All posts by dan0

Teammates and Covid-19, I think

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Living in the age of COVID-19 or the Corona Virus or 21st century global health pandemic has certainly provided the majority of us a new perspective on the importance of our health, individually and collectively, to our everyday lives. The occurrences we register as the mundane or dull happenings of everyday life have been drastically altered, for some a permanent change. As we consume our news of the pandemic, we realize the event is experienced on a variety of scales and your profession or line of work dictates your experience and its severity.

This has been the realization for a few weeks now after much uncertainty in the first half of the lockdown. The discussion has shifted from everyone staying safe and having access to anything they may need to survive this ordeal to reopening an economy and getting our lives back to normal. A broad step towards a solution, but with a limited amount of information as to the efficacy of the plan; how is this supposed to work? We went from reasonable measures to protect our citizens in the form of a lockdown and more succinctly, to protect our health care system from becoming overburdened by the potential of a catastrophic disaster, to seemingly having misplaced our understanding of the intent of these measures and flip to saving the economy from a health oriented remedy. We weren’t quite ready for a pandemic, but with a great deal of cooperation from Canadians coast to coast to coast, we managed to do as well as we could to mitigate the concern.

A very similar setting can be found on a hockey team. The coach delivers a plan for the team to succeed and in order for the team to succeed, everyone on the team needs to cooperate to achieve the collective goal. It’s a loose comparison, granted, but there are parallels to be drawn. The goal, in the instance with a hockey team isn’t always achieved, but it can never, or at the very least rarely, be achieved without a collective goal. Canada’s plan for a lockdown of all of its citizens, with very few exceptions, has been relatively successful, but not solely because of the plan or the delivery thereof. The plan has been successful because we have all cooperated by working towards the collective goal. We’re playing as a team and our coach is telling us we’re doing the right thing.

As far as other comparisons between COVID-19 and hockey, they may be myriad, however, the focus here is related to the team aspect of the sport. Coaching a team to share a common goal is not the easiest task, even when in the best of times. There will always be someone who doesn’t revere the team unit in the same fashion as the coach or teammates. These individuals have their own agenda as a member of the team. Everyone is supposed to play in a mode where the decisions made by each player relate to the collective goal. Sometimes the results of making the correct decision are not glamorous, such as chipping the puck out of the defensive zone, chipping the puck behind the defender and deep into the offensive zone, or just putting the puck on net so there may be a rebound. Not the stuff that highlights are made of, or the lore of the legends of the game, but necessary for the success of the team.

Considering the plan is designed to be simple for all, this makes the goal more attainable. Regardless of your skill level or your role on the team, everyone can manage the team’s goals. Sounds simple enough, but it certainly isn’t a perfect plan and with that imperfection comes opportunity to exploit the plan for its weaknesses. This is where we meet the detractors of any team goal. They know better anyway and so if they find a peculiarity with the coach’s method, its their excuse to abandon the plan and the goal. In their eyes, the plan is no longer valid; the goal no longer attainable or even necessary. The team itself becomes dispensable. Meanwhile, the rest of the team is working towards their goal. It may be difficult for them to keep the goal in mind or to be disciplined enough to stick to the plan, but the coach reminds them of their intent, muster and perseverance as a motivating factor; a cue you’re doing what’s right for the team.

At this point in the story, the writer realizes the ineptitude of his ability to compare and contrast this subject thoroughly. In fact, the writer sees the futility in his attempts without avoiding mixed metaphors and missed simile and manner of misunderstanding. The idea that someone may still be reading at this juncture, still searching for the point of the opinion, not knowing it is here the writer was wondering the same thing.

In the end, we were told to stay at home and we all abided and rightfully so. Over time, we get some who test the boundaries of the directive. Does the coach know he’s going to win before the start of the game? No. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a plan, but if you don’t like the plan, you don’t get to quit part way through the game and just do whatever you want. You have to have some faith that we can figure it out. You have to stick to the game plan – focus on the goal. It’s the right thing to do for the team.

