The Good Old Hockey Game

17 Oct 2005

It was Saturday. I was still feeling strung out from lack of sleep. There was a hockey game though. There were tickets. Montreal was hosting Toronto. I had to go. I had to be there. It was my first chance to witness in person one of the greatest rivalries in professional sports.

So I went. All strung out from lack of sleep. Finding it hard to breathe and sometimes even stand on the hot and crowded subway. Light headed in more than a few ways I found my way to my seat. I sat and took in the atmosphere. The Bell Centre, at long last. I had finally found a reason to go. It wasn't as legendary or fabled as the old Montreal Forum, which in death was reborn as a movie theatre and shopping centre.

I went on a good night. It was a special night. They were retiring numbers from famous players from years past. There was a magic in the air. A palpable sense of awe throughout the crowd as the three gentleman warriors stepped out onto the ice. A wave to the crowd. One last huzzah before slipping away back into the long dark night of fading memories; the place where heroes go when there are no more dragons to slay.

It was loud. It was spectacular. In all ways it was almost holy. From the cheap tasting nine dollar beer to the streams of curses and swearing from the drunken fans around me. It was wonderful.

I went with a friend of mine to the game. As we were walking through the masses of people. Husbands in red, Canadiens fans; wives in white, Toronto fans. Even before the game, the fans jeering and yelling at each other. Battle cries and ancient cheers. You can feel the atmosphere dripping with the history of it all. So many games over so many years. So much blood, and heart and so many tears spilled in the name of what so many call just a game. I looked at my friend and smiled as I said “These are my people. More than gamers, more than geeks, more than movie nuts. More than anyone else, these are my people.”

Hockey is so much more. It is a way of life. It is a culture. It is the last bastion for warriors with a sense of honour and a need to prove themselves. It is a great sweeping passion that takes hold of you. It is also not for everyone, but everyone should try it.

The game was wonderful. How often does one get to see living legends and legends in the making? Legends like Belfour and Lindros, doing what they do best. The hits were big, the shots were hard. The crowd was wild and loud. Every time that Lindros touched the puck they entire arena booed at him. He is a man who offended the entire french-canadian culture, and yet, they still love him in some way. They still cheered when he scored. He's a living legend after all.

When it was all over. When all had been said and done. Toronto skated away with the win. The building cleared and the streets of the city filled with fans. They yelled at each other. They analyzed the game. What went wrong? What went right? One fan in particular stands out in my mind “That's three wins! We might win the cup this year!”. As a fan of the sport you just smile and nod. You take it all in and tuck it away in that special spot that the best memories go. It becomes something you can look back on in your latter days and muse about how great it was.