STREET hockey was once the stick ball of suburbia. In the Philly suburbs in the early 1970s, it was an after-school sport that lots of kids played.
The Flyers were the rage, and we each had orange and black jerseys emblazoned with our favorite players' names and numbers.
We'd imitate Bernie Parent and Bobby Clarke. And every class bully became the team's Dave Schultz. A guy in my neighborhood took metal from a swing set and made two goals, using sewn-together burlap bags for netting. Goalies had foam-rubber pads. It was teenage bliss.
Long before organized soccer, kids would face off in parking lots, on tennis courts and anywhere there was a lip around a flat surface to stop an errant Mylec ball. Each neighborhood and subdivision had its own loosely affiliated team, and pick-up games were easily hatched without any formal league and were free of adult oversight.
