The Good Ol’ Hockey Game

It’s time to talk about hockey.

After the Four Nations Tournament, Canada, Finland, Sweden, and the United States showcased the best that hockey has to offer. Most tournaments matter. But this particular tournament mattered A. LOT. Like, a lot—a lot. I’ve never gotten political on my blog, and I will avoid it this time; however, I am going to say the win for Canada over the USA smelled of demonstration, and patriotism, and unity. It may also have smelled a tiny bit like maple syrup.

We won. It mattered. The victory was sweet. The game was tight. Everyone played well and hard. Each period was fast. The defense was good. Shots on net were pretty equal. At the end of the game the score was 2-2 and we (I speak for Team Canada) had the winning goal about ten minutes into overtime.

My relationship with hockey. A history.

The beginning

As a newcomer from a land of little ice, my dad took me to a Pats hockey game. Nothing speaks welcome to Canada as much as hockey. He was willing to learn. The Pats are our city’s WHL team. Although my dad didn’t know hockey, he knew sports and was so into the game! I was not. I was little, tired and bored. I fell asleep. I remember not watching it and not liking the experience. That was my introduction to hockey. Not great.

Childhood

There were rinks everywhere—formal rinks in buildings, rinks in school yards, rinks in backyards. I learned how to skate but never did learn hockey or foster a love for the game. Playoffs were a time for my parents to fight because playoffs were usually around Greek Easter. Dad wanted to watch, and Mom wanted help with Easter time.

In my teens

Then, hockey disappeared from my radar for years until Mr. Wilde, my social studies teacher, talked about the shot heard around the world in 1972 at the Summit Series, where Canada and Russia played against each other during the Cold War. The way he spoke, I mean, he was always an amazing teacher and a great storyteller, but there was something about this story that was more dramatic. His voice hushed, and his hands made gestures they didn’t normally make. He was recalling history, patriotic history, important history. He was invested and it was clear in his performance.

Adulthood

When I was around 30, my ex took me to a hockey game. Moose Jaw and Regina have a very intense rivalry. I’m basically down for anything, so I went with no expectations. When I got to the “crushed can” (the nickname of their rink), memories of skating rinks I attended as a kid came to mind. The rink was bustling and lively. The smell of rubber, rink burgers, and popcorn reminded me of my youth.

We had seats but stood rink side-right beside the town drunk. Players smashed up against the glass scaring the shit out of me while the town drunk screamed graphic obsenities through the small space between the plexi glass as if he were yelling into a loudspeaker. The entire experience was a full-senses experience like a fun house at the fair but it was a hockey game with a town drunk! I was hooked.

Fostering the love of hockey-finally

I attended Pats games in my city, sometimes on my own, and sometimes I’d take my niece and nephew.

I met a man who loves hockey. This is how that first conversation went:

Me: I love hockey.

Him: Great! I love hockey!

Me: Cool!

Him: Who’s your team?

Me: Team? I don’t have a team.

Him: (Blinks at me. Awkward silence.)

Me: (Breaking the silence.) I just love hockey.

Him: Oh. (Looks disappointed and confused).

Me: Who do you cheer for?

Him: The Bruins (Like he’s announcing it).

Me: Okay, then. That’ll be my team. It’s settled.

And it was. I went to a game with a friend to see the Bruins play the Jets in Winnipeg as a bucket list item. We won. I can say we because I was officially a fan of the Bruins now. Then I went to Edmonton with the same friend to see them play the Oilers. We won again.

I convinced my partner to do a short trip to Winnipeg to watch the Bruins play. We’ve gone several times. I own a jersey. I own a cup coosy. I notice the logo from a mile away. I know I’m a rookie fan and don’t fully understand the game but I love the intensity of it and the quickness, skill and strength. It’s fast and strategic- faster than football and a different kind of strategy. Football fans don’t come at me. It’s just my opinion.

Winning the Four Nations tournament was a moment I’ll remember. My heart was palpitating. It was time of patriotism that only a Canadian hockey fan feels. I’m glad that I have bought into this sport, to a thing that feels originally Canadian and seen as such around the world.

I will end with a great big cheer—GOOOOO!!! CANADAAAAA!!

As always, thank you for reading, Lovelies.