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Someone asked me a question about this post. Here's my answer:

I grew up as a fan of my minor pro team The Phoenix Roadrunners and

went to many of their games, complete with mesh wire fence around the rink

instead of glass, and rubber chickens being swung on sticks over said fence

to taunt the opponents. This all occurred in the largest arena venue in Phoenix

which never sold out for hockey as I recall. My favorite player was a small guy

named Bobby Mowat. I still have newspaper clippings of him. He was no star,

but somehow I identified with him ... I guess because of that. My absolute favorite

memory of this time is when me and a friend joined the fan club on a road trip to

San Diego. In between the first and second period we got to play a broom hockey

game against our rival fan club, AND we got to wear the game-worn, unwashed home

jerseys of OUR team, and I of course grabbed the bloody, sweaty, smelly jersey of

Bob Mowat. We didn't get to keep them.

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Welcome to incipient old age.

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What a great entry! I knew some of this from our chats but you frame it so well. As someone who holds onto physical exertion (bicycling), I well know how it not only keeps our body younger but even more importantly it keeps our spirits alive. The discipline of suiting up and getting out there is proof of life. When we stop those things, we begin to move towards the opposite. I am not ready for that, and I think you are not ready for that.

As I once said, “Everybody looks better in a hat (trick).”

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