Hi, folks. This here is a new blog about the Bee Sharps. I have been thinking about doing one for some time, but the planets have finally aligned and here its - the Bee Sharps have entered the blogosphere.
What will happen on this site? It will be a more laid back, informal commentary on the Sharps and the world around them than you would find on our parent site, www.beesharps.com. I started up a column there a couple years back called "Sharpy's Corner", and I managed all of 11 articles in almost three years. (Those articles have now found a home on this blog). The problem is that I would have to think of an idea that could sustain a longer article before even beginning to write it down. Now, you can read every random thought that comes to my mind, warts and all.
I'm looking forward to this blog partly because of its lack of maintenance compared to the official Sharps website. This time around, I'm letting the good people at blogger.com do the work with the design and updating, and seeing that I can post new entries fromany computer, this blog just may be updated more often than the team site.
Anyway, I (we? I must get my tenses straight) hope you enjoy both this blog and the Bee Sharps website.
9.29.2007
The Parting of the Ways
(04.08.07) Is it a sign of advancing age to look wistfully back at buildings and places, and yearn for their existence once they are no more? I'm only 32, and I come from Camrose, Alberta, but already, large chunks of my past in that esteemed city have been long since paved over with shiny senior citizen condominiums and pseudo-rustic gazebos; actual history replaced with manufactured nostalgia. The very hospital I was born in 1975 was replaced with a new healing centre years later. My first kindergarten school? Gone, replaced by a condo. The home in which I spent my first five years of life? Gone, replaced by a patch of grass.On top of all those buildings, one more relic of my dwindling memories of growing up in Camrose is soon to join them. The Wild Rose Arena, Camrose's first indoor arena, has seen its last game, housed its last boyhood dream, and is scheduled for demolition later this year. Built in 1926, the rink was Camrose's only rink until the ultra-modern CADRECA was built for the country's centennial in 1967. (No one remembers what the name CADRECA actually stands for, but the point became academic when the rink was renamed the Max MacLean Arena in the 1990's). As the population of Camrose and the surrounding area has grown over the decades, the city's two rinks have become increasingly taxed with increasing demand for ice slots. The fact that the Camrose Kodiaks, one of the country's top Junior 'A' hockey franchises, has outgrown its humble rink (the Max MacLean Arena), was also pressing on the city's mind as the 20th century drew to a close.
So, this fall sees the unveiling of a brand new complex, the Camrose Regional Sport Development Centre (catchy name, innit?). The facility will house a 300-seat "utility" rink, but the centerpiece will be the 3,000-seat main arena that will house the Kodiaks and push both the AJHL games and the international Viking Cup tournament to a whole new level. I don't want to sound like I'm a stodgy old coot, resistant to change like so many ex-Reform Party voters (the majority of Camrose's election base). I'm overjoyed about the new rink, and it will undoubtedly lead to Camrose hosting major tournaments such as the Centennial Cup (aka Major Canadian Bank Cup).
However, the old Wild Rose Arena has been elbowed out, nudged to the sidelines like many a wallflower at a barnyard dance. They held a final free public skate on April 1, and I specifically made the trip back home to soak up the final days of the grand old rink. I hadn't been there since I stopped playing there in 1990. Back then, amazingly, there was no glass along the sides of the rink (fans and parents of the players were an attentive lot in those days), but plexiglass and safety netting now spanned the whole ice surface. In one end of the rink, there was a small food stand tucked into an alcove that always had smoke billowing out of it, as the ventilation was quite poor. The rafters and support beams were a thing of beauty in the intricate lattice work. Behind the net on one side of the rink, not far from the smoking hot dog stand, was a small section of seats that were actually about 10 feet above the ice. The stands were condemned long ago, but my Dad remembers watching a senior hockey team called the Camrose Maroons there in the 1960s. Underneath the stands was a dank, dark walkway that led to the other side of the rink. Towards the opposite corner of the rink, the floor dipped alarmingly towards the wall, leading one to believe that the whole arena was gradually sinking into a vast sinkhole.
