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This is a story that was rekindled in my pea brain a few days ago by Tutka.

The year was 2002 and I was a wide-eyed, baby-faced rookie in the NLL wanting to be a part of the Rochester Knighthawks in any way, shape or form. So on this particular weekend I took advantage of being able to be as close to the game as I could with out putting on the pads. One of our coaches was unable to make it to the afternoon matinee match in Toronto so I jumped through the window and offered my services to coach Paul Day and asked if I could run the D gate.

Seeing my enthusiasm and not really having any other choice, he said I could do it. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

So the game doesn’t quite go according to plan. Rodney Tapp, my roommate in Rochester at the time, had a terrible case of food poisoning caused by a Red Osier sandwich. (Bruce Barker loves these things so much he named his fantasy team after them!!) He had been spewing out of both ends for 12 hours, could barely stand, was whiter than Tutka’s skin and almost fell down every time he bent down for a face-off.

Here’s where I come in. On one of those face-offs, the ball scoots out and comes directly at our bench. I see this happening and immediately go to slam the door shut. However, the door doesn’t latch properly and was still open. NOT GOOD!

Jim Veltman, one of the classiest players of all time, comes hoovering in for the loose ball as he always does, only to get rocked by Cory Bomberry. Bomber sent him flying right into the bench door, all at the same time I’m trying to slam it shut. The door flies open and JV goes right into the edge of the bench and down to the ground. At this point in time I’m s—ting my pants; “What did I just do?”

Out of the blue, Jim pops right back up, gives me the ol’ “What the F?!?” look and throws a left-field punch right at me and my shoulder. Did that really just happen? All I could do was sort of back up and let the rest of the guys on the bench and the floor deal with it.

I couldn’t believe I had done that. I was in shock that it had happened and that I had gotten punched. (JV got the only penalty out of it all and he wasn’t hurt, so that made it a little better) The game was a national TV game on Sportsnet (remember those?). So after the game I get about 4 voicemails from my family asking about what happened. I guess the camera guys sort of zoomed in on the bench as this happened and I looked liked I had lost my best friend. As Tutka said, it scared my hair white!

Now, obviously, JV and I have talked about the incident and I pretty much apologized to no end the next summer when he played here in Victoria. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if it had been worse. Thankfully Jim was wearing his 1969 Brine pads that night and those things seem to be indestructible!

On a side note: Being an afternoon game, Derek Malawsky, Chris Schiller and I whipped down the 401 toward Buffalo so we could watch the Bandits vs. Saints game that night. We got there just in time for the introduction of the Bandits players. This may seem far-fetched, but this is exactly what the three of us and all the fans heard:

“NUMBER 3 … BILLY S-T-DEE SMITH!”

Ha-ha … best/worst nickname of all time! That Buffalo guy sure knows how to call ‘em!

Another note: I make my satellite radio debut this Saturday, so be sure to tune into Inside the NLL with Casey Powell on Sirius Satellite Ch. 147 at 8 p.m. Eastern time!

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