Loser

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After a few seasons away from behind the bench, I was asked by a very respectable coach in the minor hockey association I work for, if I’d be interested in helping him with the coaching duties for a local Midget team.  Initially, I was hesitant.  I’ve had experience coaching before, so I’m fully aware that taking on such a responsibility of coaching requires a full commitment.

Its more than just being on the bench or running a few drills in practice.  Its the long drives to small community rinks at late evening hours and, of course, the long drives back home at even later hours.  Its losing a close game and constantly racking your brain afterwards as to what could have prevented such a result.  This behaviour also causes a loss of sleep, or at the very least a lack of good, restful sleep.  Plus, a coach needs to be at the rink before the rest of the team and is required to stick around after games and practices to make sure everyone is ready to go.

Before the game, coaches need to be present for myriad reasons.  Filling out the game sheet, prepping the lineup, selecting a starting goaltender, pregame pep talks with either individuals or groups of players and generally speaking, being present for whatever may occur.  After the game, a coach will need to stick around, so if there was a penalty issue through the course of the game, he will immediately be up to speed on pending suspensions or any other issue regarding officials.  A post game rundown to be afforded the players – sometimes an easy approach and others, not so much.  Plus, win or lose, the coach must be prepared for an impromptu meeting with a parent.   Needless to say, there is a lot to consider as a coach.

As I stated before, I was aware of that, but still needed some time to consider if I really wanted to do all of that.  In addition to working for the minor hockey association, I also work at the arena housing all of those minor hockey teams.  I don’t know a lot of people who work all week only to turn around and volunteer their time at their place of work.  Maybe there are masses of individuals who see fit to do so, even if they dislike their jobs.  More power to them.  I am not one of those upstanding individuals.  For me, leaving my office at the end of my shift is a highly anticipated event.  Once I leave, I have no intention on returning until I absolutely have to – and even then, I would certainly be reluctant.  However, this isn’t about how much I dislike my job.  Its a commentary on how I believe myself to be a loser.

In the end, I accepted the challenge of coaching a Midget BB team for the season.  It was a lot of work, but initially, it was rewarding and fulfilling.  The coaching staff was granted an exceptional group of young men with a high desire to win.  And win they did.  The boys ran the table in their league with a perfect 20-0 record.  They also managed to win their home tournament, finish as finalists in a regional Silver Stick and once playoffs rolled around, trounced their first round opponent with 3 straight wins to sweep the series.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the incredible staff I worked with.  A slew of experienced fellows that know their way around a minor hockey team.  In fact, the head coach and the trainer were a part of a championship team at the midget level, a few years ago; a first for our association in over 30 years.  Aside from knowing most of the kids on the team, having worked with them in the past, getting the opportunity to work with that staff and learn from their winning ways was the big incentive for me.  You see, I haven’t won anything before as a coach and I have always wanted to know what it takes to win.  I thought that working with this group would provide me the opportunity to learn about the requirements necessary to put a team over the top and become champions.

I really wanted to do it with this team, too.  They’re a really good group of kids and when I worked with them a few seasons ago, as minor bantams, they had a tough season riddled with lopsided losses.  It was an awful year of parental interference, coaching ineptitude (myself included) and a severe lack of depth throughout the association, not just the team I worked with.  Children crying, coaches being attacked by irate parents, players being prompted by adults to question the coach and his tactics and an entire league that looked down on our inclusion.  We were a bit of a joke, but no one was laughing.

Considering the results of our regular season campaign, along with the rest of the coaching staff, I felt we had an incredible opportunity to make some noise in the playoffs.  Ah, who am I kidding?  I thought we were going to win a championship.  It was a topic of discussion all season long.  Before our first team practice, the head coach and I had planned on walking in the room with the team we had assembled and announcing our intention to compete for a championship.  We genuinely felt we had a terrific chance and we wanted to share that with the guys.  In our minds, there was no need to skirt the issue and pretend we didn’t have a good team.  We wanted to speak about our plan for the season and make winning the focus and overall theme for the year.