But it never sank. It stood the test of time for over 80 years, and was home to many a hockey memory to me and many others. One of my last ports of call during the farewell tour was to have a quick peak in the dressing rooms, the same rooms where my Dad would tie my skates while I adjusted my shoulder pads and slipped on my #6 IGA Mall'Ers jersey. I was amazed to see how big the room actually was (I've obviously spent too much time in the K of C dressing rooms). I stood in the room for a few seconds before noticing a small child, not twelve years old, sitting on the bench by the door with his skates on. I risked humiliation (you know how kids are these days) and said to him, "I used to play in this rink when I was your age. I've got a lot of memories of this place."
The kid looked up at me, almost matching my own nostalgic expression, and replied, "Yeah. Me, too." Twenty years difference in our ages, almost forty years between mine and my Dad's, and we all had memories of this beautiful rink at different times of its existence. I shall miss that rink as I would miss an old friend.
---
Another old rink will become no more in the near future. Historic old Westmount Centre Ice, as most have probably heard, will be drastically revamped, replacing most of its middle section with that most dreaded a sign of urban sprawl, a Home Depot. Presumably, the area currently containing the ice rink will be home to the window and door department. The rink only stood some five years, and has little history behind it, but the earliest video footage of a Bee Sharps game originates from that rink. This was back when the proprietor of the local watering hole used to videotape the games played next door at the rink, then show them on the bar's big screen TVs afterwards for the players' collective amusement and embarrassment.
Over the past couple of years, however, the videotaping stopped, along with the flow of hot water in the showers and beer in the dressing room (the latter due to a mall policy). I'm not sure the same amount of tears will be shed over Westmount as it would over the Wild Rose, but it nonetheless bears mention.
So, this fall sees the unveiling of a brand new complex, the Camrose Regional Sport Development Centre (catchy name, innit?). The facility will house a 300-seat "utility" rink, but the centerpiece will be the 3,000-seat main arena that will house the Kodiaks and push both the AJHL games and the international Viking Cup tournament to a whole new level. I don't want to sound like I'm a stodgy old coot, resistant to change like so many ex-Reform Party voters (the majority of Camrose's election base). I'm overjoyed about the new rink, and it will undoubtedly lead to Camrose hosting major tournaments such as the Centennial Cup (aka Major Canadian Bank Cup).
However, the old Wild Rose Arena has been elbowed out, nudged to the sidelines like many a wallflower at a barnyard dance. They held a final free public skate on April 1, and I specifically made the trip back home to soak up the final days of the grand old rink. I hadn't been there since I stopped playing there in 1990. Back then, amazingly, there was no glass along the sides of the rink (fans and parents of the players were an attentive lot in those days), but plexiglass and safety netting now spanned the whole ice surface. In one end of the rink, there was a small food stand tucked into an alcove that always had smoke billowing out of it, as the ventilation was quite poor. The rafters and support beams were a thing of beauty in the intricate lattice work. Behind the net on one side of the rink, not far from the smoking hot dog stand, was a small section of seats that were actually about 10 feet above the ice. The stands were condemned long ago, but my Dad remembers watching a senior hockey team called the Camrose Maroons there in the 1960s. Underneath the stands was a dank, dark walkway that led to the other side of the rink. Towards the opposite corner of the rink, the floor dipped alarmingly towards the wall, leading one to believe that the whole arena was gradually sinking into a vast sinkhole.
But it never sank. It stood the test of time for over 80 years, and was home to many a hockey memory to me and many others. One of my last ports of call during the farewell tour was to have a quick peak in the dressing rooms, the same rooms where my Dad would tie my skates while I adjusted my shoulder pads and slipped on my #6 IGA Mall'Ers jersey. I was amazed to see how big the room actually was (I've obviously spent too much time in the K of C dressing rooms). I stood in the room for a few seconds before noticing a small child, not twelve years old, sitting on the bench by the door with his skates on. I risked humiliation (you know how kids are these days) and said to him, "I used to play in this rink when I was your age. I've got a lot of memories of this place."
