A few weeks ago a friend of mine with whom I play pickup ice hockey with once a week invited me to participate with his Saturday team in a hockey tournament. I have played pickup with him for a few years and we have some common hockey friends but off the ice we have had little opportunity to connect over the years. He is a goaltender, and his team was going to be short a few defencemen, so he asked me to come along. I have always enjoyed playing in front of him - I have even said that he is likely the best goalie I have played with - so I was pleased to infer that he had similar appreciation for my abilities.
The theme of the tournament, and the participants, was sort of artsy, and the majority of the teams came from the artsy city in which I live, but that is not to discount the many teams who came from much less urban and urbane environs, and from much further afield - all the way from the east coast in fact.
It spanned the Easter weekend, and one of the highlights of the tournament was the talent contest, which was held as usual at a popular divey bar in the edgy part of downtown.
As if to take the irreverence to another level, my adopted squad had teamed up with a co-ed team and as part of the entertainment portion for the Saturday night, were doing a performance piece wherein the players dressed as either choristers or sisters and went on stage to belt out a number of erstwhile reverent, but mostly irreverent, numbers along a vaguely religious theme. It was hugely entertaining, and a good time was had by all.
I played well and even notched a couple of key goals. And best of all, despite all expectations, my adopted team fought its way through to the Sunday morning finals, which ironically enough were scheduled not in the godless suburban rink in which the rest of the entire tournament had been held, but downtown at the gorgeous wooden-raftered and 60s-era home rink of one of the two biggest Catholic schools in the city, the proving ground of so many hometown heroes over the years.
It was a glorious place to play and an unforgettable Easter Sunday, winning the championship with my adopted friends. I am not sure if anyone else saw the irony.