When I was in the 6th grade and playing in my second year of hockey in a town I won’t name, I was sitting in the dressing room before a game, getting prepared – which consists, if your pops isn’t around at the moment, of getting your damned skates laced tightly enough to not wobble, but not so tightly (yes, Mr. G-, I remember your strong paramedic’s hands as the assistant coach, bless you) that you lost feeling in your feet.
I didn’t love this town, and I had no love for most of the kids on the team. My family lived between two hockey towns and this town was the first in which I played. Didn’t live there. Thank God.