The kid looked up at me, almost matching my own nostalgic expression, and replied, "Yeah. Me, too." Twenty years difference in our ages, almost forty years between mine and my Dad's, and we all had memories of this beautiful rink at different times of its existence. I shall miss that rink as I would miss an old friend.
---
Another old rink will become no more in the near future. Historic old Westmount Centre Ice, as most have probably heard, will be drastically revamped, replacing most of its middle section with that most dreaded a sign of urban sprawl, a Home Depot. Presumably, the area currently containing the ice rink will be home to the window and door department. The rink only stood some five years, and has little history behind it, but the earliest video footage of a Bee Sharps game originates from that rink. This was back when the proprietor of the local watering hole used to videotape the games played next door at the rink, then show them on the bar's big screen TVs afterwards for the players' collective amusement and embarrassment.
Over the past couple of years, however, the videotaping stopped, along with the flow of hot water in the showers and beer in the dressing room (the latter due to a mall policy). I'm not sure the same amount of tears will be shed over Westmount as it would over the Wild Rose, but it nonetheless bears mention.
Cold Reception On A Colder Day
(11.28.06) As I write this, I am getting ready for what should be an emotionally charged night at the cinema. And no, I'm not going to see Happy Feet (will anyone even know what Happy Feet is two months from now, even if it is, for some reason, the number one movie in North America right now?).
A friend and I are taking in the pay-per-view match between the Edmonton Oilers and the Anaheim Ducks tonight. I've rarely seen a PPV game; I don't have the required digital cable box, and I am not popular enough amongst my friends and colleagues to be invited over to view one at their homes. My friend once told me about the raucous atmosphere that existed at a PPV event held at the cinema, and this upcoming Oilers-Ducks game seemed like a perfect occasion to experience a live PPV NHL game for myself.
There was no hope of obtaining tickets to be at the game in person tonight. The Oilers are a massive success at the box office, and the return of Chris Pronger only made the pickings for seats even slimmer. Let me put my feelings towards Pronger the player out there right now. I love the guy. I think he's the best defenceman to ever wear an Oilers jersey (Paul Coffey not excluded). Even though he only played here for a year, he could be my favourite Oiler of all time. Seriously. I was more enthralled with his play than I was when I was a kid watching Wayne Gretzky. I never wanted to be Gretzky as a kid, but Pronger has inspired me more and more to want to be a defenceman. Again - seriously!
Pronger's performance last season, especially his play in the Stanley Cup Finals against Carolina, was awe-inspiring. At times, it looked as if the Oilers would win the Cup solely on the will and talent of Chris Pronger. We lived, died, lived again...and then finally died again with Pronger and his Oiler teammates. But we were grateful for the exciting Cup run, and were anticipating many more such runs with Pronger on the blueline.
And then Pronger left. The last shard of glass hadn't even been swept off a bruised and battered Whyte Avenue when Pronger, catching some sun rays in Mexico, let it be known through his agent that he wished to be traded. Amid the continuing denial that the Oilers' magical run was over, now came news to the fans that their greatest thoroughbred wanted to play his trade in a different pasture. Somewhere else. Anywhere but here.
Forget the rumours as to why Pronger wanted out, and also forget Pronger's own consistently ambiguous reasons for wanting to go. He signed a long term contract with this team, and should have played it out. That contract was not only a bond with the team, but a bond with the community.
This is a city which has seen many a star player leave well before we thought their time here was up. Gretzky, Coffey, Messier, Weight, Guerin, Joseph, etc. Other cities would develop a sort of malaise about this continuing exodus. Fans in other cities would lose interest in their team, stop caring, and stop attending or, perhaps even worse, lose interest, stop caring, yet still attend the games (nothing is more deceptive to a franchise owner than a full building full of disinterested fans).
