When you arrive, you can hear them before you can see them 鈥 the hollow knock of mallets against boards, the skidding of tires, and the slap of plastic balls ricocheting across cement. As you approach the rink, the lights hum overhead and the players zip past in a blur. On rookie nights, extra bikes and mallets wait off to the side, ready for anyone curious (or brave) enough to try. Two hockey nets mark each end of the rink. There鈥檚 no clear leader, but everyone seems to know the drill: welcome in the new folks.
Ever since I was 12, I had been telling myself that people would always judge me for being myself. But what if I was the one judging them?
Ever since I was 12, I had been telling myself that people would always judge me for being myself. But what if I was the one judging them?
I sat on the bench, feeling nervous and fully aware of how much I didn鈥檛 know. I鈥檝e been cycling for years 鈥 the kind of rider with too many bikes and not enough storage 鈥 but I鈥檓 also incredibly klutzy, which is probably why I spent the last eight years putting off the one sport I鈥檝e always wanted to try: bike polo.
This summer, I finally crossed it off my bucket list 鈥 not because I got any more coordinated, but because I decided to stop letting fear keep me from fun. Thanks to rookie nights hosted by Bike Polo 色色啦, I found the sport to be far more accessible 鈥 and way more enjoyable 鈥 than I expected. I left without a scratch, and with new skills, new confidence, and a few new friends too.
Ansel Schmidt, an organizer with Bike Polo 色色啦, throws players mallets into the air before a game. Whichever mallets land closest to each other, make up a team.聽
Nick KozakI鈥檝e always felt that there鈥檚 a special kind of magic when public spaces are designed for nighttime use, giving people 鈥 especially young people 鈥 a safe place to congregate. 色色啦鈥檚 Dufferin Grove Park is one of my favourite examples.
The park boasts a skate park, wading pool, pizza ovens, basketball and tennis courts, fire pits, and an outdoor ice rink that, in the summer, becomes a bike polo player鈥檚 dream 鈥 complete with bright lights for playing late into the night.
Across 色色啦, summer skates keep hockey alive 鈥 with sweat-soaked gear, late-night games, and a season of unexpected camaraderie.
Across 色色啦, summer skates keep hockey alive 鈥 with sweat-soaked gear, late-night games, and a season of unexpected camaraderie.
I arrived with mechanic鈥檚 gloves for padding and my well-worn helmet. Most regulars wore hockey gloves and knee pads. I borrowed one of the club鈥檚 bikes and a mallet 鈥 a metal stick topped with what looks like a plastic can of beans. One end scoops, the other hits, letting you guide the ball much like a hockey stick and puck.
Steel Steeds
Mallets hang from the fence at Bike Polo 色色啦’s Rookie Night at Dufferin Grove Park.
Nick KozakIn traditional polo, players ride horses. In bike polo, your 鈥渟teed鈥 is a stripped-down bike with straight handlebars and only a front brake. No rear brakes means faster maneuvering, but also more risk. Brake too hard and you might fly over your handlebars 鈥 but get it right, and you can swing your back tire around sharply to reposition mid-play.
All mallets in
Participants before the start of a game at Bike Polo 色色啦’s Rookie Night at Dufferin Grove Park.聽
Nick KozakThere鈥檚 no draft here. Instead, one person tosses players鈥 mallets into the air, and whichever land closest become a team. Half the fun is trying to find yours afterward 鈥 especially if, like me, you borrowed one and forgot what it looks like. Seasoned players鈥 mallets are decorated with stickers, tape, and marks from games past.
Games are three-on-three. Teams line up with one wheel touching the boards, and the ball is placed in the centre.
Marco... Polo!
Before the game begins, one team calls 鈥淢arco!鈥 and the other shouts 鈥淧olo!鈥 鈥 then it鈥檚 a mad dash. One rider from each team races to the centre to claim the ball. If you’re lucky, you get there first. If you’re really lucky, you don’t crash into each other.
There鈥檚 a knack to sprinting while holding a mallet, and a rule that your foot can鈥檛 touch the ground. Ever.
I met new people, deepened an important friendship and counteracted modern digital despair.
I met new people, deepened an important friendship and counteracted modern digital despair.
Dab? Tap in.
Balance is key in bike polo 鈥 and not just to stay upright. If your foot touches down (called a 鈥渄ab鈥), you have to pedal to the rink鈥檚 centre line and tap your mallet on the boards before rejoining play.
I was a frequent dabber in my first game. But eventually, I got the hang of hopping my bike into the air to stay upright, using my pedals like a springboard and white knuckling my handlebars.
Dan Halpert goes for the ball against an opponent (holding the yellow mallet) named Percy White at Bike Polo 色色啦’s Rookie Night at Dufferin Grove Park.
Nick KozakWhat helped most was the energy of the group. There鈥檚 no ego in this scene 鈥 just encouragement. No one minds if you miss the ball or bump into someone. Everyone鈥檚 here to play and help each other improve.
Some riders stop in for a single game, others stay for hours. Friends show up just to watch, cheering from the bleachers and shouting tips to both teams. Even passersby get invited in. One group of teens took a break from skateboarding just long enough to get heckled (gently): 鈥淐ome join us and try!鈥
鈥淲e don鈥檛 know how to ride bikes,鈥 they shouted back.
鈥淚t鈥檚 rookie night!鈥 the players hollered. 鈥淐ome try!鈥
In one game play, as I tried my hardest to square off against another player, keep my feet off the ground, my bike stable, and still have time to reach for the ball, I could hear seasoned players shouting encouragement: 鈥淪tay up, stay up, stay up!鈥 It was just enough to keep me going. I didn鈥檛 get the ball, but I didn鈥檛 dab either 鈥 and honestly, that felt like a win.
At one point, I found myself barreling toward a cluster of bikes in the corner 鈥 but instead of freezing up, I realized I was smiling. I wasn鈥檛 worried about falling or messing up. I was just in it, amused and focused, surrounded by players I barely knew who already felt like teammates.
There were arms in the air to celebrate slick moves, arms around shoulders to cheer on a good shot 鈥 I even left with a hug one night that felt more like it came from an old friend than someone I鈥檇 just met.
I didn鈥檛 expect to leave with new friends, or to feel so pulled in so quickly. I definitely didn鈥檛 expect to want to come back. But somewhere between the shouting, the dabbing, the late-night lights and the missed shots, I stopped worrying about doing it right and started having fun.
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