Off Topic:
To all the guys and gals on the thread who are, or have been "jocks", and known that indescribable joy of playing a game well or being a member of a team:
An incredibly emotional day today for this Canuck. Along with most of my fellow inhabitants of the "land of ice and snow", I have wept tears of both joy and sorrow as we watched the greatest hockey player of all time take his final leave of the game that has been, quite literally, his life. As has always been his way, he gave his last game everything he had, and again as has always been his trademark, the last entry in his magnificent record was an "assist" (as valued as a goal by most who understand the game). During this last game, he set up at least a dozen plays that should have resulted in goals, each ending in an unselfish pass, several when he could have taken the shot on net for himself. Even in his final game, he was the model "team player" and "play-maker".
As wondrous as "the Great One" has always been on the ice, it was his unfailingly modest and gentlemanly conduct off the ice that places him at the top of this man's list of sports heros. Self effacing, soft spoken, and inevitably polite, he is the model for every kid who plays the game, and the reference that every father promotes to his sons.
I have sat here for several minutes trying to find the words to explain why we Canadians are so in love with this game, but in the end, I could not dredge them up. I suppose it is bred into us, or results from the bond passed from father to son as smoothly as a lead pass is fed to a high flying winger by a defenceman. I do know that my father gave it to me and I in turn have passed it to my sons. It is a passion, a joy, a recurring high adventure that is all-consuming to most Canuck males, whether on the frozen rivers of Quebec, the ponds of Southern Ontario, or the dazzling arenas of our major cities.
Among my fondest memories of my late father were the memorable Sunday mornings when our tiny livingroom was crowded with a bunch of gangly teens, and fathers, all donning their smelly hockey gear, before piling into his and the other dads' cars for the trip to "the Inlet", our local pond. We played until dark, neither the exhausted "old men" nor the boisterous teens mindful of the time until the puck could barely be seen. Not only pucks were passed between the generations on that ice.
While no other player has amassed so great a record nor so captured the admiration of his countrymen, "Gretz" will suffer much over the next year or so. Withdrawal from a sport that one has loved, whether enforced by injury, or age, is always agonizing and it is worst for those who loved it most. That he revelled in hockey was evident every time he hopped over the boards.
I feel his inner agony as do each of you who have committed a part of your life to a sport. No matter what the level, no matter what the age, it hurts. While not within the same solar system with respect to his skills, I think I loved that darned game as much. I know I trained for it every summer and revelled in it every winter for most of my first three decades and could hardly endure its end when a car accident abruptly curtailed my participation in it. Lucky for me, another sport captured my heart and provided me with another two decades of high level adventure, but still, my soul still floats down left wing and cuts in on goal, legs driving, lungs exploding, puck cuddled in the stick, as I watch one generation after another partake of the greatest game in the world.
Tonight, unknown to him, we are Gretz's team mates. While not at his level, each of us has known the joys, and the triumphs, and accumulated the memories as well as the painful reminders of passionate participation in a sport. We have also experienced the hollowed-out misery when it can no longer be the focus of our being and the heart ache this entails. Time heals all, but I do not envy our beloved "99" his next few months. I only hope he takes pleasure from knowing that he left his trademarks not only on the game itself, but also on our identities. Canadians stand taller for his having played our game and represented our country so well.
Best, Earlie |
