One of the unofficial annual traditions of this conference is a floor hockey game between the Canadians and Americans. I hadn’t played any form of hockey since elementary school and my attitude toward the sport in general is indifference at best. Nevertheless, my patriotic duty was to represent the honour of our home and native land.
I acquitted myself well, surprising myself with two goals and two assists. I’m not so good in the open floor, but can really scrap in the corners and along the boards. As a result of our epic battle, I have a few floor burns on my elbows and knees, coming mostly from the victory dance and celebration of my first goal (ever) that had me sprawling/sliding along the gym floor in skin-screeching glory.
Such are the battle scars of sporting greatness.