A Windy Day in Cottage Country Watching Canada’s Juniors
Hodgson Leads All Scorers After Two Games … I Think?
By Terrance Gavan
So what prompts Canadians to tune into an absolute blowout on a Sunday – the Canadian Juniors beat Kazakhstan 15-0 in case you missed it - while bits and pieces fall off their roofs, trees litter their driveways and brownouts force endless reboots of their satellite system?
Junior hockey my friends. The World Championships. Well, that’s my excuse. What’s yours?
Yes, I kept watching as a foundation-rattling 130 kilometer-per-hour gust engendered a fingernail on chalkboard creaking crescendo that told me my roof capping was attempting to dislodge from the peak of the humble abode here on Halbiem Crescent.
I did what any normal Canadian hockey fan might. I looked out the front window to gauge wind direction and then sauntered calmly to the appropriate side window to see if any parts of my roof had dislodged to the neighboring yards. I pulled out binoculars, figuring that shingles would be well on their way to Head Lake by now, trailed inevitably and inexorably by the slightly heavier and less aerodynamic capping.
All clear. For now at least. No, I did not go out to the backyard to assess damage. That would have ruined the karma and disrupted the overall chi. My serenity must remain intact. I had a game to watch.
And besides, the cap was still up there. I could hear it flapping, fluttering and floundering with what I can only assume was an insouciant nonchalance in the galloping gale.
Oh whoopee! Lookee’ here! Canada scores again. It is now 7-0 and I am excited, but the classy Canadian players stopped showing any emotion shortly after scoring the fourth goal. It’s borderline embarrassing. This shellacking of Kazakhstan a lamentably undermanned and plodding opponent.
In fact, look closely enough, through the flickering circuitry of the sepia-tinged browned-out picture, and I can almost see cringes on the faces of the young Canadian players. These are kids accustomed to playing close-quartered, competitive hockey, and it’s becoming obvious that they are not fond of this knife’s twist.
The announcers on TSN feel the same. Bob McKenzie, Pierre McGuire and that other talking head from THE network will put the boots to this dead chestnut mare ad nauseum, ad infinitum and ad libbily throughout the course of the telecast.
McKenzie says cut the field from 10 teams to 8. McGuire says the tiebreak mechanism, which dictates that goals for and against decide who stays and who goes in the event of an equal distribution of wins and losses, must be reassessed. The peanut boy in the catbird seat calling the game says, “Wheee, lookee’ here, Canada scored again! Whattaya’ think about that Pierre and Bobby?”
They said this many, many, many, many, many times. Notice how many times I wrote many? Notice how annoying it is? Well that’s how annoying Bob and Pierre were, rumbling on about this and that and the IIHF and how if they were running things it would be so much better.
Go to eight teams. Go to six teams. Go to two teams. Have a fifty-fifty draw. Go the Playstation 3 route. Armwrestle for it. Find a new tiebreak system. Summon a tarot card reader. Call on the ghost of McKenzie King.
They said this many, many, many … well you get the idea. But they didn’t offer a solution.
I have one. Draw to the button. Three shooters, three pucks from each team. Start behind the net. Closest puck to center ice wins. The Canadians could hold a spot on the squad for a junior curling phenom from Porcupine Falls, Manitoba. Lovely, problem solved. Now, can we get back to hockey?
Another huge gust heaves rudely past my window. A Hereford cow with a slightly befuddled look on its already moony face is being pushed across the open field outside my house, at times airborne and sliding on those cloven blades over iced tundra at about 35 clicks. It’s very impressive, because I didn’t know cows could skate, until now. I watch as he disappears over a hillock on his way to Head Lake and beyond. I find myself singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and clicking my heels. Then, I am suddenly aware of another flickering in the room.
Pzzzt! Power out yet again. Just 20 seconds later, the lights are back, and my answering machine is talking to me. “Please reset your phone to the default mode,” it says. I have no idea what the default mode is so I ignore the feminine voice. I look around as clocks start blinking 12:00 … 12:00 … 12:00 … well, you get the idea.
Back to the game. Canada has scored again while my satellite was stuttering to recovery mode. It is now 10-0 and the cackling commentators tell us that we are now in double figures.
I’m not Einstein fellas, but I don’t need you to tell me that 9 is one digit and 10 is two digits. I find myself wishing that Howie Meeker might suddenly appear. Alas, poor Howie, a hockey commentator from the old school, who could always be relied on for a rousing round of “Golly-Gee’s.” I loved that man. Where is he anyway. Can a fella’ get a Howie in the house? Bob and Pierre, they try, but geeez’, they’re no Howie Meeker.