As we stepped into the room, we realized the conversation had started without us.  The players themselves were aware of the potential of this squad and they wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page.  Witnessing this was definitely reassuring, as far as the players’ motivation was concerned.  As a staff, we decided our focus would be on strategy and tact.  Considering their motivation, we would just need to steer them in the right direction.

The season brought about a result I could never have anticipated.  We went 20-0 on the year!  A perfect season within our league.  It was incredible to witness and really special to be a part of.  I don’t want to gloss over the achievement; the players worked very hard all season long to accomplish this feat.  We didn’t set out to complete a perfect season, however, we believed that it was a sign of how good our team was and that bigger things were expected in the playoffs.  Boy, were we ever wrong.

The first round of the playoffs was preliminary and came shortly after the regular season ended.  Our opponent, familiar from our league play, was not up to the task.  We swept them with ease, as was expected.  This is where things start to go awry.  Within a week of starting the first round, we were through to the next.  The series opposite us had just started.  For some reason, while we had the time to extend play within the first round, the other series delayed their start.  Curious at the time, but no reason to worry.  We were eager to continue, but felt the tempo of our practices would keep us in our groove.  The delay continued as the other series took a strange turn and with a few ties mixed in, the other series went the distance and included a winner we didn’t expect.  By the time the next series began, we hadn’t played a game in almost a full month.

It was the quarter finals and we still had a long road ahead, but we were getting antsy about continuing our run and wanted to get things underway.  Our opponent was ready for us.  After being down in the previous series, they had to struggle to get their game going and managed to work away and wear down their opponent and come up with a win.  They had enacted their character to get them through and they rolled with that vibe.  We had been waiting for so long and yet, we believed we were ready.  We lost the first game 6-3.  No one panicked, but there was immediate concern from a few players and some team staff.

As the ice scheduler for the local minor hockey association, I negotiate the playoff contracts.  I select the dates and times, as available, for our centre and then shop those to find the most agreeable times between the two centres.  I was the one who agreed to the contract arrangement.  It was organized, for whatever reason, to play 3 games in 3 days.  The head coach and other staff conveyed no desire to agree to such a schedule and warned of the potential dire consequences.  I chose to ignore, believing that I knew my team and that it wouldn’t matter to the boys when they had to play.

Whether it was a lack of adversity over the course of the season or not, the boys didn’t respond well to losing the first game.  After a dressing room discussion on what we needed to do for game 2, we went on the road and lost that match 2-1.  A slightly better performance, but injuries abound and fear setting in, we were down 2-0 in the series.  The head coach and I were stunned at the result and were riddled with a queasiness that would not relent.

On the ride home, we received a text from our starting goalie about picking up a practice the next morning, a few hours before game 3.  Once we got home, we raced to the rink and booked an ice time.  Just an hour to go over a few things and get the fellas comfortable on home ice again.  It seemed to work, as there was a palpable difference in the room prior to game time.

We trounced our opponent 7-1.  It was a performance to behold for our team.  A few players reached beyond their ability to keep us alive.  It was amazing!  I was far more emotional than I thought I would be, but we needed some positive energy and it was overwhelming to have that feeling.  I don’t know about anyone else at that time, but I now believed we could win.  We had a week between games 3 & 4, so we worked on a few things and prepared ourselves for a big win.

I am not a good coach, but when I walked into the visitors dressing room to see a team facing elimination, my eyes gazed upon a scared group.  I don’t know what happened between our last practice and this moment before game time, but we were not ready.  The doubt I saw in their faces was unmistakable.  I took a deep breath and stepped outside the room.  I couldn’t look at that anymore.  Albeit a quick change, I was furious.  How could this have happened?  Questions of this nature are rarely answered, but it is never a good sign once the question is posed.

