Okay so hockey is like, rife with superstitions and ritual.
Each player has their own pre-game rituals, which are honestly on par with religious sacraments. You do not fuck with a man’s pre-game ritual. Also, the inability to practice one’s pre-game ritual is deeply emotionally destabilizing. Like, we’re talking serious repercussions here. If a player is unable to complete their sacred ritual, there will be hell to pay.
Just as famous as Crosby’s famous pre-game plate of spaghetti, or Jack Zimmerman’s pre-game PB&J, is Snowy’s pre-game application of eyeliner. It is not only essential to his game play; it is essential to the current alignment of our space-time continuum.
Which brings us to Snowy, currently in the throes of an emotional breakdown, in seat 15C on the Falc’s bus, clutching desperately to his last remaining tube of La Nuit, Nior de Nior eyeliner as though it were the cooling body of his only son.