Hockey equipment smells bad on a bitter cold January day after being left in the trunk after last night’s game. There’s no point of comparison for the same left in the trunk (and then left to sit in there in the sun the next day) after Thursday night shinny in the summertime. Thanks heaven’s for garage’s as a staging area for hockey laundry.
Category Archives: Smells
Charles Schulz would have been proud if he’d been in Elmira today. The creator of the Peanuts comic strip was an avid hockey fan. However, as well as creating Charlie Brown and his merry band of carousing guy buddies, his colourful pooch Snoopy and some pretty saucy young dames, he also gave life to the unseen character known as the Great Pumpkin.
And so, had he been in Elmira today, he would have witnessed something almost as rare as a spotting of the Great Pumpkin itself, and that is the victory of the Golden Boot by the W’s Orange team (aka. Pumpkin). It is well known lore in the W that Orange is a cursed colour to play for. As Warmington said after the game, if you play for Orange, that should be worth about a 20 goal handicap before blades hit the ice.
But today was their day, from the jamming home of a goal on their first shift against my mates on White to their 3-0 record when all the games ended, today was a beautiful day to be Orange.
However, the W’s season finale isn’t really about winning. (Ok, we all try pretty hard to win and White thinks it really should have won but that’s a topic for a different day). No, the finale is more about enjoying all the good things that come from a bunch of like-minded blokes laughing and joking their way through a half a day each year to finish off a season. During the regular season, you get maybe 15-20 minutes before and after each game to socialize (less if you’re me or Tim Ireland, more if you are the Sedin Twins, Jimmy David or Bernie). On the day of the season ending tournament, you get to know people better. Here’s a sampling of stuff I didn’t know when I woke up this morning:
– Warmington once picked up a road-killed racoon and threw it in the back of his Ford station wagon one winter night thinking he would give it to one of his buddies who traded coon pelts. However, he promptly forgot about it, traded the Ford in one fine spring day before the thaw and heard later about the discovery coming as it did after some strange aromas needed to be investigated on the used car lot.
– Fulch’s Dad once decided the campground-sold firewood wasn’t for him and headed down the road into the bush, found a log to throw into the back of the wagon and drove back to the campground only to scare the beejeezus out of his travelling companion uncle when they discovered, much to the pain of his snake-fearing uncle that there was a snake’s nest in the log. While “Snakes-in-a-Car” isn’t the snappy Hollywood title that “Snakes on a Plane” was, the fact that this was for real made it a better story
– someone’s hockey bag once had a nest of mice in it and they decided to leave their home while the owner and bag were en route to the rink in the car. Again, this even less scary than Snakes-in-a-car but it has does have a charm of its own as hockey-bag stories go. Upon hearing this someone commented “Where the hell does he keep his bag?”
– Ref Rich indicated that ref’ing some college girl games enabled him to learn that not all girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. While Rich doesn’t get intimidated by anyone in the W and is quite happy to laugh off any of us who get wound up at him for his calls / non-calls during the season, I think I heard his voice quiver a little as he described some of these college-girl games
– lastly, and I’m a bit biased in favour of Pat’s story-telling abilities, his story about a business trip to China was just as funny to me on the third telling as it was in the first. (On the third go, we were sitting in Red’s dressing room eating their food and drinking their bevies after it had become clear they weren’t going to help us win by beating Orange in the final game). In this particular yarn, which is too weird to be made up and proves that truth is stranger (and funnier) than fiction, Pat outlined how business on this particular trip seemed to get done during the big lunch and dinner feasts that had the eatees drowning in all kids of booze. (In fact, I believe the Indonesian fellow who fell off his chair may have in fact actually drowned). One morning after a particularly heavy feast the night before, one that Pat described by stating things were getting “pretty cloudy at the end”, they entered some chairman’s private dining room only to discover what appeared to be a five-gallon aquarium with a dead lizard on a stick, half in / half out of the aquarium, with all manner of fungus and seaweed and ginseng and other assorted life forms bubbling and growing. “That’s ugly.” Pat suggested to his Canuck sidekick. Ugly would have been fine had it not turned for the worse after lunch when the ladles came out and the hosts started pouring this unique brand of kool-aid into glasses for the businessmen to drink. Makes a nice pull on on a cold beer after a game of hockey to chase down some smoke-cured sausage seem so civilized doesn’t it?
And so, another year is in the books. The Golden Boot goes to Orange. Here’s to Monday night’s symposium where we relive today one more time over chicken wings and just enough vegetables to make ourselves believe we’re eating healthy and staying in shape for next season. And here’s to the second Monday in September when we open up those musty hockey bags and, after checking things first based on the what we learned from the tales above, throw on our gear to begin a new season.
I have an awkward back door and landing area which makes it difficult to get my gear into and out of the house. As a result, I leave it in the garage. This works pretty well except in the really cold months because it just freezes and when I get to my games late at night and take my stuff out, it’s just ridiculous cold to put on.
Last night was no exception. It was a very cold week here in KW, even in this age of climate change. As I slowly put my gear on and winced, some of my teammates chucked while others were suffering a similar fate. Talk inevitably turned to the various ways of warming one’s equipment. The furnace room was a favourite but it was acknowledged that this approach can sometimes have that unique hockey bag smell getting beyond the furnace room.
One of the Bob’s on the team even suggested he once threw his gear into the dryer once to warm / dry it prior to a game and that ended quite a bit more poorly than the furnace room approach with a spousal reprimand finishing it off. Amazing how it wafted quickly throughout the whole house from the dryer. Who knew? We kidded him that his wife probably heard the noise of his skates pounding around inside the dryer like a very large piece of change and that’s what really tipped her off.
Anyway, we hit the ice shortly thereafter and in short, we stunk and lost big.