Sparing the details, not that they don’t matter, but if you’re still reading, you’d probably want to know at this point that we lost, 3-1.  I was embarrassed.  Emotions boiled over a few times in the series and more so in game 4.  It was too little, too late.  We were absolutely blindsided.  A perfect season gone to waste.  Fuck!  The feeling of it all slipping away, while the other team laughed at us, is the worst I’ve felt in hockey.  Watching the elation on the faces of a team we felt we should have beat was gut wrenching.  And, of course, the idea that it was all gone was just setting in.  There was no redo.  No do over – just failure.  The finality of it all was like what I sometimes imagine death to be like.  Once its gone, its gone.  Losers forever.

Most of the group were 17 years old, so this was the end of their minor hockey careers.  That is what I walked into in our room after the debacle.  Kids crying, blank stares and silence, but for the whimpering and sniffling.  My least favourite place to be.  I could only stand a minute of it and I needed to vacate the space.  I was so disappointed, I couldn’t speak.  One question after another about what had happened and why.  And although the line of questions I burdened myself with was endless, not once did I offer an answer.  I was so confused; I felt stupid and vastly unqualified.

Interestingly, the coach made a comment in the post game that stuck with me: “what’s the consequence here?  Nothing.  You don’t move on and for some its over, but there is no real consequence.  Its just a game.”  I guess I agree and in the end, he’s right.  The result won’t take a future opportunity away from any of these guys.  Eventually, we’ll all move on and carry no visible scars.  Some of us will move on to bigger and better things and the loss will be but a blip on the screen.  Yet, here I am, almost 3 months later, writing a post about it.  Safe to say, I’m not entirely over it.

After reading the preceding drivel ridden sob story, the reader may be rolling their eyes.  ‘Big deal’, ‘Get over it’, and ‘So what?’ are perhaps the common responses to my plight.  I get it.  I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.  I can’t stop thinking about what happened and why?  I’m not necessarily looking to allocate blame in this scenario and certainly not any of the players, even if some of the blame is theirs.  It’s not my concern.  I don’t believe in placing blame to find an answer.  I just want to know what happened.

Finally, I have arrived at the point of this story.  The tone of this post is a guy talking about losing.  A guy that wants to win, but loses.  A guy that wants so badly to win, but he doesn’t know how.  I’ve coached 11 teams over 10 seasons within 14 years and I’m no further ahead now than I was when I first began coaching.  I still don’t know how to win.  I don’t want your pity for coming to this realization, either.  That’s not why I’m writing this.  I don’t want the win for me.

As a coach, I wanted to believe that I could help lead a group of young hockey players to achieve their goal of winning a title.  I wanted to be able to show them that they can do it.  Trying to implore them with what I thought were the right things to say at the right times.  In the end, I couldn’t do any of that.  That’s a fact.  Even now, I still don’t know what I could have done to change the outcome for those guys and I feel awful about it.

Arriving at the conclusion I have, did not come easily.  It also took longer than it should have, in retrospect.  It may be something others can learn from, as well.  The conclusion: I’m a loser.  That is all; pure and simple.  In realizing this, I’ve also come to terms with the fact that I shouldn’t be coaching anymore.  I’m just not good at it.  Could I improve?  Maybe, but I’ve proven to at least myself, that even after ten seasons of experience, improvement just isn’t likely to happen.  I’ve thought about that a lot.  There is a quiet voice in my head that has told me that if I just worked harder, if I spent just a little more time, if I focused slightly more then maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to alter future outcomes.  That is just not true.

I spent my time helping a group that I was not qualified to help.  Realizing that has really weighed me down.  Not to become more self-loathing and badger myself with mental beat-downs that I’m just not good enough, but more that I used someone else’s time in minor hockey to practice something I was never going to get better at.  I sacrificed the playing careers of some really good kids because I thought I knew how to coach.  The time I spent robbed these guys of a chance at glory and none of them even knew that I was the reason why that happened.

