We always begin with a cheer. The referee, waiting to drop the puck at center ice, refers to it as the rah-rah shit, as in "Go do your rah-rah shit so we can start this game." The cheer is a relic from the serious, organized, desperately important sporting events we played in high school and college. Here it is mostly a gag. Together we stand around our goalie Bob, wearing our mismatched green jerseys, oddly colored gloves, and torn equipment. We stink of sweat and leather and mildew. Tom stretches his torso by gripping the end of a goal post. Brian checks the tape on the knob of his stick. Norm, our gray-haired captain,... More >>>