Tomorrow is always a unique day for many in Canada. Its NHL Draft day. As in National Hockey League for you non-hockey types, which means all of you.
Like most boys growing up in Canada, we all wanted to play professional hockey. I was no different. My brother and I would practice in our basement, putting on old stinky equipment my Dad had lying around the basement, and shoot a million shots at each other like the pros. We both fancied ourselves as quite good street hockey players, able to fire the ball (in lieu of a puck which was way to hard to play with in the basement) all over the play, much to the chagrin of our parents who worried windows would be broken and walls dented. While the existence of a piano caused some logistical challenges, some of our best saves resulted in a few wall dents, but nothing the repositioning of the couch could not hide. Plus, our mock hockey fights were epic, though less so for my brother who never won.
I never played organized hockey as a kid growing up. Hard to believe, given the passion most Canadians have towards the game. We were too busy doing other Canadian stuff like pronouncing words funny (its r-oof, not r-uuuff), heating the igloo and frying our back bacon with maple syrup - very tasty on a cold night by the way. My Dad figured waking up at 4am to trudge our sorry butts to hockey practice and fork out $500 per kid was a bit too much. Instead we played soccer. Less likely to get injured playing soccer, unless you are my brother, who broke a collarbone, wrecked an ankle and other sorted issues. I apologized every time ;)
As an adult, I get the high cost of sports and the parental commitment, but as a kid, you kind of learn to adjust. I would tell my friends I was more focused on other sports or girls, which was a blatant lie, since I really wanted to skate and show my awesome hockey skills. The hockey culture is so strong that in elementary school, all kids were sent to skating lessons. Not sure if every school did this, but for us, it was like Christmas, since all the kids would practice flailing around and falling at top speed. Most snow attached to your body after you wipeout wins. Then get free hot chocolate at the end. Bonus! Somehow, my brother got a better grade than me. Something about him stopping without the use of body checking another kid. Now why would you want to do that?
So fast forward 30+ years, and while I've since played a wealth of recreational hockey (aka Beer League hockey), the chance to skate with the pros still eludes me. I watch the draft wondering what it would have been like to have heard my name called. With my luck, they would have mispronounced it, but hey, we're Canadian, everything sounds funny here.
Like most boys growing up in Canada, we all wanted to play professional hockey. I was no different. My brother and I would practice in our basement, putting on old stinky equipment my Dad had lying around the basement, and shoot a million shots at each other like the pros. We both fancied ourselves as quite good street hockey players, able to fire the ball (in lieu of a puck which was way to hard to play with in the basement) all over the play, much to the chagrin of our parents who worried windows would be broken and walls dented. While the existence of a piano caused some logistical challenges, some of our best saves resulted in a few wall dents, but nothing the repositioning of the couch could not hide. Plus, our mock hockey fights were epic, though less so for my brother who never won.
I never played organized hockey as a kid growing up. Hard to believe, given the passion most Canadians have towards the game. We were too busy doing other Canadian stuff like pronouncing words funny (its r-oof, not r-uuuff), heating the igloo and frying our back bacon with maple syrup - very tasty on a cold night by the way. My Dad figured waking up at 4am to trudge our sorry butts to hockey practice and fork out $500 per kid was a bit too much. Instead we played soccer. Less likely to get injured playing soccer, unless you are my brother, who broke a collarbone, wrecked an ankle and other sorted issues. I apologized every time ;)
As an adult, I get the high cost of sports and the parental commitment, but as a kid, you kind of learn to adjust. I would tell my friends I was more focused on other sports or girls, which was a blatant lie, since I really wanted to skate and show my awesome hockey skills. The hockey culture is so strong that in elementary school, all kids were sent to skating lessons. Not sure if every school did this, but for us, it was like Christmas, since all the kids would practice flailing around and falling at top speed. Most snow attached to your body after you wipeout wins. Then get free hot chocolate at the end. Bonus! Somehow, my brother got a better grade than me. Something about him stopping without the use of body checking another kid. Now why would you want to do that?
So fast forward 30+ years, and while I've since played a wealth of recreational hockey (aka Beer League hockey), the chance to skate with the pros still eludes me. I watch the draft wondering what it would have been like to have heard my name called. With my luck, they would have mispronounced it, but hey, we're Canadian, everything sounds funny here.
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