Mocky Sweaters

[bottlebugs]

As a Canadian youth we called hockey jerseys "hockey sweaters". No small wonder. I played on
outdoor rinks in the great white north. We needed sweaters. I found my first vintage sweater in a
second hand store in Ottawa's Mechanicsville. It's where my Dad's family grew up; a rough and
tumble neighbourhood during the depression.

I had never seen such a thing. I grew up in the 1960s. We wore real sweaters under our hockey gear. I was surprised to discover that there were two versions; indoor or outdoor. I wanted to collect the
original six of course. It's what I do. I found two more sweaters at a flea market whilst looking for
bottles. The collection was starting to grow.

The next two were found out of town, near the US border. A junk store of course. They were thinner and not geared for outdoor play. Nice examples none the less. They are packed up right now but I can give you an example of what they looked like. The Toronto and the Detroit sweaters were destined for indoor ice. Sigh... Spoiled city boys!

So the story goes that poor old Roch asked his mom for a hockey sweater just like me.
He wanted a Habs sweater but got a Toronto sweater instead. The Eatons catalogue order
department sent him the wrong sweater. What a shameful thing to happen to a small town
Quebec boy. I can certainly identify with that feeling. After all, this was his Christmas present.

I grew up in small town Manitoba, right next to the US border. I suspect the Sears catalogue
department did the same thing to my poor Mom. She gave me a Boston sweater that I
refused to wear. I let my twin have it. I was and am, a Flyers fan. I love Gritty!

Well as my luck would have it, I had the joy of trotting up and down the stairs to the basement
for my dad. Mom had passed and he was in a wheelchair. My old Boston sweater was on the floor
with loads of other clothes that Dad had pawed though. I guess my twin had abandoned it too.
Dad didn't know how to use the washing machine so he was on the prowl for a change of clothes.
I brought it home, because it was mine after all, and completed the original six. By now they were
made of dureen and accurately called a hockey jersey!

 

[bottlebugs]

Curiosity drove me to dig out my old hockey sweaters yesterday. I was pleased to see
my old Boston jersey sitting at the bottom of the box. But hey, something wasn't right.
My memory was of the late 1960s sweater like the one pictured above. I had grabbed
the jersey from my Dad's basement and just stuffed it in a bag to take home. I never
really got a good look at I guess.

Upon closer examination, I noticed that the crest was embroidered and not felt, and it
was much larger than my 9 year old build. My twin played goalie for several years when
we moved to Ottawa. The old Boston jersey was too small for him too I guess. He must
have traded it with another Boston fan so that he could wear it over his goalie pads.

I'll ask him next time we talk but I doubt I'll get a straight answer. Our cousin was
always getting him in trouble back then. We all called him the devil, or mixmaster because
he could stir up trouble and exit just before he got the blame. They had lost my bike,
crushed all my matchbox toys in a shop vice and buried my GI Joe in a time capsule
that remained hidden for years in the furnace clean out in our basement. Gotta love
sibling rivalry!