I did speak with one of the players a few weeks after we were eliminated.  He asked if I was going to coach again.  I already had made up my mind.  I talked to him about what was going through my head and why I was left feeling the way I did.  I think he was taken aback.  I forgot he was just a kid and I don’t think he could identify with what I was saying.  I needed to be careful to not place a burden on the young man.  I haven’t spoken to him since.

I don’t feel much better, but I’m sure in time, I will.  The coach was right – I have no visible scars.  It makes me wonder, though, how many other people can understand what I’m saying?  I’d like to think that the epiphany I reached is of value to not just me.  People don’t like to admit when they’re wrong.  They also don’t like to believe that they can’t do what it is they like because they’re simply not good enough.  I think too many people go through life praising mediocrity.  I don’t know if there is anything explicitly wrong with that, but in my case, I can’t continue to do that where coaching is concerned.  Coming to terms with being a loser was difficult, but essential.  I don’t have a lingering concern about how I will be better.  I now know that I can’t be any better.  While that may sound defeatist, I’m at ease with it.  My only regret is that I didn’t come to the realization sooner.  I guess that just goes with the territory of being a loser.

The Forgotten

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It’s the big day! Everyone has been waiting in eager anticipation for this special event. The players arrived early to warm themselves up. Get the legs going, the blood flowing, and mentally prepare for this once in a lifetime opportunity. The coaches, not far behind, arrive on time to make sure they’re ready, too. Get the game sheet filled out, set up the lines for the forwards and defence and decide on the starting goalie. Much discussion to be had and healthy debate to partake in to narrow the focus for the game plan.

The officials arrive in style, walk with a swagger and a waning confidence; knowing this may be the last time this evening anyone will notice them in a favourable light. Parents, grandparents, siblings and a whole host of other fans fill the arena with the expectation of seeing their child, their favourite player, compete for the championship. Hope resides in all who are present on this special evening.

But wait, there’s something missing. Or rather, someone is missing. It’s nothing new; this certain someone is always forgotten. We praise and revere all the other participants, yet this individual is rarely mentioned in the annals of games long past. Strange how this could come to be as they are as essential as any other cog in the wheel. In fact, so necessary, a game has yet to be played without one or more of these vitally important contributors.

So, who is this person? Is it the concession stand operator? The person who feeds the passionate turned hungry at a frenzied pace during each intermission. The one who warms us with hot drinks to aid our cheers. No. Is it the arena operator to prepare our hockey cathedral for an exquisite viewing experience? The person who is responsible for resurfacing the pristine sheet, erasing the game before so that we may witness hockey anew. The one who stays behind after the bustle has vanished from the rink to clean, scrub, sweep, mop, scrape and repeat. No again. Then who is this indispensable being with which we cannot go without? The person who holds power over the 4th dimension. The one who always knows the score. Perhaps, we need to ask a separate set of questions. Such as, how much time on the clock? What is the score? What period are we in? These and many other questions like them can only be answered by this mystery position.

I’m referring to the Timekeeper, of course. That’s right, the Timekeeper. The tireless, relentless worker who is always forgotten when its time for a list of mentions, but is always there so that we may enjoy our pastime with the standard of managed time frames and scores kept and communicated to the rest of the game’s partakers. As much as we need players to play and coaches to coach and officials to officiate, we require the Timekeeper to well, keep time and the score. It can’t be overstated how compulsory their contribution is to the game of hockey.

The game sheet starts with the home team, as they attempt to correctly complete their portion of information contained and then passed onto the away team for a similar operation. The team officials must sign and the game officials are required to do the same. Once reviewed by the on-ice officials, the game sheet lands in front of the Timekeeper. It’s at this point in the festivities when the most important data is entered for the record. The name and phone number of the Timekeeper is placed in the top right corner of the game sheet, placing the responsibility of all information pertaining to the outcome of each game in their capable hands. They know this and it is with this knowledge they gain their place within the history of the game.

