The Civilizing of Hockey

I have never thought of the hockey game as a place of profound life insights.  Not profound perhaps, but in my memory rather pervasive, early years almost exclusively on the 'ice surface of life'.  This sport has yielded hours and hours of fun, a slight twist to my nose and an irregularity in chest cavity, and fairly good sized young muscles - valuable markings for one growing up as a Saskatchewan farm boy.  It also yielded an awareness which I can only appreciate now in hindsight.  It became clear to me that I was not, nor ever would be, as good a hockey player as one of my younger brothers, who was superstar material.  Fortunately for my ego, I had an adequate number of siblings and neighborhood friends also not as good as he, so we all mostly had lots of fun!  It was fun to play with a superstar especially if he also was having fun among us mortals.  Yes, those farmyard games were fun and they were fast.

Perhaps this childhood awareness is what has led to my surprising enjoyment of this 2019-20 NHL almost-corona-aborted-and-then-recovered season.  How do I know this?  Let me count the ways.

Firstly, I thought I could not handle the initial prospect of games canceled due to coronavirus.  Then I made adjustments.  I learned to pray instead of play.  If I couldn't watch 'em play I would increase in church volunteer work, including hours of telephone and text and email conversations.  Busy, still adjusting to retirement I think, also add thousands of steps per day duly commandeered by iPhone to hold Type 2 at bay.  And no television in the evening.  Me not yet having learned to replace hockey games with anything else, that left considerable extra time for my daughter in front of the tube (or screen we might say today).

Then along came a second ingredient, work instead of play.  I built an addition to the front porch of our house, and then a large project.  My wife and daughter and a neighbor friend painted the house by hand - up and down ladders with roller and paintbrush and lots of verbal consultations! Good exercise and no collateral damage!  Although I am not an experienced carpenter or artisan, I do enjoy projects. Git 'er done.  This one turned out well.

             

Then, thirdly, and mercifully, the NHL came back!   Even as many of us had almost convinced ourselves that we could do without.  In the interest of corona prevention I might indeed pray or paint, but now quickly I resumed old habit, grabbed my chair in front of television and back to the 'good old hockey game' even if no fans in the seats anywhere! Did I fall off the wagon?  Not exactly.  You see, I became a new kind of hockey fan.  First my Edmonton Oilers fell to the Chicago Blackhawks, not even qualifying for playoff round 1. Neither did Toronto or Winnipeg. Then into the abbreviated playoffs Calgary and Montreal were unable to get past first round, leaving one Canadian team standing; Vancouver Canucks scared the Vegas Golden Knights but finally lost that series in game seven!  The new hockey fan?  I became gracious! Oh yes, I admired Travis Green and his fine coaching of his talented players including that dream kid Elias Petterson. Exit round 2; no more Canadian teams.

Now picture this.  No more Canadian teams; my WhatsApp comment to my kids went like this, "Now let the Americans kill each other!"  Ironically this hasty judgement also had to go by the wayside.  I was learning a new way - or perhaps relearning the old way!  Hockey became fantastic, a new game of finesse and skill!  Seemingly with new eyes, and with some old heroes also eliminated, like Sidney Crosby (Pittsburgh) and Alex Ovechkin (Washington), and of course Conner McDavid (Edmonton), I thrilled at the quality of play and excellence of hockey by skilled, disciplined and well-coached hockey players.  Yes, the quality of game has been improving as the playoffs progressed.  Did I mention the coaches of these winning American teams are all Canadian?  In the Eastern Conference finals at one point where a scrum might have ensued  (New York Islanders vs Tampa Bay), commentators Jim Hughson and Craig Simpson opined that the players were unusually restrained.  Why?  Out of respect for one another and their coaches, Barry Trotz and Jon Cooper, close friends hailing from the arenas of Saskatchewan!  I thrilled at this passing commentary.  No Americans killing each other and me remembering some of my childhood hockey where fight was never ever considered part of the game - just shooting and passing and skating a hundred m.p.h!

Now, approaching the final series between Dallas (who nicely beat those big boys 😏 from Vegas who had beat our Vancouver), and Tampa Bay, I am expecting a relatively civilized series. There will be some drama around the possible return of Steven Stamkos (surgery during Corona break), the health of Braden Point (groin), the emotional grit of one ex-Oiler Patrick Maroon, and one of Dallas' tiring work horses named Cory Perry.  The two coaches Jon Cooper and Rick Bowness will juggle and scheme and challenge and face unknown obstacles and lead their highly skilled respective motivated teams until the final bell tolls and the winners bow before Lord Stanley.  This fan will cheer for the best team (and the second best) whichever that will be!

