago tonight because I'm going to show them my funky moves," he said while doing some sort of strange hip-hop dance in front of me. "We're going to bury Iowa."

Versteeg wasn't lying. He got the puck behind the net, went out in front and scored on a beautiful backhander. We routed Iowa.

I got my second goal of the season on a deflection in front of the net. It was probably my best shift of the entire season. I was named second star and got booed by the Iowa crowd. My first professional boo -- another first.

Versteeg wouldn't let go of the Chicago rumours after the game.

"Hey, coach, do you think the Hawks will be interested now in players from a team that hasn't lost in regulation all season?" Versteeg asked.

"They'd be more interested if you guys hadn't allowed them to tie after we were up 2-0," Peters said. "It's all about defense in the NHL. Keep working hard and you'll all get noticed."