If a single tenth of a second is wound off the clock without their direct and immediate attention, the outcome could turn out to be tainted. It’s the focus and concentration of the Timekeeper that allows for the semblance of consistency over the course of the game. A focus and concentration that is constantly bombarded with attempts to break it down. From screaming, disgruntled coaches upset over a score board posting to screeching, embroiled parents upset over a score board posting. Not to mention all this work, clerical and otherwise, must be completed in the less than cozy confines of the Timekeeper’s modest dwelling, the Timekeeper’s box. Cold, cold and colder is the consistent climate for these brave souls to administer their tasks. Frozen fingers and toes are the usual casualty of such a job, but the Timekeeper, like time itself, persists. In some cases, when the stakes are highest, there may be two Timekeepers; one to work the clock and the other to complete the game sheet. A goal, an assist, or penalties are regular occurrences during a game. Incidences which the recording thereof we typically take for granted, until we absolutely need to know who committed the offense or scored that goal. It is then, we discover why we need the timekeeper. They have the answers; they satisfy our curiosity.

Once the game is over, the score is tallied and the penalties are totalled. Verified, the game sheet returns to the officials for one last check and then stored for safe keeping. Sent to the office of the applicable governing body to be reviewed. Insight into what may have transpired during any game can only be gleamed from the game sheet, but to know the definitive, one need only to glance at said record to find its truth. An accumulation tracked by the Timekeeper.

These words may not change your view of the importance and indispensable efforts of the Timekeeper, but it doesn’t have to. They’ll still be needed, always.

I wanted to take the opportunity by writing this piece to thank all the timekeepers I have managed over the past 4 seasons with NDMH. These are some of the best people I have been associated with. They insure that every game is recorded properly, so the credit goes to the deserving. The most impressive part – they are just kids. I would like to mention a few names especially. Kayla Ford, Ryon Brooks and Kennedy South are just a few of the staff, but these three are exceptional Timekeepers. Thank you for everything you do.

Finals Preview

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Originally, this post was supposed to consist of my insight into the Stanley Cup Finals and some thoughts on what I expected to happen in the series and, in particular, what may transpire in game one.  Unfortunately for me, that didn’t happen.  No, once again my trepidation over producing something unfit for reading and having my name attached to it while others snickered at their screens as they read my opinions, got the best of me.  I mean, I was going to do a comparison of goaltenders, defence, forwards and special teams of the two contenders for the much lauded grail that is the Stanley Cup.  I was going to touch on certain factors that may have influenced the outcome of this series between two titans of the sport.  Of course I was going to talk about Drew Doughty and how his almost mystical ability to force his will on the game would be a determining element of the final.  I was even going to share my intuition that the Kings were going to lean on their third and fourth lines to establish a physical presence right off the hop and how that would work to slow the speedy forwards of the Rangers considerably.  Players like Dwight King and Mike Richards would play prominent roles in backing off the Rangers attack and push the Rangers around a little, making a statement of bodily impact and intimidation.  Perhaps most disappointing, was my prediction that one Kyle Clifford would play an increased role for Darryl Sutter by using his large frame to not only inflict pain on the Rangers, but also have an effect on the score of the contest.  Having considered this possible scenario, I was pretty sure of myself and my perspective and, lo and behold, Clifford came through, as have some of the other forecasts, albeit early in the series.  All of this is true and yet, because I’m writing this post more than 48 hours after this had transpired, it means nothing.  Way to go Dan.  It’s my fault that, instead of publishing my opinions, I came up with a series of excuses as to why I couldn’t write about any of this.  At this point, it’s getting a little pathetic and it probably isn’t a good idea to continue, lest I say something I didn’t intend.  So I hope this is a lesson to me and anyone reading this, that just doing it, just getting over myself and my insecurities over writing something good and instead producing something, is far more rewarding than coming up with another set of excuses as to why I didn’t write anything at all.

