“Hockey is an art. It requires speed, precision, and strength like other sports, but it also demands an extraordinary intelligence to develop a logical sequence of movements, a technique which is smooth, graceful and in rhythm with the rest of the game.”

Jacques Plante, one of the most iconic and decorated goalminder in hockey history, distilled in these words the philosophical and artistic zenith of a discipline that is wild by definition, and sublime by composition. Like a mountain landscape. Like an outdoor experience, though one encased in shielding glass.

On one side lies collision: bodies clashing, ancestral power erupting from every duel, from razor-sharp blades and sub-zero contact: the extreme. On the other side, the beauty of fluidity, the shared flow of athletic, emotional, and even spiritual expression, all converging toward the ultimate goal: scoring. Toward the highest form of personal and collective mastery. In between stands the deep respect for the opponent, for cultural nuances etched into the ice; and a puck pursued, battled for, propelled toward nets guarded by near-mythic keepers.

Hockey is an art, Plante theorized, idealizing a sporting outpost that has, over time, become a global phenomenon. Marco Sanna, Aldo Pompanin, Jaköb Stoffling, Nicolò Remolato, and Anna Corte Sualon do the same: faces and athletes of what is, in every sense, a devoted community as much as a club of legendary tradition: SG Cortina. 

On the occasion of the special partnership between Italy’s multiple champions, and reigning title holders, and Nike ACG, showcased in all its symbolic power during the game against HC Gherdëina, we delved into their hockey biographies.

The result, this second chapter of our editorial exploration (click here to read the first focus), is a renewed celebration of a special hockey jersey which, during the 4-3 AHL victory after a tense overtime, embodied both the spirit of the Dolomites and the raw allure of ice. 

A kit that spoke to the bond between a one-of-a-kind mountain community like Cortina and its most cherished sporting asset: bridging outdoor culture and the defining traits of an extraordinary stretch of Italian territory with the razor-edged rhythm of the game. In line, after all, with ACG’s philosophy: where team sport becomes a natural extension of the all-conditions mindset.

But this second editorial chapter is also a literary power play—one that amplifies the intrinsic qualities of a sport that, in Cortina, has found its truest and most meaningful home. A convergence of individual visions and instincts that flow into a single score, the rink, revealing its evocative power, suspended between energy, instinct, awareness, and love.

Marco Sanna – Forward and Captain, SG Cortina 

“Hockey is undeniably a form of art. Endurance, explosiveness… On the ice you have to put in everything you’ve got, and coordinate that everything with your teammates. You hit 40 km/h on thin blades, with a stick in your hands. Meanwhile, other bodies are chasing the same puck, ready to capitalize on your smallest lapse. It’s an art because it takes years and years to refine your technique, to execute, or rather, materialize, what you envision in real time. The stick becomes an extension of you, of your hands: you refine your touch with it over time, through constant practice, just like any artist.

I started playing in the early 2000s and, in those very years, because of the NHL lockout, I got to see Matt Cullen wearing the SG Cortina jersey with my own eyes. I wasn’t even ten yet, watching the feats of a three-time Stanley Cup champion. If I have to choose one image that keeps me tethered to the beauty of this sport, it’s him: right here, in the Stadio del Ghiaccio.

Hockey is frenetic. It breathes emotional highs and lows, shifts in confidence and rhythm, both individually and collectively. A game can change in a single second: one penalty, one heavy hit, a player throwing himself onto the ice to stop the puck from reaching the net… It’s a sport of temperament, where self-control has to take the lead. My approach is to never go too high when something positive happens, nor too low when a mistake occurs.

Being a captain means being a constant point of reference. You’re not infallible: no one is in this sport. Especially in my role, you have to recognize your mistakes and find solutions even in drastic moments. You have to give something extra, always, and carry the weight of things: taking responsibility for a particular play or a single gesture that can shift the collective spirit for the better. When you speak, you must be able to command everyone’s attention and, at the same time, rely on them, remembering that the locker room is your pack. A pack you are part of, completely, and one you can grow to love deeply, as is happening this season with an extremely young team I care for immensely.”

Aldo Pompanin – Goalminder, SG Cortina 

“When I think about my relationship with hockey, I think of a smile. The smile I had as a kid when school was almost over and an afternoon of playing was waiting for me. I didn’t want anything else but to get to the Stadio del Ghiaccio and be with my friends, feeling part of a club that carried the name of my town to great heights. I started as a ‘normal’ player until I had to replace our team’s goalminder. I fell in love with the position instantly. When I told my father I wanted to be a goalminder, he ran his hands through his hair in shock, but there was nothing he could do.

