Best 584 quotes in «hockey quotes» category

You can always get someone to do your thinking for you.

You can have all the talent in the world, but if the pumper's not there, it doesn't matter.

You can show me some stick ice cream and I can tell you if it's good or not just looking at it.

You can't control the opposition, but you can control how you play, your energy level, your intensity on the ice. That's what we're going to do.

You can't just go outside and play hockey. It's more of an expensive sport.

You do not play hockey for good seasons. You play to win the Stanley Cup. It has to be the objective.

You don't have enough talent to win on talent alone.

You don't win by being good. You win with hard work and sacrifice. Without that, skill is just potential.

You get a pretty good read by watching the play, and knowing what you would have done - having done most of the things that these guys are accused of doing. I put myself in their shoes: Would I have been wanting to send a message? Is it a hockey play that went a little sideways?

You guys just here to blame someone. You never look yourselves in the mirror, eh? You're always good. You never make the mistakes. Your articles are always perfect. In reality, what have you done for this city? If you ask yourself, what have you done besides only criticize? Not much.

You're too old to still be playing. I'll buy you a rocker you can sit in.

You keep shooting. You hope it goes in, and you smile.

You know what? I did! I impressed myself just making it.

You need a lot of leaders, but a hockey team needs a voice, not only in the community, but more importantly between the coaching staff and the players. There are always ups and downs in a season; the captain is the guy players look to in those situations.

You try to squeeze a little more Charmin in the pads when you face him.

Audrey didn't understand Piper's obsession with Erik. Yes, he was insanely gorgeous, with dark hair and dark sexy eyes, but he gave off a dick vibe. Piper was such a sweet and funny girl, and Audrey really didn't think they would be good together. But apparently Erik Titov did it for Piper, and who was she to question it? She herself was in love with an ass-hat and lusting over a child. She was in no place to judge anyone on their lusty needs.

You've got to go to the net if you want to score.

You've got to love what you're doing. If you love it, you can overcome any handicap, or the soreness, or all the aches and pains and continue to play for a long, long time.

And all those things you listed right now, they’re things Garrett and I do together. Dude, you don’t want me. You want me and Garrett.

And no one talked to me about any psychological effects. I didn’t know the meaning of trauma then, but I knew the meaning of being a total pussy, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be one.

Hockey is not for pussies. Technically, it’s defined as a sport. Words like play and game get thrown around liberally to shield its true nature: hockey is warfare with water breaks. In the rink, you have over two thousand pounds of brute force clashing with whittled clubs, a rubber disc that could crush a larynx, and knives attached to feet. Let’s not pretend there’s anything civilized going on here.

Concern washes over Jess’s brown eyes. Followed by the heat of accusation as she spins toward Blake again. “You didn’t tell me he had a headache!” “I didn’t know!” “What kind of nurse are you?” “The kind who plays hockey!

don’t want to fuck with your head.” he whispers. “I wish I hadn’t ever done that.” But it’s not my head that needs fucking. “Come over here,” I say. “Please.” “No fucking way.” he replies “I can make you.” He laughs. “Did you smoke some pot while I was our, Canning?” I laugh too, and it’s such a relief. Because it means I haven’t wrecked everything. But I lift my hips, peel off my briefs, and throw them at his head. He bats them away, smiling in the dark. Kicking the sheet off, I put my hand on my dick. And he stops laughing.

ESPN, is having the ability to foretell future outcomes in sports.

Excerpt from Winning Streak, Las Vegas Sinners Book 3, coming later this year: Tonight’s ensemble was typical Madden. Dark and faded but expensive jeans, a fitted, black Vegas is For Lovers t-shirt and some Doc Martin boots. Okay, those were a little unusual. “We’re not going for a hike in the desert, are we?” “Not exactly.” “What is ‘not exactly’? I’m not a pee-behind-a-tree kind of girl.

Fans like me don't watch hockey, we read it. The hockey nexus - the league, owners, teams, players, media and advertisers - under-reads hockey and overlooks those parts of the game women respond to, like scruffish players in sharp suits saying hi to Mom back home in Cranbrook.

He doesn’t need skill - he just needs to be here. Him. Here. With me.

His eyes are a hazy swirl of gray, like a thick mass of clouds gathering before an impending storm

Buck is a mammoth, like a yeti. A huge perverted, hairy whore of a yeti. According to the sportscasters, Buck's an excellent hockey player. I'd agree, based on his yearly salary alone. No one gets much money for sucking, not even extremely skilled prostitutes.

He sounded like he was used to people swearing at him, which made no damned sense, because he was gorgeous and a hero.

