Skip to main content

Whew!

So, it's all over, that great spectacle of human striving, that culmination of a nation's hopes and dreams, all on the international stage of sport. A showcase of our country, our culture, yes, but moreso a near sacred rite about competition itself.

I'm speaking about, of course, the Men's Olympic Gold Hockey Finals. Oh, we can blather about ice skating this, speed skating that, moguls, boarder-cross, aerials, but it's all just preamble to talk about the hockey. At least in Canada.

And thank god Canada won eh? Not that I'm any massive hockey nut (even though I did follow the hockey and did watch the gold medal round). But my country is. I've tried and failed to think of comparative obsessions, but I'm not sure they quite match. Japan, for instance, really loves ski-jumping. Malaysia loves badminton. New Zealand is tied to rugby. Most countries are frighteningly involved with soccer. And, speaking with American friends, I can't quite find how to frame a Canadians relationship to hockey. It's perhaps like Texas and football. Or Boston and baseball? I'm starting to lose my way, because I'm trying to talk about sport, and unless are talking about Super Spike V-Ball for the NES, I have very little to say with any coherence.

This is a country that cheered most loudly during the Winter Olympic closing ceremonies when the old theme song for "Hockey Night In Canada" played very briefly, in a montage. A country that has played street hockey since forever, ice hockey if they were lucky, and has obsessed about the sport for generations. A country where all sports pale in comparison, fade to the back.

A country that is assailed with messages from the media (or reflected back, I'm not sure which), that hockey is our national game, is our game, is what makes us Canadian, is the reason we trapped fur, made maple syrup, put our policemen in red and insist they be mounted, stormed Juno beach, invented universal healthcare, and speak two languages.

So, yes, I do say thank god we won gold. Because we do care about the sport a helluva lot. Not that Americans don't deserve to win. But you got so many sports as it is; and hockey, while violent and all that, likely doesn't hold a candle to football or baseball or basketball in whatever region you're from. No American newscaster would ever use a phrase like, "As the nation reels from disappointment.." when talking about a hockey tournament, not with a straight face.

But we would.

Oh, we would. There'd be rending of hair and a measureable dip in GDP. A further dip in the birth rate, car sales, church attendance, community involvement, choir recitals, Elk lodge AGM attendance, you name it, it'd feel a dip.

But we won. There was spontaneous honking on at every intersection, waving of flags, a surge in that little felt emotion, Canadian patriotism. Waves of people flooding downtown with maple leaves on sweaters and hats and shirts and painted in sundry places. Canadians being even more friendly than usual.

God we love our hockey.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Insults From A Senile Victorian Gentleman

You SIR, have the hygeine of an overly ripe avocado and the speaking habits of a vaguely deranged chess set. I find your manner to be unctuous and possibly libelous, and whatever standard you set for orthodontal care, it's not one I care for. Your choice in news programs is semi-literate at best and I do believe your favourite news anchor writes erotic literature for university mascots. While I'm not one to point out so obvious a failing, there has been rumour that the brunches you host every other Sunday are made with too much lard and cilantro. If you get my meaning. There is something to be said about your choice of motor-car fuel, but it is not urbane and if I were to repeat it, mothers would cover their children's ears and perhaps not a few longshoremen within earshot would blush. How you maintain that rather obscene crease in your trousers and your socks is beyond me, perhaps its also during this time that you cultivate a skin regime that I'm sure requires the dea...

Cyberpunk 2077

 Like a late 90's webring, replete with link back and hints at an actual relationship with other authors, this is a piece I'd like to say in.. rebuttal is too harsh a term, in reply, to my very long standing internet friend, zompist, where he posts his various gripes with that great sprawling hot mess, Cyberpunk 2077. Now I say hot mess because that's what the internet at large thinks of it, but me, playing on the worringly over-powered computers on GeForce Now, have experienced nearly no problems. Or at least not problems that bother me enough. Keep in mind I'm the Homer Simpson when it comes to critiquing alot of things. I just like, alot of things. Cheap date, as it were.   It might be my hundreds of hours in Bethesda titles and regularly having to look up console commands to debug yet another janked out quest, but it takes a rather large bug to befuddle and begrudge me. Like if a bug repoed my car, maybe, or  told me how much weight I had actually put on during ...

Learn A New Thing...

Man, you really do learn a new thing everyday. There have been a few shocking realizations I've had over the past month or so: -bizaare is spelled bizarre (how bizaare) -scythe is pronounced "sithe", not the phonetic way. Which is the way I've been pronouncing it in my head for my whole life. My entire youth spent reading Advanced Thresher Sci-Fi and Buckwheat Fantasy novels, for naught! -George Eliot was a woman, real name Mary Ann Evans. -Terry Gilliam is American. -Robocop is a Criterion Film. I shit you not . -Uhm, oh damn, just after I post this, I find that, this movie is a Criterion film as well . Maybe I don't know what being a Criterion film really entails.. Alright all (three) readers of my blog, post and lemme know some earth shattering facts you've learned recently.