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It is an interesting, self-psychological experiment to observe my own demeanour in response to the outcome of a particular sporting event. In other words: it’s kind of weird to see how I react to the fortunes of the Habs. It has been 17 years since the only professional team that I have an almost unhealthy allegiance to has gone this deep into the play-offs. There is part of me that cannot quite believe what they have done, and yet part of me that has always felt they could always do this. In all the years that they have struggled between 1993 and now, there has been a nagging feeling that they would return at least this far before too long. While I know full well that my happiness is not actually linked to what 20 or so grown men do on a rink half a continent away, there is a link to a past, a reminder of my childhood, of dreams, and of escapism.
I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Bob Gainey, and as this team does more than most people expected, it is exactly what he has always expected of them since he began the job that he stepped down from a short time ago. This is his team, and I would love to see them do well for him, for themselves, and for the unexplainable mystique of it all. This current squad shows similarities to 1993, but it is also quite different. They have bought into a system, and they believe and play as a team. As much as there is a great deal riding on one Jaroslav Halak, they could not have pulled of two of the biggest upsets of all-time if they did not come together as a complete unit. Regardless of who they are, I admire that in a sports team. There are life lessons there as well – at least I hope.
The self-experiment had an interesting twist today. The sport team I was coaching lost today, eliminating us from contending for the league championship. A person, who heard the result of my game, and knows I am a Canadiens fan remarked that “at least the Habs win balances off your team’s loss.” Without even thinking I replied, “I would pass up the Habs winning if it meant [this team I'm currently coaching] could find success.” I think I really meant it too. Their childhood is now, their challenges and mine are real, their learning of life is in real time. I stand by my response.
In the summer of 2003 when the 2010 Winter Olympics were awarded to Vancouver I had recently returned from a near year away. During that time I had been to Salzburg and witnessed the beauty of what appeared to be an ideal place for a Winter Olympics. Vancouver always has, and always will be the most beautiful, and amazing city to live in, in my tainted opinion, but I was a little bit skeptical about us hosting in 2010. As the years ticked down and the event approached, the skepticism gave way to ambivalence to be completely honest. As one can note, there was certainly little to no mention of the Games on this blog. Many people around me found this interesting, as sport, the culture of sport, cultural connections, and dreaming – all things intricately intertwined with the Olympics – are passions of mine. Looking back, the ambivalence grew not out of spite, disgruntelement, and certainly not out of ignorance. Instead, there was no personal connection. If anything, the aspects of youth sport and physical activity participation that I felt so connected to and involved in were being overshadowed or skewed by the approach of the Games.
On Thursday February 11th my perception changed dramatically. It must have been building before that, but – to steal an overused phrase – it was certainly the tipping point. On that morning some colleagues and I roused ourselves early, walked in the rain, and watched the Olympic Torch go through a local community. I spoke with a torch bearer who was so genuinely enthusiastic that my ambivalence quickly started to wash away. People with flags cheered, horns honked, I snapped photos like crazy, and then I stopped. I clapped, and realized that we are all choosing to do something together here.
Over the next 17 days there was cheering, there was Canada gear, there was a visit from a very close friend, there was taking youth on a special experience they’d never had before and likely never will again, there was time and laughter with my sister, there was watching the opening ceremonies in a small BC community theatre and cheering, there was enthusiastic talk with my parents and grandmother, there were friends being able to show-off their passions to a world audience, there was more cheering, there was lots of photo taking, there were so many languages, and all of a sudden there was a definite personal connection. The city I love and nearly everyone in it had decided to get behind something, and whether they knew it or not, that something was them.
I went to a knock-out round hockey game between Slovakia and Norway. The play, and the connection the Norwegians struck with the fans reminded me of what I personally miss about European hockey. It also showed that Canadians are amazing hosts, and when I jumped to my feet and thanked the Norwegians (and the Slovaks) I did so with thousands of others, and I realized that we have something here, and it’s collective.
My sister and I went to the cauldron when it was still fenced too heavily and a person in a unique position of authority, who had no business helping us, kindly took her camera and got an amazing shot for us. There were smiles, and a connection that it was okay, because afterall this was in our backyard.
I spent an amazing sunny day with an incredible friend and there was consistent statements and proof about what an amazing part of the world this is.
I was with friends downtown to watch the semi-final game vs the Slovaks. We cheered for women’s curling. We roared for gold in speed skating. Then we high-fived more people than I ever had in my life after we advanced to the final. Amongst the tens of thousands I would run into an American with a huge smile and flag and we would congratulate each other and wish for a good game on Sunday. We were all doing it.
I refound an enthusiasm and respect from my teens that I had lost, for athletes who toil away in four-year cycles of obscurity, but are people like you and I with dreams, friends, and personal connections. I was explicitly proud to be Canadian when Bilodeau was humble beyond belief in every word he said. Then when Hollingsworth felt the need to apologise I became honestly sad, and wished I could have told her personally that no one felt let down, and I was personally reminded that sometimes sport can mean too much.
