Our second hockey game on the new rink. All pix by Lopaka.
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Intramural Hockey - Where even the refs want to be forwards.
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Our team is so old we start sweating while watching the game before us.
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The plastic cylinder of life.
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Part penalty box, part ref lavatory.
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Sean: So...do you guys ever get, you know ... chaffed from your skate? Jeff: God, I thought I was the only one. Colin: I use this foot creme. It doubles as a moisturizer, with aloe and vitamin E and the whole shebang. Sean: Shit, someone is coming. Quick, talk about Ultimate Fighting.
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Billy knew the universe was probably infinite, but part of him still wondered if you could reach thru one end and touch the other. That'd be rad.
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Sean: No, seriously. Pull my stick.
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The team had no issue with Brian touching gloves with his teammates before the game. It was the licking of the glove in-between that creeped us out.
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Colin gets the jump on his opponents.
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Hockey asses.
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Sean streaks down the court, unperturbed by the opposing players, or the weasel let loose in his pants.
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Sean finally gets his moment in the sun against the infamous Naked Goalie of Isla Vista.
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A member of the white team briefly ponders whether or not his designation is racist, and if his participation is an endorsement of oppression.
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Billy (quietly): Don't tell anyone, but I've got mice in this tshirt. If they get too close BLAMO, rodent shower!
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Logan enjoyed shooting at people's groins. We think it was some childhood trauma involving a bully. We didn't ask.

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