Last Christmas, with my Toronto Maple Leafs clicking along about fourth or fifth in the NHL standings, Matthews netting goals in threes (it seemed) every other night, Ilya Samsonov looking like Johnny Bower between the pipes, and even Sheldon Keefe exuding confidence behind the bench, my daughter gave me a most appropriate gift. It was a Leafs blue T-shirt, complete with logo and an inscription.
“Just once before I die,” it reads. (more…)
For me, Saturday night was one of those “Where were you?” moments. I’d spent the day travelling to and from Brantford and made it home just in time to plunk myself down in front of the TV for part of game six of the Leafs-Lightning first-round Stanley Cup playoff.
I caught the end of regulation time with the score tied 1-1. Finally (because I sometimes watch games on CBC and listen to them on radio simultaneously), I heard Joe Bowen’s call as John Tavares’s shot trickled past Tampa netminder Andrei Vasilevskiy at 4:35 of overtime:
“They scored! They scored! Holy Mackinaw, they scored!” he shouted. “The Leafs are going to the second round!” (more…)
It was an odd place for something meaningful to happen. Last Sunday, a bunch of us trudged into the hockey arena from a chilly morning outside. In our dressing room, bags of equipment were tossed on the floor, but nobody was in any hurry to put on hockey gear. Then, for some reason, we got talking about prostate exams. And initially it sparked a predictable response around the room.
“Well, if I was in that position, I wouldn’t want a doctor with long, fat fingers doing the examination,” somebody said. There was some laughter.
“Unless, maybe it was a female physician,” another said in jest.
Oldtimers’ hockey dressing rooms – since the concept of recreational hockey for men and women over the age of 40 began back in the mid-1970s – are a phenomenon unto themselves. (more…)
He took the pass. He moved around the arc on the floor around the basket. There were four seconds left in regulation time. And all spectators in the building were on their feet, leaping and screaming. At the corner of the offensive end, he turned, jumped and launched the ball.
“Is this the dagger?” one commentator shouted into a mike.
Then, with the ball in the air, the final buzzer blared. The ball landed on one side of the rim, then bounced to the other side, bounced a third time, dribbled a fourth, and then dropped through the hoop. “Yesssssss! Game! Series! Toronto Raptors have won!” the announcer screamed finally. (more…)
Monday night I was driving. I was on the edge of the range of the radio station broadcasting the Leafs-Bruins Stanley Cup playoff game. It was late in the third period. The signal faded momentarily just as play-by-play announcer Joe Bowen’s voice rose in intensity describing an up-ice pass from Mitch Marner to Patrick Marleau. And just before the radio signal dropped out completely I heard Bowen shout out his patented exclamation:
“Holy Mackinaw! What an enormous goal!” With that goal, the Leafs won the game, 4-2. (more…)
I stood in what seemed thunderous chaos. Horses galloped to the right of me, to the left of me. Lances appeared to whisk past my ears. The ground felt as if it were trembling beneath my feet. And I grabbed my dad’s arm, fearing if I didn’t I might topple over. Just audible above the din of the rhythmic panting of the horses and the pounding of their hooves, I could hear singing.
“O Canada. Our home and native land…” (more…)
He wore a baseball cap that had no team emblem and a T-shirt with no sign of his number 81 on it. He smiled for several of the private photographs taken that day; and that was a bit out of the ordinary. Otherwise his visit to Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children went unnoticed even when he opened up a case and revealed – for the children and staff at the hospital only – the Stanley Cup, the one he and his fellow Pittsburgh Penguins had won last spring. And his visit would have gone unnoticed, but for a hospital staffer who tweeted:
“SickKids was buzzing with #StanleyCup fever today! Thx for visiting our patients & families @PKessel81 #NHL.” (more…)
I’ve seen the ones with the blinds closed tight. There are others where the lights are clearly on night and day. And then there are the telltale driveways – particularly after snowstorms – that haven’t seen a car tire or truck tire tread since New Year’s. Their occupants won’t be back until April at the earliest. And they might as well have posted a sign on their houses:
“Gone to Florida for the winter!”
I don’t know whether it’s because the weather has suddenly been normal and delivered us the snow, wind and cold that February and March are generally supposed to. Or, maybe it’s because the March break is just around the corner. But a lot of my friends, neighbours, some of hockey buddies, a few members of my family and a number of my working colleagues have all bailed and gone south. I can almost hear them testing their snorkels or whipping their golf drivers in practice swings. They’re into escape mode. (more…)
I remember the moment, yes, as if it were yesterday. Those of us who were Edmonton Oilers fans back then will always remember. It was early in the third period in Game 7 of the Smyth Division final between arch Alberta rivals – the Calgary Flames and the Edmonton Oilers – in the 1985-86 season. And I remember stalwart CBC TV play-by-play announcer Don Whitman’s call vividly. His surprise and shock spoke for us all.
“Grant Fuhr clears, behind his own net,” he described rather calmly. But then, reacting to Oilers’ defenceman Steve Smith taking the puck, looking up ice and attempting a pass, Whitman continued, “They scored! Oh! Steve Smith, attempting to clear the puck out of his own zone, put it in his own net.” (more…)
I read the newspapers over the weekend. I expected to see news about a trade involving the Maple Leafs. And there it was on the front page of Monday’s Toronto Star sports section. Defenceman Cody Franson is gone. So is perhaps the hardest working forward on the team, Mike Santorelli. Then, Tuesday online, I caught a bit of the reporter scrum involving Toronto’s newest acquisition in the deal, 36-year-old Nashville Predator Olli Jokinen responding to the question: “Are you surprised?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” he told the Star. “Why wouldn’t I be?” (more…)