On the last day of the Olympics I was in the same room that I was in when I watched the final of the 1987 Canada Cup, and with the same people. Not having been alive in ’72, that tournament in 1987 still stands above all else in my mind as an incredible moment in not only hockey history, but Canadian history, and personal history. I was so ecstatic when Lemieux scored, and remember the entire sequence of play so vividly more than 20 years later. Then, in 2010, another young Pittsburgh Penguin has the stage set for him. During the first shift Iginla and Crosby had in overtime it was obvious they were going to be the ones. During the second shift they made it happen, and like Hawerchuck’s gritty yet key little face-off win, Iginla’s gritty yet little key little pass led to Crosby’s historic goal. We all jumped and cheered just as we had done so many years ago, and we were all personally proud to be Canadian.
Yet, it would have been alright if he hadn’t scored. It would have been alright no matter what the medal count. Just like we made it an incredible two plus weeks to remember with the memories above, and so many other personal ones you and I had, we would have made it alright, and realized what is truly important. For the most part, as Canadians, we typically have. Perhaps because of that, it was so much more rewarding that it all seemed a success. It’s just important to remember that success doesn’t come from medal counts, or goals, or having the best Games, it comes from our own personal interpretations. It comes from how we feel we were treated, and how we treated each other during our experiences.
Thus, we certainly had an incredible half month of experiences, and now on the eve of the Paralympics I hope there are more to come. When I reflected on how something I was so ambivalent towards had become such a collection of amazing experiences and memories the reason for it all lay in the personal connections that I had during the Games. In the end, it seems to be another example of fortune that this wonderful city, my home, had an event which served as an excuse to do things, and create memories with people I care about. Hmmm, caring about people – I’d like to think that that’s very Canadian.
I came across this piece by Stephen Brunt, and it seemed to have some similar points, but also a bit of a different take. I might not agree with his perspective exactly, and everything in it, but I think it’s a view worth considering as well.
Amongst the fervor it is sometimes difficult to remember that it is just a game…. Okay, niceties aside for a change: it’s the greatest game going, so why not get caught up, and jump into the fervor! Congratulations to the women, the task is now left to the men. Two great Canadian teams, no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says.
So well coached against the Russians, a thing of beauty really. A well executed effort that should have shown anyone how this game is supposed to be played, and that the right players were selected for this team from the beginning. From big plays by the kids, right down to the subtleties that the veteran #27 controls the flow with, it has consistently looked like a good squad, that is only getting better. All that’s left to say at this point:
I will be brief, as there is already too much out there on this topic, and that is part of the problem. Thierry Henry committed a foul in a football game. In the game against Ireland he did not get caught for performance enhancing drugs, he did not go cleats up into a tackle, he did not head butt an opponent, he did not taunt an opponent or official with expletives, he did not premeditate any illegal action, and he did not dive. Henry made an illegal play. He admits that. However, it is utterly ridiculous that people mention his act in the same breath as pre-meditated doping, or intent to injure actions. A game moves so fast, you react so fast, he stuck his hand out, he did not go into that play thinking “I will hand this ball”.
The bigger issue: it has exposed to everyone that we take sport far too seriously. Apparently FIFA is considering suspending Henry for at least a portion of the World Cup, when the correct thing to do would have been to replay the game. But then again, they can’t do that, because that sets a precedent that could get out of control, and they want to maintain a facade of control over something they have purposefully let get beyond them: the fact the spectacle of sport at this level is somehow larger than life. It is just a game. 22 men chasing a ball around a park.
Sport in life is important, it can bring joy, exercise, camaraderie, and give us role models. Yet, it is not important enough to take politicians, journalists, and our thoughts away from what really matters when we get a bit disgruntled, when we want to blow something out of proportion. It is not so important that the character of Henry needs to be stamped upon. He is simply a man, who had a stimulus-response reaction.
Finally, I feel utterly horrible for the referee and linesman. Their careers in sport at the international level are likely finished. What they must have gone through, and be going through is not worth it. Frankly, the sport has let them down, as Wenger explains below. I love competition, I love sport, I get intense, I have made split second reactions like Henry’s that were illegal in sporting competitions. I make mistakes sometimes. I have played sport at a decent level, and continue to coach. I do not dope, I do not intend to injure, I respect my opponents and officials, I work hard, my character means a lot to me. I suspect these statements are the same for Henry, and I suspect they are the same for the officials of the match. The only things is, I don’t play in, or officiate international matches. How are you different from Henry or those officials? Think about that the next time you read, watch, or say anything else about this incident.
