I awoke Saturday morning, fully expecting to find a series of emails from those who were supposed to attend the Battle of Alberta/Covered in Oil street hockey game, all saying that they weren't going to be able to make it. It had snowed all night long, and it was a dreary late October day. In a week, Edmonton had transitioned from the hues of autumn into a Winter Not-So-Wonderland. Who, then, would want to come out and play some ball hockey?

Yet the emails I received were of a different sort. Are we still playing? Yes! It's Edmonton. Snow will not prevent us from playing. Bring some shovels to clean the rink. Dress warm. It's not that cold. Game on!

I arrived at the rink shortly after the appointed time, Pleasure Motors and Cosh in tow. I couldn't see other bodies, but I could see shovels and snow flying through the air. Fantastic! And then, when I entered the rink, I saw the water. Tiny puddles, medium sized puddles, and a pond. Water had been thrown out, but it just kept seeping back in. It wasn't going anywhere. Then again, neither were we. Not one word was uttered about fleeing the arena. I doubt anyone even thought about it. We were going to play, come Hoth or high water.

And so we played. We played, though the rink was like a golf course, littered with traps and hazards. In some places, the ball wasn’t just slowed by the water. It was actually floating in it, bobbing like an orange fish weight. The water itself became a defenceman, blocking passes and preventing shots. It also became a weapon, used to stall, blind and drench opponents.

And what of our protagonists? Well, Pleasure Motors was everywhere at once, helping out on defence and then quickly transitioning the ball up the rink for a pass or a scoring chance. He attacked the crease with reckless abandon, gaining himself a place in the tiny pantheon of Edmonton hockey lunatics: Anderson, Simpson, Smytty, and now, Berry. His hair was a wet mass of effort; when he pinballed up and down the rink, strands of hair snapped the sky like a Gorgon's. It was a masterful performance, fully deserving of a Three Star.

I, on the other hand, mostly stayed at home. The defensive zone was my abode, and I’d like to think I owned it. I was beat a few times, with dazzling dekes and spinaroos numbing my capacity to think. But my play was mostly solid, even Harvey-esque in its quality and dignity. I did in fact score three goals, but it wasn’t exactly a D-Vo special like I predicted. Rather, I scored them over a three game period. Yet I felt no shame in not getting the hat-trick I so desired. My body and my mind told me that, on that day, my role would be to prevent the scoring of goals, rather than being commited to the scoring of them.

And the other players on this inclement stage? Simply glorious. It was a day, as Cosh noted on the way home, where everyone had a moment of greatness, where all showed flashes of brilliance. The goalies made huge, breath-taking saves. The defencemen cut off lanes and made crisp outlet passes. The forwards danced, dangled and buried the ball. Spectators watched, taking tremendous pictures, tidying up our mess, and cheering us on.

It was, in short, an amazing day. I haven't had that much fun in a long time, even though my body is paying for it today. I really want to thank all who came out. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Next time, we'll find a more suitable venue, get some more bodies, and it'll be even better than it was yesterday. And I hope that more of you can join us. Trust me, you won't forget it.

GOILOGOSPHERE!





Bottom (Left to Right): Sean (TB), Pleasure Motors, Ender (in goalie gear), Jeremy, Me, Aaron, Adrian (in goalie gear)

Top (Left to Right): Matt (not Fenwick), Allan's girlfriend, Allan, Daniel, Bobby, Darron, James