Holiday on Ice
The young Batty striking his signature pose, circa 1957, Bohanon Park, Minneapolis
One of the post-Christmas rituals I had to endure when I was a child was trekking to the park, going into the rickety wooden warming house (with a wood stove!), lacing up and donning ice skates, then going out on the ice rink and falling down. I did this for several years, the result was always the same: Pain. Pain from landing hard, pain from the cold, pain from the various cruelties committed to me by my peers in what were common practices at the time. I guess that is why I never got into hockey. Later, when I was older, I tried to follow pro hockey but the one game that I did manage to watch all the way through reinforced my earlier opinions.
Now that I am old and brittle, I have an excuse for opting out.
No hip replacements for me.