I googled Howie and found that he was a Progressive Conservative MP for three years in Waterloo back in 1951 and he did this while also playing hockey for the Leafs. Here’s an idea. Let’s get Howie back on TSN and while we’re at it why don’t we run him up the flagpole at the next Conservative leadership convention. Howie Meeker for Prime Minister. Golly Gee, that’s a helluva’ good idea.
My musings are interrupted by yet another window rattling gust followed by a horrendous snap, crackle, and pop.
A large tree has been pulled up from its roots and is laying across my driveway. Limbs are scattering in the breeze.
At about the same time the power fizzles again. It comes right back. “Please reset your phone to the default mode,” the lady in the phone says. Clocks are blinking and my satellite is telling me that I have to wait while it searches for the satellite. Could the wind have blown my Bell satellite off course? I hope not. I have a game to watch.
The power back, I am told by the twittering TSN magpie that the score is now 12-0.
A TSN fact checker is perched over a laptop googling “Canada’s biggest point spreads.” There are two categories here. Biggest shutout wins and biggest overall point spreads.
The numbers come and go.
Outside my window I watch as Minden’s Home Hardware sign glides serenely past my front window. It’s moving much faster than the Hereford Cow. It’s cartwheeling at about 46 kilometers per hour. I do the math. I’m exactly 23 clicks from Minden, so it took this sign exactly 30 minutes to get here. Wheeew. That’s some pretty high-speed advertising.
I watch it somersault its way to Head Lake. I pull out a calculator and figure that it should arrive in Bancroft by midnight. I suddenly remember the cow. Should I phone the OPP?
“Hello 911, can I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to report a flying cow.”
“Sir you know there are rules against making crank calls on 911? The penalty is a $10,000 fine and a year in jail.”
“Well, then, Officer. Just calling to wish you all a happy New Year and to say you’re doing a great job.”
Suddenly I am aware that the hockey game is over. The IIHF mandates that a player of the game award must be handed out to members of both teams.
I have no idea who the Kazakhstan player is, but I can see that he is more than a little sheepish about receiving a trophy shortly after a 15-0 crunch with destiny.
They must also play the Canadian National anthem. It’s tradition. I am hoping that there’s a 10 second version. But no, on and on it drones. The score is left on the ScotiaBank Place clock for the duration of the anthem.
I suddenly remember that I was tuned in with the idea of following the fortunes of Haliburton native son and cottager Cody Hodgson. I listen to the post game patter and realize that while Hodgson scored two goals and 2 assists in the game, I didn’t manage to actually see any of his points.
Between power fizzits, meandering cows, cartwheeling signs, rooftop ratchets and that crazy lady in the phone I have managed to miss all of Cody’s points.
So I twittered the game and finally filled in some holes. Hodgson played superbly, matching John Tavares’s 2 goal and 2 assists. Jamie Benn was the player of the game on the strength of his hat trick and one assist.
Pat Quinn did his best to enunciate, better than Bob or Pierre, why a team must go out and just keep playing.
“We started to do the nice pretty wheels and turns and drop passes and things when you're playing strong opposition, it can kick you and bite you,” Quinn said, in a radio interview. “We all know skill is very important, but when you come up against a team that also has skill, then you'll win the game with what's between your ears and how you discipline yourself.
“When it gets tough, you have to be tough.” Howie Meeker couldn’t have said it better.
Canada's score against Kazakhstan wasn't the most lopsided in the country's history at the world junior tournament, but it was close. Canada beat Germany 18-2 in 1985, Poland 18-3 the following year and France 15-0 in 2001.
And of course, while John Tavares is getting most of the ink and the requisite praise, the guy currently leading the charge for Team Canada remains Hodgson. Hodgson is the leading score in the tournament to date with 2 goals and 6 assists in his two games. Tavares and US player Jordan Schroeder both have seven points in their two games.
I will be back watching tonight as Canada plays Germany.
For now, I am heading out to my driveway with a chain saw and a pail of grain. That tree isn’t going to move itself and I see that the dear old Hereford has made her way back to my yard, where she is grazing on some recently rescued patch of grass near the foundation and looking sheepishly (cowishly?) roofward lest a piece of plastic capping fall and bonk her on the noggin.
I couldn’t find the instruction booklet for my phone. If anyone knows how to reset a Panasonic 1680 series digital phone please get in touch with me pronto at sports@countyvoice.ca.
The lady in the phone is driving me bonkers. And I need to call Howie Meeker.n
No comments:
Post a Comment