All those players I listed before have been booed upon their return to this city while wearing another team's uniform. And I think it's great. There's a small minority of fans and journalists in this city who don't think Pronger should be booed, and that we should all respect Pronger's reasons for leaving. Of course, that won't happen, and it shouldn't. When Pronger hears the boos tonight, he will be hearing the boos of a city that cares. A city that, despite experiencing heartbreak from many past unrequited love affairs with its heroes, still has the passion to love their current team, and chastise those who have spurned it. The passion that this city has for itself and, by extension, its hockey team, is unlike any other.
Chris Pronger will experience that passion tonight.
Doctor...Who?
(10.03.06) Last time I got on my soapbox in Sharpy's corner, I prattled on about my adoration of America's pastime. No, not morbid obesity (that's more America's passion than a pastime), but the grand old game of baseball. (Ed. note : It's been a while since that article was posted on this, the most non-prolific example of a blog that this site has. Stanley Kubrick pumped out films with greater frequency during his career than this.) Baseball seems worthy of mention again right now as the playoffs are about to begin, easily the most exciting time of the overly long baseball season.
But an even more thrilling television event is on the horizon, that being the Canadian debut of the second series of the new Doctor Who on CBC. For those who don't know, hockey is a distant third on my list of passions in life (my number one passion now is obvious; she knows who she is). Doctor Who has always been near or at the top of that list.
A brief history, while trying my best not to sound like a full on nerd : Doctor Who is a science fiction show that was shown on the British Broadcasting Corporation originally from 1963 until 1989. It featured a mysterious guy known only as the Doctor who travelled around through space and time in a 1950's police telephone box, solving crimes in his spare time. As the years went on, it was revealed that the Doctor could change his appearance when he was mortally wounded or when he feared typecasting. As a result, several actors went on to play the role, with Tom Baker (here's a pic in his usual attire and expression) the most famous, especially on this side of the Atlantic.
For some reason, a brief sighting of an episode on PBS (in the same year that Jesse Hey was born), glorious in its witty writing, cardboard sets, and freaky music, had me hooked and I was on my way to becoming the closet Doctor Who uber-geek that speaks to you today. Unfortunately, the show was finally cancelled at about the same time that my interest in the series was most rampant. The show looked to make its long awaited return to our screens in 1996, with the help of the Fox Network in the US. A pilot movie was made, but the tradition and uniqueness of the original show was lost in a flurry of motorcycle chases, tacky romantic subplots, and Eric Roberts.
Fascinating aside! : It's interesting to note that Fox also managed to ruin another favourite obsession in 1996, as that was also the same year they debuted the Foxtrak laser puck for their hockey broadcasts. And, in keeping with the hockey theme of this website, and thus validating the presence of this article on a rec league hockey website, did you know that the same man who created Doctor Who, a Canadian named Sydney Newman, was also a producer of the very first experimental broadcast of Hockey Night In Canada in 1952? True story! When Newman died in 1999, I almost thought I owed it to him and myself to go to his funeral.
Anyway, back to Doctor Who. After the failure of the Fox movie, the fortunes of the show seemed to be firmly entrenched in the realm of side tables at Star Trek conventions and the basis of a popular song knock off of Gary Glitter's "Rock and Roll, Part II". Fast forward to 2003, when, seemingly out of the blue, the BBC commissioned a new series of Doctor Who to be broadcast in its classic timeslot on Saturday night on the flagship station, BBC One. The show became a massive hit in the UK, regularly finishing in the Top 10 most watched programs each week, and raking in several prestigious awards.
Here in Canada, the show was a bit of a minor hit for the CBC. Filling a slot once occupied by the Stanley Cup Playoffs (vacated thanks to the 2004-05 NHL lockout), the show averaged about one million viewers each week opposite the bafflingly popular televised karaoke contest known as American Idol. Series Two will air Monday nights on CBC at 8:00 PM, starting on October 9.