I’ve said more than enough, there are many other things we should be focusing on in this world. The resources devoted to this are insanely unbalanced. I will let someone who knows far more about football than I, and a country-man of Henry, tie things up. Get over it – let’s move on – let’s get some balance back.
The ever impressive Jens Voigt took a nasty spill today. It is really quite amazing he is not more seriously hurt. I was rather taken aback when I saw his crash this morning. Jens is an incredible cyclist, a veteran competitor, and by all accounts I have heard, a stand-up athlete who is one of the toughest men in his sport. He did some incredible work to pull himself back to help his team leaders after he was dropped on the last climb today. Then, shortly after going over the top he uncharacteristically lost control and hit the pavement at around 70 km/hr.
Wishing one of my favourite cyclists all the best in his recovery.
In case you didn’t notice, the Tour page was brought back on this blog a few days ago: Tour de France 2009. While I’m a year round cycling fan, I do admit it gets ramped up in July. Rather than totally bore you with cycling posts for this month I just put short updates on the TdF page. That way I can totally bore you with the regular stuff here.
A few days ago the National Post printed an article by Joe O’Connor marking the 70th anniversary of Lou Gehrig’s departure from baseball. The piece expresses how Gehrig’s speech on that day stands as perhaps the greatest ever delivered by an athlete, and one of the finest in American history. It is without a doubt that Gehrig left an everlasting impression upon his sport, and North American culture in general. Residing in Canada, and growing up more than 40 years after he left his game, along with many others, I am familiar with his historical feats and general persona. O’Connor does point out though that he existed in a time where the media kept their distance from cultural heroes, particularly those of Gehrig’s nature. Jean Beliveau would seem to be a similar figure within hockey. Somewhat overshadowed by Richard, as Gehrig was by Ruth, there was (and is) never any doubt about the class that is Beliveau.
I certainly want to believe that figures like Gehrig and Beliveau were beyond reproach and epitomized respect to the utmost, simply because of the kind and classy people they were at the core. However, it should be noted that we now live in a climate that does not foster the untouchability of these icons. Specifically, it is noted a few pages later in the same section of the Post, in an article about Dany Heatley, that we like our sports figures to be good or bad, dirty or clean, wrong or right. We are not comfortable with shades of grey, even though they are human, and like us live in worlds of grey.
The Tour de France began on Saturday as well with one of the greatest sports figures of our time – of any time for that matter – returning to the race that made him an icon. It seems that everyone wants to be either in the Lance is good camp or the Lance is bad camp. What about a camp in between? What about a camp that recognizes a few aspects along a continuum of a man that:
-overcame a disease with courage and aggressiveness that is a model for thousands of people fighting today
-trains with a dedication any athlete could aspire to
-is a father
-is divorced
-likely is the most heavily tested athlete ever
-owes a great deal to genetics
-chose to be very narrow minded in the peak of his cycling career around competitions
-is a teammate who recognizes the efforts of his supporters
-places winning as a priority
-has high expectations
-has s sense of humor
-believes in himself with a certain demeanor (to be interpreted as cocky, or confident, as you will)
All of this does not have to add up to either good or bad. Instead, it just all adds up to Armstrong. 80 years ago we likely would not have known nearly as much about Armstrong. If Gehrig played today, we’d likely now every single detail of his private life. I do not want to lessen in any way the figure that Gehrig is. In the end I just wanted to put out a train of thought that asks about how we keep things in perspective. Before we begin to tear into athletes, like Heatley or Armstrong, lets remember that they likely have many characteristics that Gehrig and Beliveau had. It’s likely that they even have role models like them they try to live up to. However, just like their role models were certainly never perfect, neither can they be. Are we asking for perfection? Or are we asking for reality? Or something in between?
A couple of nights ago I finally got to see a Pepe Danquart documentary that I’ve been trying to find for a few years. It was playing as a part of a limited special run at the VIFC, and it turned out to be well worth the wait. Heimspiel is amazingly well shot and edited. The on-ice action is captured in a unique quality that displays both the beauty and the speed of ice hockey. This film truly wins you over though with its examination of East vs. West in Early 21st century Berlin.
I will write more later, but just wanted to put a quick post out there, and say there is one more showing of this film. Check out the VIFC website for the details
Considering things, it seems a bit odd that I rarely blog about hockey matters, but the time has come to go public with a certain sentiment.
I was just watching OTR on TSN – a program that I do not generally enjoy, or watch for that matter. However, I was flipping channels when I noticed a somber mood in the shows intro. Michael Sanderson, father of recently deceased Don Sanderson, was being interviewed. I have been around the game for a long time, and known many people who have been around the game even longer, and involved even deeper, but this man’s words about where we should go with fighting were the first I’ve heard to echo my own thoughts exactly.