I do not envision bench-clearing brawls in this upcoming series. I stand corrected of my earlier cynical statement.  No more rabid drunk fans, because they're just not there!  The fans are social distancing somewhere.  Good riddance; now back to some excellent hockey.  Maybe Covid 19 has brought a degree of civilization to this important sport.

Consider the Bulldozer

 

Recently my brother and I were commiserating regarding present-day activities.  Both of us have lists of things to accomplish each day - so many that the occasional game of telephone tag will stretch up to three days!  Although we lament the busy-ness that keeps us from those quality conversations, we also acknowledge the value of meaningful healthy involvements.  In and among all these busy things we recognize a challenge facing both of us.  We both have been avid readers all our lives.  Reading always has and continues to inform us (A pattern obviously begun long before the present digital era).  Now each of us on the upper-side of our threescore and ten years, we were talking about those books.  We walk past our bookshelves, his built all over the living quarters and even some storage corners of his humble shack in Colorado Springs, and mine lining several walls of my daughter's bedroom!  Neither of our so-called offices would have room for these libraries. 

While talking about the worth and sentimental contribution to our great education (?) by these books, we also note that in the accumulation there is the occasional duplicate.  Only yesterday I happened upon two books of same title but with vastly different bindings - and also nestled on different shelves due to my simplistic cataloguing system!  I also note stretches of shelf space containing books on what now looks like a single theme - perhaps a stretch that could be considerably shortened.  Peter made a recent decision that whenever a new book comes along, he will dispose of one from somewhere in his collection.  At the moment he has 30 of such designation. Very impressive, but still contributing to the same dilemma.

Our book dilemma can be well compared with circumstance of many of my friends.  I tell him of these friends and colleagues also of similar or slightly older age than I, downsizing - systematically donating books to this book fair or thrift store, only to discover they are not necessarily valued, of similar ilk as other junk items in my garage.  Yikes, that moves us to the recycle theme.  Remove hard covers so the paper can be efficiently and conveniently (profitably?) recycled.  Oh but the humiliation of tearing covers off these valuable assets.  Both of us have spent the better part of our lifetimes self righteously quoting Bible passages like Luke 12:20 where God says to the rich man at the end of his days,  ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’  Both of us recognize our attachment to these earthly treasures.  Our books could qualify us for that judgment also.  

There is more to this conversation.  No we don't even hardly think about that end-of-life sermon theme we may have heard a time or two; what direction your soul, up or down, heaven or hell?  Nope, on to next theme with this good brother.  He has already consulted with a young friend of his who specializes in things like this, living wills we call them.  On that theme he says those words which to date I have not even wanted to think. When he thinks living will he thinks in terms of instruction to the bulldozer driver!  Very casually he blows me away with this another of his characteristic far-reaching thoughts.  He assumes a goodly portion of his accumulated material will get "pushed under".  Now there's a thought I have not yet pondered.  Although I have spent years of my professional life attempting to help people deal with both life and death realities, along with lots of questions and challenges often thinking survival, but never the bulldozer reality.

I must think about this a bit.  Pushed under? Demolished?  Now my mind turns directly to another brother.  This one of the miracle tongue, the one whom I blogged about this last spring ("Miracles", May 21), radical tongue cancer surgery followed by skin graft which at first seemed to be 'miraculously' successful but then graft had to be abandoned, removed and his life now happily resuming with half a tongue.  His life, characteristic story-telling and business acumen continues.  Often there are ironic twists to things.  His business, which includes tree cutting and stump grinding, and an interesting side-line, building demolition.  Yes, Philip of the new-lease-on-life persona has successfully contracted to demo the interior of a large hospital closed down, even as he has done several previous times.  Along with his tree cutting he is now becoming a demolitions expert (Remember I said business acumen).  Here there will be bulldozing along with a large-scale materials recovery, some of it yielding considerable profit for the one taking the time to remove and resell.

Interesting.  Just sitting on the sidelines here and by contact/conversations with two of my brothers, I have now repurposed 😜 the meaning and image of bulldozers - and added another bit of meaning to my days.  From book reducing to downsizing to recycling I now deem the bulldozer a spot in the circle of life.  Some of my life journey will appropriately, mercifully, get bulldozed under.  Some will be a part of a continuing legacy, contributing to the ongoing life of those who follow.  The Bible makes fine reference to this also, Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. (John 12:24).   As a Christian I am quite content to sweat not about it.  Actually there is even a hymn about that, "My Life Flows On" in endless song, number 580 in my blue hymnal.  Fancy what you can create in retirement, just thinking of many things!