It’s such a complicated role… Every mistake shows up on the scoreboard. Goalminders look enormous standing in front of a hockey net, but the truth is different: when you step into your crease, you don’t feel that big at all. Growing up, you become aware of all the variables around you, and you realize the puck is tiny, and it travels over 100 km/h. So anything can happen. You have to know how to skate. You have to visualize the game. You have to track the puck without a single pause. And you have to be consistent, especially in practice. 

There’s no denying that the position comes with a certain aesthetic power. Hockey goalminders are beautiful to watch, because they’re strange: and I am a lover of strangeness. The masks are true works of art: I follow countless social pages of artists who engrave goalie masks. I had one engraved recently; unfortunately, I already cracked it during a game. In the crease, impacts of all kinds and intensities happen all the time: I split my eyebrow just last week… On a personal level, I don’t feel fear, because through habit I’ve come to accept every facet of my role. You grow by stopping shots that keep increasing in speed, until you reach the maximum power I face today. You don’t really notice the transition; what you do notice is that fear is just a limit.

If someone from the outside stepped into my shoes, they’d probably start diving around like in football (soccer), or in so many other sports… In reality, it’s a game of positioning, instinct, and reflexes in a far smaller space. From the stands or on TV, the puck looks almost invisible, but from my perspective it starts from a clear point and comes straight at my body. Its trajectory is more readable than people think. My role is unique, yes, but every role in hockey has its own specificity. Nothing is identical, not everyone does the same things… It’s an orderly and disorderly sport. Often, true skill lies in interpreting the chaos while staying faithful to your tactical duties. That’s another beauty of hockey: finding yourself right in the middle of chaos. You must put yourself on the line, accepting that you never truly know what might happen: even just one pass away.”

Jaköb Stoffling – Defenseman, SG Cortina 

“Hockey, for me, is life. I’ve been playing since I was three, and I’ve learned that yes, to perform at a good level you need strength, speed, power, mobility, and countless other qualities… But the higher you climb, the simpler you must play. With experience, you acquire a new key to reading the game. My earliest hockey memories are tied to Sweden, my home. I used to play on frozen lakes, or even just thin sheets of ice, with my father and my brothers. They’re like slides in a carousel: the sun lighting up the game, the beauty of pure fun. We were on the rink every day, even with my friends. I lived on the rink.

I love the physicality of this sport. You’re allowed to ‘fight’, in the literal sense. But when the game is over, you shake hands with your opponent and that’s it. It’s done. You can hit each other all game long, shout, be extremely emotional… but after sixty minutes, what remains is mutual respect. Every time I see those moments, it’s a pleasure for the eyes. And it doesn’t matter the level: it happens everywhere, from the NHL to Cortina.

Hockey keeps teaching you different things. You have to be solid, to hold your balance when everything around you is chaotic: when you get hit, when someone tries to get under your skin, when you’re losing. Even in a single game, you can learn so much about yourself, and about this sport. Of course, it can be difficult at times, but this kind of mindset, the idea that you can always learn something even from the most challenging moments, acts as a stabilizing force. It certainly does for me. And I see this dynamic reflected in the broader team context as well: if you want to rise from a negative stretch, you have to start talking, start finding solutions through dialogue.

Another major impact this sport has had on my life is the chance to discover and live within new cultures. I’m talking about the rink, of course, but even more about everything beyond it. In the end, wherever you go, everyone has played hockey since they were kids, and the game itself is almost identical: in Sweden, Norway, Italy… It’s the cultural vibe around it that shifts, just like what I’m experiencing here, in Cortina. And I find great fulfillment in embracing new perspectives or doing things differently. I think it’s a big deal for every human being.

