The Team May Be Gone, But the Hat Persists

BOULDER, Colorado -- As soon as the temperature starts to approach freezing, I dig into my closet and dig out something that has become the most ubiquitous part of my winter wardrobe for the past six years - my Sibskana hat.

It's starting to look a little worse for wear, and I have thought about perhaps trading it in for a newer blue model. The team has not been called "Sibskana" for several years now, but after the name was changed to "Baikal-Energia," angry fans began shouting one of my favorite cheers to voice their displeasure:

"Байкал - это отдых, Сибскана - хоккей!
Верните нам нашу команду скорее!"

["Baikal is vacation, Sibskana is hockey!
Give us our team back quick!"]

I don't think fans shout this quite so much anymore, but scarfs and hats emblazoned with the old green and white logo are still a common sight at games in Irkutsk. And I'm proud to hang onto mine.

Sibskana really was a wonderful name, as it spoke to the roots of the sport. It was a thoughtful name that showed respect for the game and avoided associations both with old Soviet-style club titles and with commercial sponsorships. "Sib" stood for Siberia, a region that boasts some of the best bandy talent in the world, and "Skana" was short for Scandinavia, the other hotbed of the game. These are also two places with special importance for me personally; one was my adopted home, while the other is the home of my ancestors. Two regions with long traditions and very different styles of play, commemorated in the name of the club.

But now the hat has gained new meaning for me.


As I noted in a recent post, the winter months are still a long way off, but I decided recently to dig out the hat a bit earlier this year when someone very special to me mentioned it. The hat often becomes a conversation piece, especially if I happen to meet someone with a knowledge of Russian. Even to a native speaker, the word is a bit difficult to decipher, as it has absolutely no meaning to anyone unfamiliar with bandy. So I inevitably have to explain what the word is, where the hat came from, and what the hell this odd sport is that I play on a giant sheet of ice. This usually devolves into me singing various Russian songs and shouting the names of my favorite players (most of whom have now departed).

I had such an encounter a few months ago, and thankfully, that conversation has turned into something very special. That person just said to me, "I am so grateful to your Russian hat for introducing us. Thank him for me, okay?"

So, here's my thanks to a hat that has accompanied me to a lot of places, and will continue to do so for a long time to come. I just hope that I can take it back to Irkutsk sometime soon to cheer on the team that will always be "Sibskana" to me.