Friday nights at the rink are my favorites. It's not a league night. There are no refs, no whistles, no score board. It's just a pickup game for whoever wants to show.
Choosing teams works like this. There is a light side and dark side. Folk filter in as they get off work and when you walk in, you take a quick head count of the players already on the floor. If the light side has more players, then you pull a black jersey, or the closest thing you have to it, out of your bag. If the dark side has more players, then you pull a white jersey, or the closest thing you have to it, out of your bag. This is how we bring balance to the force.
I like my black jersey. My white jersey is scratchy and doesn't breathe and is too tight around the elbows. I've been looking for a replacement for an age and have been unable to identify one that I would prefer on the internet.
Easy enough. I sew. I went to the fabric store and asked for jersey fabric. "Not cotton jersey," I interrupted the clerk, "sports jersey." Her brow wrinkled. "We don't carry that." She looked at me like I had asked her for puppy chow or maybe a sledge hammer. Weird... okay. I head to the pattern section. Nada. I figured a hockey jersey would be a long shot but at least a football jersey pattern, right? Nope. On the internet? Not so much.
My conclusion: there does not appear to be a large overlap between the competitive sports contingent and the crafter contingent.
Well, here's one representative on that thin slice of the Venn diagram. I can draft a pattern myself; it's not like this is a major feat of engineering. I finally found sports jersey fabric by the yard online. I only found one site that sold it, but it turns out they're awesome. (In addition to my promptly shipped order, Stylish Fabric sent me a free cloth shopping bag and a tape measurer.)
My new jersey:
Alright, you can laugh if you want, but like the pink tape wrapped around my hockey stick, it keeps the guys on my team from accidentally walking off with my gear.
And it's me.