I'm not the type to spontaneously attend a major league sports
event. Heck, I don't even watch the little five-minute sports segment
of the local news.
But even I can be persuaded by the prospect of knitters in hockey
jerseys cheering on the Colorado Avalanche; especially if those
knitters are knitting-whilst-cheering, and the knitting is for charity.
So, Saturday night, I grabbed my knitting bag and went off to watch
huge-but-graceful guys push a helpless little puck around the ice. I
was surrounded by 80 knitters, crocheters, and family members. We had
goodies to give away (yarn! magazines! more yarn!), and everyone got a
hot dog so they could properly drip mustard on their afghan squares.
It was a blast. I shouted myself hoarse. (It helped that the arena
had huge screens that flashed instructions: "GET LOUD!" and "SCREAM!"
at the proper times. Being a knitter, I follow instructions extremely
well.) I knitted a square, and dutifully dripped mustard on it, as is
apparently the custom at such events.
Besides
learning about offsides and shoot-outs and icing ("oh my!"), I found
out that one has to be crafty and creative when trying to socialize and
show off one's knitting in a completely packed sports arena. Shouting
works well. And pantomiming is particularly effective.
Alice, for example, just stood and held her completed spooky alien
scarf up high over her head so everyone could see it. Other knitters
passed their knitting on down the row so we all could admire it, and
pet the yarn, and mouth, "It's beautiful!" back at the owner.
The
poor guy next to me, related to a knitter, but not a knitter himself,
deserves some sort of special sports trophy for patience. I pestered
him with questions: "Why is that umpire wearing orange armbands?" and
"How long does the guy who hit the other guy in the face with his stick
have to sit in the naughty spot?" and he graciously answered every
single one. When I offered to teach him a little knitting as a sign of
my gratitude, however, he developed a burning need to go get a
beer...for the entire second period. Poor dude. He did come back,
eventually, and I politely kept my knitting well out of sight range so
he could enjoy the game without feeling too much peer pressure to knit.
All
in all, it was sooo much fun. I really enjoyed meeting folks in person
whom I knew only from the comments, and I had several surreal moments
when I realized that those complete strangers holding up their lovely
knitting and waving it around were in fact waving it around at ME. (I'm
still not used to being recognized in non-yarn-shop public places, like
say, oh, the Chicago O'Hare airport or a sports arena.) The poor guy
next to me finally broke down and asked, "Are you famous, or
something?" and I just nodded and said, "Yep—'or something'." (I badly
wanted to say I was Angelina Jolie, but figured the lack of tattoos was
a dead giveaway.) Oh, and I got to sign my very first autograph. That
was oddly fun. I sat there clueless as to what I was supposed to do,
and finally had to ask the nice knitter what she thought I ought to
write. (We settled on "May life keep you in joyful stitches.")
I
loved getting to see all the wonderful knitting: husbands were wearing
sweaters knit by wives, women were wearing gorgeous things that they
had made for themselves, and Ian, a charming nine-year-old boy, came up
to shyly show me the brown scarf he was knitting all by himself. (More photos!)
Oh, and the game was fun, too. Go Avs! We won, 2 to 1, in overtime.
And we made, and collected, dozens of afghan squares for Warm Up
America.
Methinks the truly good sports were the knitters...so: Go Knitters! You're my home team, and I'm proud to cheer you on.
Find out more information about Sticks N' Stitches events.
Sandi Wiseheart is the editor of Knitting Daily.
What's on Sandi's needles? I cannot tell a lie. I made a big
boo-boo in the Gathered Pullover, and shall be calling Cap'n Frog in
for help. And I'm working on a new Secret Project for Knitting Daily!