The smell of the ice

There is something magical to me about a skating rink. The smell of the ice. The faint scent of popcorn. The sound of steel blades carving through the surface. The echo of a puck shot off the boards.  The blinding whiteness.

After 30 years of playing hockey, I still love the smells, the sounds, even just the sight of a rink. The pleasure that comes from putting the puck in the net, or sending the perfect pass to a teammate. The speed. The contact. All part of a wonderful game.

February 11, 2002

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