The Origins of Hockey

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The origin of hockey is a question fans of the sport have been asking for ages without ever obtaining an answer that qualifies as a universally accepted fact.  That doesn’t mean that there haven’t been attempts at solving the mystery, but these attempts have been unfulfilling for the historians of the game.  From ancient Greece to the coast of Nova Scotia, where the great frozen game came to be is still up for debate.  Since the floor is open, allow me to make the case for Canada as a whole.

Canada’s passion for the game of hockey is unmatched the world over. It’s undeniable that Canadians love the game and no other country comes close to our understanding of the game.  Ken Dryden and Roy MacGregor put it best: “Somewhere in our souls is a spiritual Canada.  Most probably, its bedrock is of snow and ice, winter and the land.  And if we were to penetrate it a little deeper, chances are we would find a game” (Home Game, 1994).  The landscape of Canada lends itself to the game and its development.  The cold and ice connotes loneliness, dismal isolation, descriptions of barren tundra and endless scenery. The need to keep warm was constant in the early days of Canada’s infancy and remains so today.  All of the work to prepare for the winter season was done throughout the warmer months.  Harvesting and foraging relentlessly, the early settlers knew they had no choice but to make arrangements for the unforgiving winter.  The desolation of the cold was compounded by the lack of activity and the anticipation of spring.  They needed something to keep them occupied, to give them hope, warm their bodies and brighten their spirits.  This sounds like the making of the game that we have become so attached to and inseparably so.  I can only imagine the joy the game brought to the pilgrims of that time in our history.

The exact location of the first game is still up for discussion.  There are four Canadian sites that claim the prestigious honour of hosting the first game of hockey, but an agreement on that place is yet to be decided.  Windsor, Halifax, Montreal and Kingston all contend that the right is theirs, but I believe they are all missing the point.  The fact is they are all Canadian.  From boys to men, girls to women, native to immigrant, everyone in this collective is Canadian and all love and play the game in all of its forms.  The game connects us all to each other and helps us forget about our differences.  Canadians have many things to be proud of, yet hockey is the one thing that helps us to truly identify with one another.  It doesn’t matter who you are, what you believe, where your political alliances lie or your family’s ancestry; if you play, watch or discuss hockey you are accepted.  This indiscriminate behaviour towards fellow Canadians is something unique and treasurable.  Conduct of this nature could only take place in a land that claims ownership of the game.

Furthermore, to the point discussed previously, Canada doesn’t just state title to the game, but this country’s commitment to the game is unwavering and constant and we view ourselves as the keepers of the game.  We use hockey to foster the dreams of our young, to give them something to hope for, something to relish in, an ideal to protect.  We place a level of importance on the game that other countries can’t compete with.  We very meticulously mold and shape the game to reflect our standards, and then conversely, we dissect the game, and not necessarily always to reflect on the state of hockey, but ultimately to learn about ourselves.  Our understanding of the game teaches us about where we are as a communal nation.  It could be suggested that when the game is in good shape, Canada is in good shape, as evidenced by the immediate, and subsequent prolonged sense of pride in our Olympic teams winning gold on the world stage and even more significant, on our home soil.  Canada’s celebration that day wasn’t that it happened in a specific Canadian city, but any Canadian city.  Our vibrant elation was experienced from coast to coast.  The occasion was the culmination of the complete and concerted efforts of all members of this land, past and present, in the production of the greatest possible outcome in a chapter of the story of hockey. There may not be a better quote to sum up my argument about the origin of the game than that of Fred Shero when he said,  “We know that hockey is where we live, where we can best meet and overcome pain and wrong and death. Life is just a place where we spend time between games” (Bleacherreport, 2012).  Shero’s quote is simple; hockey is life and this is the way Canadians live.

Hockey’s origin, in the physical sense, does hold considerable significance to historians, as placing a name and a face could provide some clarification on the issue and may be a more tangible form of evidence as to the sacred location. In my estimation, the spirit of the game, the development of the game and the people that love it offer a much more consistent and realistic affirmation of the game of hockey and no one group of people better exemplifies this ideal than Canadians.