Hockey is for masochists

I love, love, love playing ice hockey, but it’s not without a price.

After noon-hour hockey today, I’ve got a bruise just over my left hip (cross-check), a contusion on my upper left leg (puck), and another sore spot on my right calf (stick). That in addition to the 4 stitches from two weeks ago.

Either hockey players are just suckers for punishment, or we’re just really, really dense, or it’s the best game in the world and all the many sacrifices it demands are amply repaid by the pure pleasure of a puck flying into the net just inside the post rippling the twine in a beautiful but fleeting symphony of motion.