Hockey and cooking are similar in so many ways, especially if you are a player-coach, the guy in charge on the ice, a role I would closely relate to that of a chef in the kitchen - they are both contact sports. You've gotta keep your head up, keep moving and communicate well. Even though you might be the leader in the kitchen or on the ice, you need to understand that that you're part of a working machine and that machine stops working if one of the pieces isn't working in unison with the others. I learned from a very young age the importance of being part of this team dynamic and how hard work can take you to so many different places. (Chef Duane Keller)

I don’t want to fuck with your head.” he whispers. “I wish I hadn’t ever done that.” But it’s not my head that needs fucking. “Come over here,” I say. “Please.” “No fucking way.” he replies “I can make you.” He laughs. “Did you smoke some pot while I was out, Canning?” I laugh too, and it’s such a relief. Because it means I haven’t wrecked everything. But I lift my hips, peel off my briefs, and throw them at his head. He bats them away, smiling in the dark. Kicking the sheet off, I put my hand on my dick. And he stops laughing.

I don’t want to fuck with your head.” he whispers. “I wish I hadn’t ever done that.” But it’s not my head that needs fucking. “Come over here,” I say. “Please.” “No fucking way.” he replies “I can make you.” He laughs. “Did you smoke some pie while I was our, Canning?” I laugh too, and it’s such a relief. Because it means I haven’t wrecked everything. But I lift my hips, peel off my briefs, and throw them at his head. He bats them away, smiling in the dark. Kicking the sheet off, I put my hand on my dick. And he stops laughing.

I broke up with her to avoid getting into a serious relationship with her, and now it

If we keep winning, our destiny is in our own hands.

The accusation raises my hackles. “Why? Because I’m a player?” Indignation makes my tone harsher than I intend for it to be. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s because I haven’t met the right girl yet? But no, I couldn’t possibly want someone to cuddle with andwatch movies with, someone who wears my jersey and cheers for me at games, and cooks dinner with me the way you and Garrett—

I’m just a simple guy. I love beer, sex, and hockey. I hate liars, Sting, and art that doesn’t have people in it. - Luke Almeida

Love is friendship set on fire. I get it now.

Meaning I want to put words to it. I want to give it a name. I'm not okay with kissing you and holding you, being by your side for all the things a boyfriend would be there for, without it being understood in no uncertain terms that that's what I am to you. I wan us to be a couple. I want to be by your side though everything that's coming, to hold your hand when you're scared and pick you up when you're weak. I want to know that you're not going to run to some other asshole when we disagree or when I try to make sure you do what we both know is the best for you. I wan you to run to me, even if I piss you off. Because I will piss you off. Because I love you. And because you love me. And because I can't go one more day without being able to tell you that as often as it comes to mind, which is about a dozen times a minute. - Jamie Babcock

Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.

People think common sense is common - but it's not.

I want something real. Something that leads to something more than sex.

someone like Grace. Someone exactly like Grace, with her Ted Bundy rants and her calming presence and—hello, irony.

Trades are happening, and I have two players that if they don't get their crap together I'm going to castrate them." He took in a sharp breath. "Don't castrate my teammates, sweetheart, it will affect how they play.

Top shelf where momma hides the cookies!

Two seconds later, he’s there. And I’m stretching out on him like a blanket, and jamming my tongue into his mouth. Jamie moans, but I’m too wrapped up in the taste of him to worry about it. I have my fingers in his hair, and his hot, hard body under mine and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. - Wes

Wes growls when I come in his mouth, but he doesn’t stop sucking until I’m limp and mindless. As the aftershocks of the orgasm continue to flutter through my sated body, I vaguely register that he’s beside me now. Kissing my neck. Stroking my abs. Nuzzling my beard with his cheek. “Fucking love this beard,” he whispers. “Fucking love you,” I whisper back.

Vadim sat up, unfairly pulling the towel over his groin so she missed the main attraction. Had he changed in the intervening years? If anything, he had to have grown bigger, which was terrifying, because the boy had rocked a manaconda at nineteen. Dicks didn’t shrink with time, did they? Note to self: Google penis size changes with age. For science.

Un altro giorno stava per incominciare. Un altro giorno che si sarebbe spento in un’altra notte. La sua vita era un susseguirsi inutile di secondi, minuti e ore senza luce. Non c’era più luce in lui, né fuori di lui. Forse non era più neppure un essere umano. Forse era diventato una bestia. Sì, doveva essere così, almeno a giudicare dai peli che gli coprivano il volto e dai ringhi e grugniti con i quali ormai si esprimeva nella vana speranza di tener lontano il mondo. Ray predatore Raider fece per alzarsi dal divano che era diventato la sua zattera di salvataggio, ma ricadde pesantemente sui cuscini lasciando andare un sospiro disperato. Il male al ginocchio, da quando aveva interrotto gli antidolorifici, era insopportabile, ma almeno gli permetteva di rimanere lucido e di non dimenticare. Bussavano alla porta, ecco perché si era svegliato dal suo torpore. Anne, probabilmente, e la sua mania di portargli da mangiare quando lui avrebbe voluto solo bere. Si sdraiò di nuovo sul divano e si coprì la testa con un cuscino. Avrebbe finto di dormire, sì, e Anne se ne sarebbe andata.

You never learn anything if you're the one talking