Ahh, fall.
The oppressive heat of summer has subsided, the kids are back in school and rinks around the country are filled with the sound of sharpened blades of steel slicing with extreme prejudice into freshly Zambonied ice.
Yup, hockey’s back. And I couldn’t be happier.
You see, I love the sport. I can’t say I always have, because honestly I can’t remember that far back. But I can say that since the 1997-1998 NHL playoffs, I have been enamoured with the sport, and with one team in particular.
Which team is that, you ask? It’s not too hard to figure out. I am from Toronto, after all. So, naturally, I hate the Maple Leafs. Contrary to what the Centre of the Universe media might tell you, all Torontonians actually hate the Leafs. Well, at least the ones who have brains do.
No, I am a Montréal Canadiens fan. And during hockey season, I don’t hide it. If it’s game day, I’m wearing one of my jerseys. White for home games and red for road games — the way it should be.
The only downside to being a Canadiens fan these days is the team is far removed from its glory days. There is hope on the horizon, but hope can only get you so far. I want some results!
The 2010 playoff run was the most exciting thing to happen to Montréal since, well, the summer of 1994 when the Expos were in first place (before they were robbed of a shot at the World Series).
I still remember walking back to the subway after watching game 7 of the Pittsburgh series in 2010 and having cars honk at me for wearing my Canadiens jersey. Then again, I was in downtown Toronto that night, so maybe they were really telling me where to go.
But that was then, and it wasn’t enough. I still want more.
Now, I can’t actually influence how the Canadiens perform, which is quite disappointing, but it does seem like I’m a good-luck charm of some kind when it comes to the Steelers here in town.
So far, in the two home games I’ve attended, the Steelers are undefeated. Sure, it’s a small sample size, but if you’re somewhat superstitious (like I can be when it comes to sports), you take what you can.
There is just something about being in an arena watching a hockey game, no matter the age of the players.
At the younger end, it’s just watching them (hopefully) develop a love for the game.
When they’re older, it’s watching the strategy the coaches employ and how the other team tries to defeat their opponents’ game plan.
But maybe what it really is, is me watching these kids play a sport my parents never let me play when I was a kid. My dad was a ref in his younger days, so maybe he knew what could happen.
Still, I feel I missed something.