Now, I wouldn't bestow the virtues of something, especially a television show, on this website if I didn't think that it was really, really good. It would have been tough to introduce the old series (you know, the cheap one) to people now without having to apologise for it beforehand. But this new series is fantastic. It looks and sounds terrific, it's fun and exciting, and it's made for the average viewer and does not require any knowledge of the shows' past history to enjoy it. Basically, imagine that George Lucas made new Star Wars films that were actually even better than the originals. Yeah, Doctor Who is THAT good.
And no, I don't work for the marketing department at the CBC (although I may someday, thanks to the good folks at Corus Premium Television). So do yourself a favour and check the show out - Doctor Who, Monday nights, 8:00 PM, CBC. 8:30 PM in Newfoundland.
Or tape it and watch the baseball playoffs, instead.
The Boys Of Summer
(04.03.06) I love baseball.
It seems like an unpopular thing to admit these days. I mean, nobody loves baseball anymore, do they? It's slow, it's boring, the overpaid players are juiced up six ways from Sunday on every chemical under the sun designed to build up bulk and fuel 'roid rages from here to Barry Bonds's locker stall. But I don't care.
I love baseball!
It seems like an unpopular thing to admit these days. I mean, nobody loves baseball anymore, do they? It's slow, it's boring, the overpaid players are juiced up six ways from Sunday on every chemical under the sun designed to build up bulk and fuel 'roid rages from here to Barry Bonds's locker stall. But I don't care.
I love baseball!
This passion of mine towards the great American pastime is, admittedly, a relatively recent turn of events. Great events in baseball's history seem to gain and lose its fans through the course of history. Baseball was king in the United States for much of the 20th century, until the lure of the NFL's new championship game, the Superbowl, was too much for sports fans to ignore upon the creation of the Superbowl in 1967. It's a shame, as some of the greatest teams in Major League Baseball history played during that era, teams like the three-time champion Oakland A's and the "Big Red Machine", the Cincinnati Reds.
Baseball slowly rebuilt its fan base, despite the 1981 season being chopped up due to a player strike. The 1986 World Series, or, more accurately, the bottom half of the ninth inning of Game 6 of that series, played between the New York Mets and the Boston Red Sox, was such an incredible moment in sports history. I vaguely remember the Toronto Blue Jays winning the American League East Pennant in 1985, but it was that conclusion of Game 6 in 1986 that sparked my interest in the sport. This was, of course, the infamous Bill Buckner play, where Mookie Wilson's harmless ground ball dribbled through Buckner's legs at first base, enabling Ray Knight to score from second base, giving the Mets a 6-5 win. That tied the series at 3-3, and the Mets won the series two nights later, but who remembers that?
I spent my childhood and....um....part of my adulthood building baseball parks out of Lego and re-enacting the Buckner play on my brick infested field of dreams. When the Blue Jays won those back-to-back World Series in 1992 and 1993, even the most steadfast of baseball decriers stood up and cheered. That sentiment ended with a thud for pretty much everyone I knew when a players' strike cancelled the 1994 World Series, a series that most of the country seemed convinced the Montreal Expos would win. (People forget that the New York Yankees were also enjoying their best season in years, and would have provided more than a stiff challenge for the Expos).
I didn't hate baseball after the strike, but I did become indifferent. Sure, I watched the World Series every year, on and off, but baseball had more or less fallen off my radar. Nobody outside of four of the five boroughs of New York wanted the Yankees to go on the run that they did in the late 1990's, winning the series four times in five years. Did that keep people from truly loving the sport, including me? Possibly. Even the underdog story of the Anaheim Angels and their "rally monkey" in 2002 filled me with intense apathy.
In 2003, things changed. Both the Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs were in the playoffs. This was monumental. Neither team had won anything since before the Industrial Revolution, often losing spectacularly in the process. And they both did it again. Boston imploded in their series against the hated Yankees, and the Cubs, thanks to a Buckner-esque play on the part of one of their fans, blew it against the Florida Marlins.
