It is 17 degrees outside. There is a light snow falling, continuing for the past twelve hours. There is a peaceful still around the city of Minneapolis, with an undercurrent of excitement. The lakes are starting to freeze, and the leaves have fallen.
It is a sacred time in Minnesota.
Across the Twin Cities, as well as other cities and towns across the fair north, young boys and girls are starting to reclaim their sweaters, mittens, and hats from a season of storage. Skates are being sharpened, skis being tuned, and snowboards are being waxed. Winter is coming.
Officially, the hockey season began on October 3. While those matches matter regarding statistics, ranks, and standings, the real hockey season is about to begin: pond season. This is a time where one can go outside any day of the week to fresh flooded community rinks, as well as God given pond ice.
I do not pretend to be an elite hockey mind; I never played “Junior B”, and I don’t have the zamboni song memorized. What I do offer is cultural and critical feedback and commentary on what should be known as the International Hockey League. I never saw Gretzky play in person, but I can tell you I would have rather seen Gordy Howe any day of the week.
Whenever your ready, drop the stick and the gloves and tune in to:
The State of Hockey.