Time slows down. The puck hits the ceiling fan blade. The ceiling fan is on. Thwack-thwack-thwack.
So dust off your dome table. Find your most competitive friend. And remember: the goalie is always cheating, the red team is always faster, and if the puck goes behind the fridge, you have to use a spatula to get it out.
This rarely hits the puck. But when it does? Chaos. table hockey hijinks
We shake hands. "Good game," we lie. Dave wins the face-off (read: he slaps the center rod so hard the magnet falls off the puck). He charges down the left wing.
My favorite move. When Dave shoots, I spin my goalie rod 360 degrees. Does it work? No. Does it look cool? Also no. But it occasionally knocks the beer bottles over like bowling pins, creating a liquid defense. The Grand Finale: The Overtime "Ceiling Shot" Sudden death. The tension is thick. The kitchen timer goes off (lasagna is done, but we ignore it). Dave has the puck on my blue line. Time slows down
"THAT’S A GOAL! HOUSE RULES! CEILING SHOT COUNTS!" Me: "THERE IS NO HOUSE RULE FOR ASTROPHYSICS!" The Aftermath We called it a draw because the cat threw up the pretzel water, and the lasagna was charcoal.
Dave picks the red team. I pick the yellow team. This is mistake number one. In table hockey lore, Red always has the "hot" goalie. Yellow’s goalie has a five-hole you could drive a truck through. Thwack-thwack-thwack
The red light flashes. The obnoxious buzzer sounds like a dying robot seagull.