The Cubs incident was remarkable. It illustrated how, for some reason, an inning, a game, a season of baseball, can all be decided on one little insignificant play. The play in question on this night occurred in the 8th inning of Game 6 of the National League Championship Series. The Cubs were leading the series three games to two, and were leading the Marlins 3-0 in the top of the 8th. They were five outs away from winning the series, and it looked like they would be four outs away when the Marlins' Luis Castillo hit a harmless pop fly into foul territory, where the Cubs' Moises Alou made to catch it. That's when Cubs' fan Steve Bartman, sitting in the first row of the seats along the third base line, decided that this ball was going to be the one he kept as a souvenir, and reached out to grab it, thus knocking it out of Alou's outstretched glove. Alou was furious at Bartman, and, in those one or two seconds while Alou fumed, you could just sense it - the Cubs were going to lose.
Foreshadowing is almost part and parcel in baseball. English teachers should teach foreshadowing using examples of historic baseball games, instead of tired novels from long dead authors. Maybe if they had, I would have passed English 30. Twists like the Bartman/Cubs incident are almost so profound, you'd think the games were rigged. Cue the most theatric moment in baseball history, if not all of sports history, the 2004 American League Championship Series between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees.
As long as I live, and as long as I have lived, I will have never seen a more intense, amazing, and utterly incredible moment in sports than that series. I mean, there have been some great baseball movies made (Field of Dreams, The Natural), but the Red Sox-Yankees series defied all explanation. The Red Sox, suffering from the "curse" of trading the great Babe Ruth to the Yankees back in 1918, the same year as the last Sox' championship, could only win the World Series again, it would seem, if they went through both hell and New York. And they did, losing the first three games of the series. To fully push the Sox to the point of utter desperation, the Yankees beat them 19-8 in Game 3.
And then, the magic happened. The Sox staved off elimination in both Games 4 and 5 with extra inning wins. In Game 6, Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling, his tendon stitched together seemingly with duct tape, as evidenced by his blood soaked sock, led the Sox to a win to tie the series at 3-3. But the Red Sox always lose, right? They always have, and even after the Sox jumped out to a 6-0 lead in Game 7, I was just waiting for the collapse to happen, but it didn't. Somehow, it didn't, and the Red Sox had vanquished the Yankees. They then went on to win the most anticlimactic World Series ever played when they swept the St. Louis Cardinals, but, in keeping with the sheer magic of baseball, won the fourth and final game on the same night as a total lunar eclipse.
We're lucky we have video footage of all this, because I wouldn't believe some old codger in a retirement home if he spun me that yarn. And that's the magic of baseball. Unlike almost every other sport, time is not the enemy. No deficit is insurmountable, and no lead is safe. Anything is possible, and it is so intense to watch. Come playoff time, the game is almost tailor made for television. There seems to be time enough for five or six extreme close-ups in between each pitch to build up the tension...and then the batter fouls the pitch away, starting the whole pressure cooker again.
I never got into the Edmonton Trappers until it was far too late, and I now regret it. It will take me a while to drum up the enthusiasm to go to Cracker Cats games on a regular basis, but I will. There is no better way to spend a lazy afternoon than sitting in the sun watching a baseball game. Baseball seems to be an acquired taste, and my appreciation for it increases with age. With the 2006 MLB season starting up, I will watch and wait for baseball's next magical moment. I shouldn't have to wait too long.
Nike's Not So Swift Move
(12.13.05) So it's Christmas time, and, for most of those who celebrate such events, the mass over consumption of candy, food, booze, and cheaply made yet exorbitantly priced disposable electronic goods has begun, and will continue unabated until...well, really, does it ever relent? Manufacturers are always wanting you, the consumer, to continue the steady cash flow from your bank account to their overstuffed coffers, and will do anything to ensure that the monetary life force that gives them all a reason to live does not dry up.
