I hate that I can never relate this story to anyone, not even Estee without tearing up a lot. This is from a NY Times article about the night Wayne Gretzky retired:
After most hockey games, Wayne Gretzky is a quick-change artist, out of uniform and out of the locker room before anyone else on the team. But yesterday was different, for so many reasons, and Gretzky still wore his Ranger jersey and pants more than an hour after the conclusion of the final game of his brilliant career.
His blue jersey was dark and wet with sweat and spilled water and maybe a tear or two. When asked why he had not changed it, Gretzky first said a few proper things about getting to the news conference on time without making reporters wait in a back hall at Madison Square Garden. Then he leveled.
''Probably, subconsciously, I don't want to take it off,'' Gretzky, the player known as the Great One, said. ''I'm not going to pull it on ever again. It's hard. It's hard to take it off right now. I have to be honest with you. I don't want to take it off."
My day came three years ago. I had to take my jersey off for the last time. I'm no Gretzky but I loved every minute of every game and I just couldn't play hockey with the thirty-year old guys at the level I wanted to anymore. The dance Estee and I are choreographing for my Midwest Pole Dancing Competition entry is about that day. I'm even dreaming about dancing lately.
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