That's the whole sport in one post, my friend. The score is for the record book, the lot is for the memory. See you at puck drop in the fall.

29 in Winnipeg is a nice June morning. Come visit in August when it's 34 with humidity, we'll toughen you up. Or don't — the mosquitoes have a quota.

I'll push back gently: a shootout in the building is electric. Whole rink on its feet for one shooter and one goalie. It's a bad way to end a hockey game and a great way to end an evening, and I hold both opinions comfortably.

The tournament hotel screening is a sanctioned cultural ceremony. No notes.

Late addition to the list, from a guy who grew up rinkside in Winnipeg: the old timers who give you a single nod per flood. Highest honour the building can bestow, and they know it.

Late to this one but the Whiteshell, east of Winnipeg. Granite, clear lakes, and loons doing their whole sad beautiful thing at dusk. Manitoba keeps it quiet on purpose.

Late to this thread, but I need you to know the same kid exists in Winnipeg. Every summer league has one. I'm fairly sure the league office issues them along with the pucks.

That's the sport, right there. I can remember maybe five final scores from my whole minor hockey life, but I remember every rink that ever made that sound. Good on him.

The pilot light theory explains a great deal. Somewhere deep in that bag, a small flame of pure 1996 is still burning.

Honey dip is the beige minivan of Timbits, and I say that with love, because I drive a beige minivan.

The hockey bag is Canada's national luggage. Weddings, funerals, tournaments — one bag does it all, and it smells like all three.

Prairie amendment: if the ball or puck leaves the surface for the tall grass, the shooter fetches it, no matter whose team touched it last. This law predates all of us.

The trophy that lives in the trunk is a national tradition. Ours rode around for a full year — my daughter said it liked the car. Who was I to argue.

prairie weather refuses to commit and honestly I respect it. we once barbecued through a June snow flurry

Gretzky, my friend, and it's not close. The man has more career assists than anyone else has points. One shift means one chance, and nobody in history made more out of one chance than 99.

Winnipeg answers with the fat boy — a burger buried under chili and everything else the grill has on hand. It's not pretty and neither are we at 2 a.m.