Field Hockey: Shootin’ with Sharkey

I arrived at Class of 1952 Stadium on my bike as a field hockey practice was coming to an end. I watched for a few minutes as the team — currently ranked No. 5 in the nation — ran line sprints up and down the field. At least, I thought, Sharkey will be a little bit tired. As the team wrapped up practice, staff writer Chris Dodds introduced me to head coach Kristin Holmes-Winn. Dodds explained that I was here to learn more about the field hockey team by standing in goal while junior striker Kat Sharkey, the nation’s leading scorer, took shots. Holmes-Winn shook my hand and directed me to find pads.

I hadn’t considered the pads too much before arriving at the stadium, so I sat down and immediately began attempting to fasten the massive shin guards to my legs. After about five minutes of effort, the shin guards were on, and I looked curiously at the pile of armor, wondering where to go next.

“You can’t start with the shin guards,” I heard someone say from behind me. I turned my head and saw senior goalkeeper Jen King staring at me, apparently confused.

“Here, let me help you,” she offered. She walked me through the lengthy process of putting on the pads. I was astounded as she produced pad after pad. After 10 minutes, I had elbow pads, shoulder pads, thigh pads, shin pads, a chest protector, a neck protector, a hip protector, shoe guards and some peculiar type of glove and stick all tightly attached to me. I looked around a little bit and expected I was done. I started for the field, but King stopped me and handed me a massive helmet.

“Now, you’re ready,” she said.

Given the bulky pads, I felt ready to go perform some dangerous task like bomb diffusal, riot squad or maybe human bouncy ball. But I was still lukewarm about having someone rocket shots at me.

Dodds introduced me to Sharkey, and we stepped out onto the field.

Sharkey laid a handful of field hockey balls on the turf about 12 yards from the goal.

“Start me off, slow!” I tried to yell through the thick helmet. I assumed my spot on the line and tried to take some type of athletic stance. The first shot whizzed by me and made a loud clang on the inside of the goal. I glanced at the ball and then looked back at Sharkey: I had barely even noticed that she had taken the shot.

Facing forward again, I balanced on the balls of my feet.

“Put your arms up!” King yelled. Sharkey wound up and shot again. I dove to my left, but the ball clanged in the back of the net once again. Now soaked from the wet turf, I struggled to stand up in the thick pads.

I was unnerved at this point. The next three shots — or three goals, more appropriately — did not ease my nervousness.

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“How about a one-on-one?” Sharkey suggested.

She began running quickly at the goal, and I stepped off the goal line to cut down her angle. She stopped her momentum just in front of me, cut the ball back and forth, and then neatly swept the ball between my legs for a goal.

After collecting the balls, she set up at the top of the arc once again to keep taking shots. As she wound up, I moved to the left side of the goal. The ball rocketed directly at me. The ball struck my glove, knocking my hand back with surprising force, and then rolled off the end line outside the goal. I made a save!

“Nice one!” King yelled from outside the circle.

Sharkey continued shooting, and I made a few more saves as time went on, even stringing together a series of saves at one point. Most of the shots found the back of the net, though. Sharkey went through a few different types of shots, including a penalty stroke.

Though Sharkey made most of her shots with strong offensive dominance, some of the assembled players congratulated me on the saves I made when we talked afterward. I promised to attend some future home games and thanked the team for the learning opportunity. Above all, I must say, it was indeed a learning experience. Field hockey, it turns out, is not for the faint of heart.