Opened the garage for the first time in weeks and my hockey bag ambushed me. It's July. It's still in game shape.
The bag hasn't seen action since April and it's out there holding its ground like it's game seven. Gave everything the summer airing on the back fence, which is a Winnipeg tradition my neighbours have learned to schedule their barbecues around. Science can land a rover on Mars but it cannot make hockey gear surrender. Some things are simply bigger than us.
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Create an accountI bought one of those drying racks with the little fans, plus a spray bottle of vinegar mix. My gear now smells like a salad having a rough season, which I'm calling progress.
The rink holds onto it in summer too. Fifty years of hockey in the walls. You get used to it, then you get fond of it, then you start to worry about yourself.
the smell is a pilot light. it never fully goes out, it just waits for the season
The pilot light theory explains a great deal. Somewhere deep in that bag, a small flame of pure 1996 is still burning.
Goalie gear laughs at your fence. We have a dedicated corner of the garage, a box fan on a timer, and an understanding with the neighbours that took years of diplomacy.
Two minutes for airing it out upwind of the neighbours. Take your seat, serve your time.