One of those manufacturers is a little company based out of Portland, Oregon, called Nike. Now, the economic practices of Nike could fill a Sharpy's Corner on its own, but would not necessarily be relevant to the general tone of this website (which is often described as a "reasonable way to waste two hours of your life that you didn't really know what to do with, anyway". Funny, I've also heard that said about most Michael Bay movies). Anyway, the one aspect of Nike that does pertain to the here and now is the fact that they have been designing the uniforms of the International Ice Hockey Federation since the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan. To their credit, the boys and girls from Nike came up with some nifty designs for the participating teams; indeed, the Bee Sharps have utilized the Nike design for hockey superpower Kazakhstan as the basis of their home and away jerseys.
Well, now Nike, in their constant attempt to be "cutting edge", have made a misguided turn towards such previous attempts at trying to change the hockey world (think "Cooperalls") with the re-design of Canada's on-ice look, to be debuted in late December at the World Junior Championships in Vancouver. The new design, called the Nike Swift, features new space age fabrics, air vents, and aerodynamic striping patterns that culminate in one of the more notable eyesores since the Vancouver Canucks decided in 1978 that Halloween was worthy enough to be celebrated all year round, and dressed according to that belief. Here's a picture of Simon Gagne shoe-horned into the new "duds" :
And shoe-horned is the optimal word here. One of the more enduring images from the Team Canada practice in August to launch these atrocities was Todd Bertuzzi requiring the help of three of his teammates to stretch his new jersey over his shoulder pads. The jersey is designed to be snug (for "snug", read "too small") to increase aerodynamics and cut down on the overall weight of the uniform. According to the official Hockey Canada press release (which you can read for yourself here), the design has managed to shave off an astounding 500 grams of weight, resulting in a much faster player. Because, of course, it was the jerseys that were slowing the game down all this time. Sorry, Jacques Lemaire. We forgive you.
Of course, the new jerseys have hit the shelves across the country in time for Christmas. But, despite the decrease in fabric used to make the jerseys, the price to own one has, alarmingly, remained constant. Of note, the replica jerseys are designed to fit more like a traditional jersey rather than the versions that will be worn by the players. This is entirely dependent on the size of the sports fan wearing the new jersey, of course. Given that the USA is also trotting out a similar design (which, like Canada's, is almost completely devoid of any strping whatsoever, resulting in what looks like a glorified, $120 practice jersey), Keith Tkachuk had better get on the eliptical trainer. And fast.
Oh, and what's that, you say? "Thankfully, the NHL, at least, still has tradition on its side". Not so fast. Reebok is currently designing a similar skin-tight jersey to be used by all 30 teams in 2006-07, including different coloured jerseys for goaltenders. It's all for the improvement of the "on-ice product" of course (remember when hockey was called a "game"?), but we all know it's about the money. Reebok and the NHL are banking on the millions of superfans out there to remain as current with their fashions as their heroes are on the ice.
I should know. In a past life, as some who know me may be aware, I was known as "Jersey Steve" because of my propensity of wearing a different hockey jersey every day. I had about a hundred jerseys in total (I still do), and was constantly sucked into buying each new one that came out. I even own a New York Islanders "Cap'n Highliner" jersey. Ick. Thankfully, I saw the light a few years ago, and stopped shelling out my not-so-hard-earned money on these things, but, sadly, I am in the minority. The vast majority of sports fans out there are sucked into buying, especially around Christmas, new home jerseys, away jerseys, third jerseys, retro jerseys - I mean, where does it all end?
Doesn't everybody know that the art of the hockey uniform was perfected with this? :
One of those manufacturers is a little company based out of Portland, Oregon, called Nike. Now, the economic practices of Nike could fill a Sharpy's Corner on its own, but would not necessarily be relevant to the general tone of this website (which is often described as a "reasonable way to waste two hours of your life that you didn't really know what to do with, anyway". Funny, I've also heard that said about most Michael Bay movies). Anyway, the one aspect of Nike that does pertain to the here and now is the fact that they have been designing the uniforms of the International Ice Hockey Federation since the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan. To their credit, the boys and girls from Nike came up with some nifty designs for the participating teams; indeed, the Bee Sharps have utilized the Nike design for hockey superpower Kazakhstan as the basis of their home and away jerseys.
