"I don't like my hockey sticks touching other sticks, and I don't like them crossing one another, and I kind of have them hidden in the corner. I put baby powder on the ends. I think it's essentially a matter of taking care of what takes care of you"
About this Quote
A portrait emerges of the greatest scorer in hockey fussing over his sticks like a craftsman over a prized tool. The insistence that they not touch, not cross, and stay tucked away is more than a quirk. It is a woven ritual of stewardship, control, and gratitude. The stick is the extension of the player’s hands and mind; caring for it becomes a way of respecting the craft and quieting the noise before performance.
Athletes often build rituals to tame uncertainty. Small rules and repeated gestures create a bubble of order in a game that swings on bounces and inches. Keeping sticks apart is both practical and symbolic. Practically, it protects tape jobs and blades from nicks and dampness. Symbolically, it draws a boundary around the instrument that will carry the night’s responsibilities. Baby powder on the ends is another marriage of function and psychology: absorbing moisture, controlling friction, preserving feel, and signaling that the work of preparation is done.
There is also a lesson about gratitude. To say, Take care of what takes care of you, is to reject entitlement. It places humility at the center of excellence. The stick does not score by itself, but neither does the player without that tool in peak condition. Respect for equipment becomes respect for the process, and the process builds trust in oneself when the puck drops.
Context matters. In Gretzky’s era, wooden sticks demanded vigilance. Tape was crucial to touch and puck control, and any change in moisture or tackiness could alter the feel. His meticulous habits matched his famously detailed on-ice vision: nothing left to chance, every variable nudged toward familiarity.
The message travels beyond hockey. Musicians polish their instruments, chefs sharpen knives, writers protect their routines. Care is not superstition alone; it is a daily vote for consistency. Greatness often hides in these quiet acts of attention, where reverence for the tools becomes reverence for the work.
Athletes often build rituals to tame uncertainty. Small rules and repeated gestures create a bubble of order in a game that swings on bounces and inches. Keeping sticks apart is both practical and symbolic. Practically, it protects tape jobs and blades from nicks and dampness. Symbolically, it draws a boundary around the instrument that will carry the night’s responsibilities. Baby powder on the ends is another marriage of function and psychology: absorbing moisture, controlling friction, preserving feel, and signaling that the work of preparation is done.
There is also a lesson about gratitude. To say, Take care of what takes care of you, is to reject entitlement. It places humility at the center of excellence. The stick does not score by itself, but neither does the player without that tool in peak condition. Respect for equipment becomes respect for the process, and the process builds trust in oneself when the puck drops.
Context matters. In Gretzky’s era, wooden sticks demanded vigilance. Tape was crucial to touch and puck control, and any change in moisture or tackiness could alter the feel. His meticulous habits matched his famously detailed on-ice vision: nothing left to chance, every variable nudged toward familiarity.
The message travels beyond hockey. Musicians polish their instruments, chefs sharpen knives, writers protect their routines. Care is not superstition alone; it is a daily vote for consistency. Greatness often hides in these quiet acts of attention, where reverence for the tools becomes reverence for the work.
Quote Details
| Topic | Training & Practice |
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