Fighting no longer belongs in hockey. Mr. Sanderson outright said that it cannot be banned, and that there will never be a way to completely eliminate it. However, for the good of the game, and the decency to recognize where our culture and values need to go, we should make the consequences match the disgrace that is the choice to fight. Even when a player feels he has to, and I’ll sadly agree that there are situations where a player does feel this need – real or not it is felt – it is still a disgrace. I do not feel there is much argument that needs to be made that it is a black mark on the game. Some of the key characteristics of hockey are speed, safe physical play, scoring, tactics, intensity, determination, intelligence. Fighting actually detracts from these. Fighting is a one-on-one confrontation taking away from a team game requiring cooperation in order to compete. For those who say it is a part of the game, and “necessary”, there are three easily observable points:
-the consistently best teams in modern hockey rarely fight (Detroit, San Jose).
-fighting practically disappears come play-off time, and play-offs are commonly referred to as the best hockey.
-the World Junior Hockey Tournament is one of the most watched sporting events in all of hockey crazed Canada. In this tournament fighting results in expulsion and is rarely, if ever, seen.
Expulsions, fines, extra penalities to be served by other players, more rules around equipment – these are all measures that just seem like common sense. There are many quick responses to these suggested changes including: increased stick-work would result, entertainment value drops, self-policing is necessary, and others. Quite frankly I am tired of these arguments. They seem to me to be nothing more than weak offerings to avoid making the difficult, and probably unpopular decision, of instituting and enforcing heavy penalties for fighting. Just because something is difficult, or unpopular, is not reasons enough to avoid it, especially when sense leads one to see that it is the only right thing to do. Just because it might have been socially acceptable at a different time, does not make it right at this point in time. When we try to grasp to outdated social norms that are simply wrong, just because they are comfortable, we appear foolish and prejudice. Doing what is right means thinking about where we are at right now.
Fighting’s time in hockey is passed. Unfortunatley it was too late for Don Sanderson.
On Wednesday evening, the professional athlete who has had the most powerful impact on the city of Vancouver will be honoured. The Canucks will raise Trevor Linden’s number 16, and pay respect to a player who is more than deserving. It should be noted that I am well aware that professional hockey players are professional entertainers, not automatic role models or legends. Additionally, I never was, am not now, nor will I be a Canuck fan. However, Trevor Linden made me respect the Canuck franchise. Because of Linden I now wish the Canucks well, even if I am not a fan. I am a Trevor Linden fan.
It is inexplicable the connection that Linden has with Vancouver. I remember him joining that Canucks when I was in my youth, they were in yellow, and my gosh were they a bad hockey club. The Collesium was known as the mausoleum. Yet, an 18 year old began to change all that, and a city got behind him. He seemed to personify the classic Canadian hockey work ethic, and for Vancouver hockey fans it was a long time coming. It is apparent that every other Canadian professional team had their legend, or legends prior to 1988. Vancouver had to wait, but in the end they got all and more. Trevor has been, and will be, an example of exemplary sportsmanship, leadership, respect, responsibility, and caring. Yes, I am aware there are thousands of people that live up to these high standards in Vancover every day. But, I am also aware as a society and community we still look to athletes as leaders, and Linden was a true leader, off the ice even more so than on it. He lead by placing the priorities first. A whole hard shift rather than one flashy move. Representing all the players before himself. Taking the time to work with numerous charities rather than jet away. Meeting with kids after a game rather than heading to the Roxy. Doing all the little things that create balance even when the big things go off kilter. That is Trevor.
I was there the night he became the Canuck’s all-time points leader (latter eclipsed by Naslund). It was an assist. The arena would not go quiet. I remember the linesman pretending to fix a hole in the ice so he could delay the puck drop. I remember Sakic, the hometown boy, congratulating him, and I remember the infamy of that night being stolen from him by a then team-mate’s inexcusable actions. Linden has never once publicly noted how the other incident completely overshadowed what he achieved that night. Simply, he is class.
One is hard pressed to find a play of his generation that has meant more to the city he played in, and not just from a hockey standpoint. Linden is a leader in the community. When he speaks, people listen, where he goes, they follow. How did this happen? Trevor never got a Stanley Cup, never got an Olympic Gold, never got a World Cup, and was once chased from the city he loved. He fell short of all the top achievements in his sport, and wrongly branded an outsider for a period. Yet, he came back, always put the team first, and never once lamented falling short of the huge milestones in hockey. We all watched this happen. We saw how a hard working teenager grew up under our gaze, giving his all to never quite reach the pinnacle of his sport, and yet never became bitter or corrupted. Instead he only grew more noble and responsible. Perhaps we see him as a leader, because we see in him what we hope for ourselves in this regard, and hope for our children. He achieved this balance of playing the game he loved at a high level, but keeping it all in perspective, regardless of the outcome. He became bigger than the sport, because he realized it wasn’t about him being big, it was about being a better person. He kept it balanced.
