There is a chill in the air. The leaves are turning. The Mets are playing out their final meaningless games. All of these are signs that the Night Owls Hockey Club Fall/Winter season is back.
This fall I am playing on both the Thursday and Sunday squads. We are already three weeks into the season and so far it has been a boon on the scoresheet for me, including a Hat Trick and two sick and professional backhand goals. In fact, Diane was alert enough to capture one of them right before the moment of greatness:
She also, rather passive-aggressively I might add, captured some photographs detailing the temperature inside the arena.
On another note, Diane's mom deserves some sort of medal for the very selfless act of washing my hockey equipment. If you are lucky enough to have never smelled hockey equipment, perhaps my good friend the Sports Guy will give you a level of appreciation for how powerful it is. This is an excerpt from a 2007 article:
"My theory on why all hockey players are so boring: It takes three beers to loosen them up because their brains are rendered senseless by the stench of sweaty, stinky hockey equipment. It's like the smell of death -- you can't get it out of your nostrils once it gets in there. Hence, they're on autopilot until that fourth beer makes the stench go away. And then? All hell breaks loose."
The last time I had my equipment washed (which was also by Diane's mom) Bush was still president, the New York State Senate was still a Republican (yet dignified) body, and the world was unaware of Bristol Palin's sexcapades. It was getting so bad that I was getting dirty looks in the locker room.