Superstitions

I am not at all superstitious in everyday life.... but when it comes to hockey, particularly playoff hockey, then I have a bunch of quirky good luck superstitions.  The big one, that I've adhered to for years, is that it is unlucky to wash your hockey gear during the season.  So, I start out the season with nice clean gear and as it wears on, my stuff gets stinkier, and crustier.  For those that don't play hockey, there are several pieces of protective equipment that can not be washed....  helmet, gloves, elbow pads, skates, to a name a few.  But jerseys and socks, along with under shirts, shin pad liners, and a few other items do see the wash once and a while.  This past season ran so long with 30 regular season games and then a 12 game run through the playoffs.  My stuff is pretty disgusting now...!  I have to make a point of remembering to wash it before the summer season starts in a week or so.

Then there is the playoff beard.  When the playoffs start, the shaving stops....  This is a common tradition and superstition that a lot of players, even professionals follow.  With the long playoff run my beard got pretty scruffy looking after over a month of not shaving.  I couldn't wait to get rid of the itchy thing as soon as we won the championship.

A day before the playoffs started Margarit and I went to see Matthew Good at the Starlite Room.  They put on one of those hospital like wrist bands when we entered the venue.  The next day the playoffs started, and I noticed that I still had the wrist band.  I left that thing on for the entire playoff run, to much teasing and jabbing by my teammates.  By the time we won the championship it was just a tattered mess and almost fell off.  But I kept it on until the very last game, thinking it brought us luck.

Finally, there was the Old Number Seven ritual during the championship round.  I brought a mickey sized bottle of Jack Daniels Old Number Seven to the first game of that round.  I passed it around to all the guys before the game, and we won, and then we finished it off in the dressing room after.  So, I repeated the process in the second game, and we won again.  I brought yet another to the third, and we lost, but I've convinced myself that this was more to due with the poor officials, than the bourbon.  So I brought one more to the what would be our last playoff game, and the rest is history.