Don't change those filthy underwear

If you grew up on the Prairies playing a sport you’ve undoubtably seen some quirky superstitions, unfailing rituals and, in some cases, irrational routines prior to the game beginning.

I had three superstitions I followed religiously prior to a hockey game. I had to be the last player out of the dressing room, which was difficult at times, when teammates weren’t ready for warm up. I had to hit each post with my stick during the first lap of the warm up. Then, after we took the ice for the start of the game, I was the last player to touch the goalie in a specific pattern before the puck dropped.

Weird—yes.

But not even close to the level of superstition some players, coaches and teams have.

I started thinking about superstitions while watching the greatest ritual in sport during the Rugby World Cup. The nearly two month tournament made for some exciting footy but possibly the most compelling moving pictures from the event occurred prior to the start of every New Zealand game, when the All Blacks, led by Piri Weepu, would line up across from their opponents and perform the Haka, a traditional Maori war challenge.

Now if you grew up playing hockey, instead of rugby, you’ve known for a long time that goalies are some of the oddest creatures on the planet. The word shutout is a definite no-no during the course of a game, as if the mention of the word will somehow inevitable lead to a goal, cracking the goalie’s goose egg.

Patrick Roy use to talk to his posts during the course of a game. Roy said he wanted to make sure the posts were his friends in case a shot was out of his reach, then maybe his new found buddies would bail him out.

Tiger Woods owns the most famous red shirts in the professional sports world. Woods wears red on the final day of a tournament. The color red is based on Thai superstition, symbolizing aggressiveness. Woods’ mother is from Thailand. Essentially it has become his scoring shirt, no word on whether he wore the shirt during trips to Las Vegas.

Baseball might be the sport with the most superstitions. The Curse of the Bambino haunted the Boston Red Sox organization for 86 years, beginning when the Sox traded Babe Ruth in 1919 for a big bag of money. Since the trade the Yankees have won 26 world series, the Red Sox finally ended the curse in 2004.

Wade Boggs may have been the king of the superstitious. Boggs would field exactly 150 balls during fielding practice, only ate chicken on game days, took batting practice at 5:17 and did his sprints at exactly 7:17 prior to games.

Baseball’s version of the shutout in hockey is the no-hitter. During a potential no-hitter, around the sixth or seventh inning, teammates will stop speaking to the pitcher and will leave him looking like a man on an island in the dugout.

And who can forget Nomar Garciaparra. The Red Sox shortstop who would step out of the batter’s box after every pitch and go through a series of adjustments to his gloves, finishing with a couple of toe taps on the turf. The only thing comparable to Garciaparra’s unique routine might have been Sergio Garcia who would re-grip and waggle the golf club several times before finally making a swing. Both players were criticized within their respective sports from opposition who felt they were taking too long to play the game.

In basketball, Lebron James goes through his ritual of throwing talcum powder in the air before tip-off. The superstition is more dramatics than anything, while the oddest basketball ritual might have come from the greatest player of all time. Michael Jordan wore his shorts from his collegiate days at North Carolina under his Bulls shorts for his entire career, believing the shorts brought him good luck.

Some boxers abstain from sex up to three months preceding a fight. In England, national soccer team manager Fabio Capello banned wives and girlfriends from staying with players during the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Jim Leyland might have had the funniest—albeit dirtiest—superstition of 2011, when he decided to wear the same pair of underwear until his Detroit Tigers lost. The winning streak lasted 12 games, slightly longer than the streak in Leyland’s drawers, proving athletes and coaches will do anything to win.

Asham(ed) of his actions-Arron Asham showboats after K.O.

“Classless move on my part,” said Arron Asham.

What Asham was referring to was his actions during a game last week between his Pittsburgh Penquins and the Washington Capitals.

After Capitals forward Jay Beagle got his hands up in the face of Kris Letang, Asham challenged Beagle to settle the score. The fight starts harmless enough, with Beagle throwing a couple of rights that miss Asham. The more experienced Asham isn’t looking to trade, he takes a moment to secure a good hold of Beagle’s jersey before throwing two overhand rights.

The first measures Beagle.

The second puts him to sleep.

Everything up to this point is consistent with ‘The Hockey Code.’ But what happens next is, well, “Classless.”

Asham makes an abbreviated wash signal like an umpire calling someone safe in baseball and then puts his hands together under his cheek to simulate a pillow.

In his defense, Asham seems to recognize his gestures were offside minutes after the knock out punch, tapping on the glass as a show of respect and support when Beagle is helped off the ice by the training staff.

The whole event, which would cost Beagle a tooth and some blood, got me thinking.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Asham turn the lights out on someone. During the 2005 locked out NHL season I was playing hockey in a senior league in Manitoba. The fact NHL players had no place to play meant the league was strong that year.

In most cases, NHL players found other leagues to play in, the result was it put a lot of guys, who were playing professional hockey, out of work. Many returned home to play in senior leagues. But a couple of NHL players—Asham and Marty Murray—returned home to play in the same senior league I was playing in.

Asham to the Oakville Seals and Murray to the Pierson Bruins.

For the most part Asham was disinterested.

And make no mistake, as a team we did nothing to wake him up. Don’t hit him, don’t chirp him, don’t look at him—partially out of respect, but mainly because we didn’t want to give him any motivation.

I did however, have the opportunity to see a young player take a different approach to Asham. This particular player followed Asham around for a couple of shifts giving him subtle jabs with his stick and mouth. Asham ignored him for a time, until it became too much and the next thing you know, “the flippers were off,” to quote Darren Dutyschen.

Much like the Beagle fight, this particular scrap only lasted two punches.

The first punch hit the young kid’s visor, sending it 10 feet straight up in the air.

The second connected with his chin, folding the player up like a lawn chair. A good old fashion yard sale—equipment all over the ice but the guy selling it decided to lay down and take a nap.

Asham certainly didn’t make any obscene gestures that night. He merely skated off the ice.

And I can partially understand the gestures he made toward Beagle and the Capitals. The adrenaline was pumping and Asham was looking to give his team and arena a lift. It was probably hard to contain himself after such a dominant fight—that is until he had time to reflect in the box.

Asham didn’t do the right thing by showboating.

But he did man up enough to admit that he was wrong and for that I give him credit. The incident will no doubt serve as a reminder for any other fighter to keep their composure and give their opponents the respect they deserve. That is until the Asham gestures are long forgotten and some other player makes an idiot gesture.

In a game that is played at such a high tempo with a ton of passion, mistakes will be made. It’s how you deal with those mistakes that reveal what type of person you really are. Asham made a mistake but he didn’t make a second one—he took responsibility, which is all you can ask.