This thing is pretty handy, thanks Susan and Nathan.
In the interest of using it in the spirit in which I believe it was intended, here's a retrospective of this weekend's US Pond Hockey Championships, in which Maggie C, Jake, and I participated (along with a couple ringers) representing HSTM as "Maxwell's Demons".
Unfortunately, we came out of the weekend 0-4, do largely to a skiing injury that left Maggie on the IR, and the rest of us skating with no subs. Other than that, I think we acquitted ourselves and the program quite well on the ice, with both our perseverance and our snappy dress. Here is some photographic evidence that we were, in fact, out on the pond freezing our asses off at sparrow fart this weekend. You can click on any of these for a larger version:
This is the warming tent (actual warming subject to availability). We found out the full force of that disclaimer Saturday morning when we arrived and the gas had frozen overnight, leaving it a balmy -10° F or so inside. But then again, it's not the heat so much as the humidity that gets you.)
To you this might represent a crisp winter morning down by the lake where ruddy-cheeked little boys and girls play game in its purest form. To us it represents the crippling horror of having to shovel off several thousand square feet of rink before actually getting to play.
The jersey of our fallen comrade. Stay tuned for details of the number retiring ceremony to be held before next year's tournament.
When I asked this guy what he was up to, he simply mumbled that he dug it out, so it was his goddamn parking spot, and he'd be hog-tied and whipped with a bike chain before he let some snot-nosed, free-loading punk with a metastasized sense of entitlement take it from him.
Here's some in-game action, and a rare display of offense on our part.
This is Jake streaking up the wing. Come to think of it, an honest to goodness streaker could really have been an excellent tactical option for emergency situations. If you're willing to fill that role next year, get in touch.
I can't think of anything even remotely amusing to say about this picture.
This is a perfect example of why while the scoreboard might lead you to believe we were outclassed, closer examination reveals quite the opposite. I mean, look at those slobs. The bouncer must have been napping.
Despite our outlandish getups seeming restrictive, we found that coattails provide some loft, and result in increased stride frequency. We are negotiating with Easton Sports over licensing tweed-based performance technology (patent pending).
I'm providing a bit of extra scroll space here, because the next picture contains Cloverfield spoilers. You have been warned.
OH GOD, NUKE IT FROM ORBIT!
Thanks to Maggie for the photography, and for hanging around on the sidelines, freezing much more than we were, despite being unable to play.