You hear the sharp snap of the puck smashing the poplar plank. Look how the cast iron piece now sits a few millimeters from the small one. Magnificent. Perfect shot. Any Sunday player would gloat to the point of boasting of being the new champion of Brittany in the discipline. Sorry, world champion. With a shot like that, for sure, the game is in the pocket. However, the next blow, everything collapses. An opponent does better. Hat. But the perfect puck player does not give up. Never. He goes back to attacking the board.

There you go, that's the puck. A game of skill like a good-humored shooter requiring a bit of bad faith and a lot of relaxation. Decades that it lasts and continues in Brittany. Ask a sociologist, he will tell you that this is a tool for Breton social ties. Another will outbid the “strong” identity character of the discipline. A choreographer would even be able to decipher throwing the puck as a dance. We can say everything about this game. That's what we did.