As I was
trying to think of a catchy title for this post I thought of how we are often
referred to as “those hockey people”. I looked up a few definitions of a cult
and if you take out the religious aspect the definition I found was: A small
group that is not part of a larger and more accepted group that has beliefs
regarded by many people as extreme or dangerous. I found this amusing. Some of
my non-hockey friends have called me crazy for taking my kids out of school for
a hockey tournament. In addition, hockey
people won’t ever admit it to anyone outside of the group, but they have all at
one time or another down-played their kids’ injury to their family doctor to
get clearance to play. (not me, though) Extreme? Dangerous? Nah, in our “small
group” what happens in the compound, I
mean at the rink, stays at the rink.
Since I
started my blog to share ideas about how to use and display collections and
vintage treasures, this post is about a work in progress at my house. It is our
broken hockey stick collection. Yes, I am now stooping to the level of
decorating with trash. If you are not part of this cult let me explain. I married a man who has played hockey his whole life. He was so happy when we had kids because he knew some day he would fulfill an item on his bucket list. He was finally able to coach a hockey team.
My son’s
first hockey skates are the same size as his first white leather Stride Rite
walkers. Here in Michigan the ice rinks
have little skating frames that resemble a miniature version of granny’s
walker. Reason being, the kids are put on skates so young they aren’t even that good at walking yet. Luckily my son loves the game as much as my
husband. He is 17 and now plays for his
high school.
My husband
is in his 50s and still plays hockey on what’s known as “the beer league” A
bunch of middle aged men get together a few times a week and play hockey. It’s
a tight group. The wives are friends. Many of the kids have played on a team
together at one time or another. We have
vacationed together (stayed in hotels for hockey tournaments). We have spent
holidays together (gone out to eat during Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas
for holiday tournaments). It has been our second family.
We live and
breathe hockey in this house. Unfortunately, it happens to be a pretty
expensive sport. Some hockey parents even choose their ice bill in lieu of a
college fund. They can’t afford both.
What is an ice bill, you ask? It is a monthly bill hockey parents make so their
kid can be on a hockey team. It is about
the equivalent of our gas bill, no; our electric bill, no; about the equivalent
of our cell phone bill for four ipones with unlimited everything.
In addition
to the ice bill comes the equipment: a really big bag full of pads for
shoulders & elbows, guards for necks & shins, helmets & jocks for the beans, skates and
a stick or three. With the money we paid
for our son’s last pair of skates we could have purchased a decent used car.
Again, if you are not in the cult called hockey you might think I am making
this up or crazy.
The last
piece of equipment I want to mention is the stick. Hockey players are very particular about their
stick, how they tape it, how often they tape it, what curve they use, what
strength they use. I think there is a university in Canada somewhere
specifically to study and teach hockey stick engineering & taping. They can
cost as much as an ice bill. The player needs spare sticks, game sticks,
practice sticks. A stick can be snapped in two in a hot second.
So our wall
of broken hockey sticks is a treasure to me.
I could not accept that all those expensive sticks so quickly became
trash, I just couldn’t. Some were broken in the beer league. Some were broken
in a practice & some in a game. Some were donated by I’m pretty sure future
NHL players. It is my shrine to the cult called hockey. It is the most expensive paneling you will ever
find. Like my wine cork dart board back drop, I am not going to add it up. Some
spots are still empty. As I said, it is a work in progress. I am not in any
hurry to fill up those empty spaces. That would mean my husband and son are out
shopping to replace a broken stick.
No comments:
Post a Comment