The differences between national hockey schools and philosophies lie in tactics or in the general education surrounding the sport, but the core mindset of the teams I’ve encountered is the same everywhere. We all want to win. And to win, in hockey, you must be a collective. You cannot think in the singular, nor be an individualist. Everything orbits around the shared spirit. For me, the wonder of this sport lies in the teammates who cross your path and become friends. And in the simple act of skating on ice. I do it even without playing, it’s a kind of calling. I love that feeling, whether it’s on an iconic rink like the Stadio del Ghiaccio or out on a lake, in the outdoors…”

Nicolò Remolato – Forward, SG Cortina 

“Hockey is a peculiar art for a simple reason: it’s recognized as the fastest team sport in the world, and it’s played on blades only a few millimeters thick. Strength is essential, but it’s your mind that drives everything. We have hardly any time to think: just a few milliseconds to make the right decision… It’s an art form also because anyone can try football, basketball, or athletics and, with effort, succeed at a basic level. In hockey, performing even the simplest technical gestures is anything but guaranteed, starting with staying balanced and pushing on the ice. General coordination, in the middle of bodies moving like trains and colliding with each other, develops session after session. And scoring in those tiny pockets of space… that’s a universe of its own.

My parents were passionate, but non-practicing, fans. I put on skates for the first time at age three, in Bolzano, and half an hour later I was already moving on my own. Or at least, that’s what they tell me. I’ve always been fascinated by the feeling of skating, and by doing it as a team: with friends, with clubs that, especially in this discipline, become second families. As is happening here in Cortina. On the ice you pour every emotion you have, and that’s the most beautiful part. I believe in the effect hockey has on shaping your body, on progressing it, but even more in what it does to your mind. In those sixty minutes you live experiences you end up translating into life. The only difference is that outside the rink you don’t lift trophies or win Scudetti.

When I step onto the ice, even if thousands of people are watching from the stands, I feel nothing. I’m inside the game. I know what I have to do, I know the systems, I’m aware of my role. Shifts are quick, because this kind of concentration, this absolute focus, drops fast… But it’s precisely when tension dips that you must be even more sharp. It’s as if your mind is empty, despite the sheer amount of information you’re processing: I love that state. Then you return to the bench and suddenly your ears open again. It’s not easy to explain the balance between chaos and control on the ice. In hockey you don’t have the time to respond to a perfectly codified play from the other team, the way you do in American football. Or better: it’s extremely difficult to do so. You follow the coach’s playbook, you watch film on your opponents, but then you must immerse yourself in a wild context…

I love everything about this sport. In particular, the moment when the team gathers in a ritual circle before the game, exchanging quick fist bumps: a simple symbol of unity that means a great deal to me. The embrace after a goal has its own power as well, because scoring is incredibly difficult: it’s about tiny details, fakes, sudden changes in blade angle to deceive the goalminder, angles assessed within a single millisecond… These choices come from hard work and repetition far more than talent.”

Anna Corte Sualon – Goalminder, SG Cortina U-19

“My parents have always been interested in hockey. I started playing because my brother was already on the ice: I watched him build real friendships out there, and it inspired me. Since it’s a predominantly male sport, growing up as a girl in hockey felt a bit strange at times, but it was also fun. Even today, when people ask me why I do it, the answer is simple: I play because I enjoy it. I love the feelings I get when my U-19 teammates here in Cortina, or my teammates in Dobbiaco, where I play on an all-women’s first team, stand up for me after I take a hard hit. Feeling the team protect you, even if someone just brushes against you, is thrilling. It’s like an unwritten rule that makes you smile. That makes you feel good.

The crease feels like home to me. It makes me feel safe. It makes me want to defend it. I’m driven by adrenaline more than fear. Fear shows up after the game, when you think back on what you’ve done, but in the moment, while making a tough save, I tend to imagine it as an highlight I’ll want to watch again. And I have to admit: I’m extremely proud of the ‘battle marks’. When I get home, I count them, thinking about the goals they prevented, the plays they stopped… They’re good bruises, the kind that don’t really hurt. When I think about the extreme side of my role, it feels surreal to picture the early goalminders who played without masks, or those first masks that barely protected the faces of the athletes who came before me. If I had been in their place, I definitely would have been afraid. Today, fortunately, we have state-of-the-art masks, safe and beautifully designed. And I’m a full-on fan of hockey aesthetics: every now and then I even choose my sticks almost entirely based on how they look…

Growing up in mostly male locker rooms taught me the difference between actual teasing and genuine moments of team-building. At first I used to get mad about everything; now I’m almost always amused by what it means to share a space with so many boys. My dream for the near future is to keep progressing in this sport, represent the National Team, and take steps abroad: in an American or Canadian collegiate program, or in countries like Sweden, Finland, or Norway, where the women’s game is far more advanced and established.”