Tuesday, Oct. 10, 2006 | 7:23 a.m.
Las Vegas Sun
By Ron Kantowski
If there is a generalization to be made of the players who skated in this weekend's USA InLine Cup hockey championships at the Las Vegas Roller Hockey Center, it's that most seemed to enjoy themselves, most could swear like sailors (even the girls) when provoked by a high stick or wayward elbow and most, judging by the way they tapped their sticks on the make-believe ice while rolling down the slot, thought they were wide open for a centering pass.
With their wire face masks concealing gap-toothed grins and sporting enough body armor to make a solider in Fallujah, Iraq, envious, it was difficult to distinguish one player from the next.
Except for one. Of all the players I saw, only one rolled down the slot with his wheels arranged in fours instead of all in-a-line.
I'm not saying that Jerry Ireson's skates are old, but I kept waiting for him to call off the jam. I hadn't seen skates like those since Ralphie Valladares retired from the roller derby.
"Nobody wears quads anymore," Ireson said after his team, The Unknowns, lost 4-1 to Team Excalibur in the finals of the men's 50-over division Sunday morning.
Then again, there aren't many 72-year-olds taking a regular shift with an inline hockey team.
Ireson, a former quality-control engineer for the Ford Motor Co. who retired to Las Vegas seven years ago, has been roller skating since the 1950s. Those boots of his are so old they once had wooden wheels.
In 1956, if you discounted those Thunderbirds with the big V-8s and the porthole windows rolling off the assembly line in Dearborn, Mich., Ireson was just about the fastest thing on four wheels.
He used to rip around the old Arcadia Roller Rink in downtown Detroit at speeds of more than 25 mph.
He made it all the way to the national finals in Richmond, Va., where he was the national runner-up in a five-mile race.
"Lost in a photo finish," Ireson said.
Ireson said in those days, they would put powder on the wooden track to cut down on friction. After five miles, the powder would turn the skaters' hair whiter than a barrister's wig.
These days what hair Ireson has is gray. But he said skating with guys who are young enough to be his sons keeps his wheels turning.
"I don't feel like I'm 72," he said.
If only those skates didn't give it away.
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