Well, now Nike, in their constant attempt to be "cutting edge", have made a misguided turn towards such previous attempts at trying to change the hockey world (think "Cooperalls") with the re-design of Canada's on-ice look, to be debuted in late December at the World Junior Championships in Vancouver. The new design, called the Nike Swift, features new space age fabrics, air vents, and aerodynamic striping patterns that culminate in one of the more notable eyesores since the Vancouver Canucks decided in 1978 that Halloween was worthy enough to be celebrated all year round, and dressed according to that belief. Here's a picture of Simon Gagne shoe-horned into the new "duds" :
And shoe-horned is the optimal word here. One of the more enduring images from the Team Canada practice in August to launch these atrocities was Todd Bertuzzi requiring the help of three of his teammates to stretch his new jersey over his shoulder pads. The jersey is designed to be snug (for "snug", read "too small") to increase aerodynamics and cut down on the overall weight of the uniform. According to the official Hockey Canada press release (which you can read for yourself here), the design has managed to shave off an astounding 500 grams of weight, resulting in a much faster player. Because, of course, it was the jerseys that were slowing the game down all this time. Sorry, Jacques Lemaire. We forgive you.
Of course, the new jerseys have hit the shelves across the country in time for Christmas. But, despite the decrease in fabric used to make the jerseys, the price to own one has, alarmingly, remained constant. Of note, the replica jerseys are designed to fit more like a traditional jersey rather than the versions that will be worn by the players. This is entirely dependent on the size of the sports fan wearing the new jersey, of course. Given that the USA is also trotting out a similar design (which, like Canada's, is almost completely devoid of any strping whatsoever, resulting in what looks like a glorified, $120 practice jersey), Keith Tkachuk had better get on the eliptical trainer. And fast.
Oh, and what's that, you say? "Thankfully, the NHL, at least, still has tradition on its side". Not so fast. Reebok is currently designing a similar skin-tight jersey to be used by all 30 teams in 2006-07, including different coloured jerseys for goaltenders. It's all for the improvement of the "on-ice product" of course (remember when hockey was called a "game"?), but we all know it's about the money. Reebok and the NHL are banking on the millions of superfans out there to remain as current with their fashions as their heroes are on the ice.
I should know. In a past life, as some who know me may be aware, I was known as "Jersey Steve" because of my propensity of wearing a different hockey jersey every day. I had about a hundred jerseys in total (I still do), and was constantly sucked into buying each new one that came out. I even own a New York Islanders "Cap'n Highliner" jersey. Ick. Thankfully, I saw the light a few years ago, and stopped shelling out my not-so-hard-earned money on these things, but, sadly, I am in the minority. The vast majority of sports fans out there are sucked into buying, especially around Christmas, new home jerseys, away jerseys, third jerseys, retro jerseys - I mean, where does it all end?
Doesn't everybody know that the art of the hockey uniform was perfected with this? :
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
(09.02.05) Oh, what an exciting time to be a hockey fan/player, as we are heralding the return of rec league hockey, and it's pale imitator, the NHL. Actually, the return of the 24%-less overpaid millionaires of the National Hockey League is getting me all giddy. Yeah, I missed it, and the lack of the NHL probably reduced my interest in the great game of hockey over the summer months. Mind you, if you had to play defence with Scott Hutcheon all summer, wouldn't you get sick of the game, too? How do you do it, Landon?
Anyway, nobody from the NHL or NHLPA read my page-and-a-half-long solution to every single on-ice problem the NHL is facing these days (click here to read that), but the stuff they did tinker with should be exciting. It's about time they put in shootouts. Now all NHL fans can whine and cry out that a shootout is no way to decide a hockey game - a complaint reserved purely for the international fan for many years (and AHL fans, but then, we never had any of those last season in Edmonton). The Sharps have yet to endure a shootout, or, to use the more colloquial European football term, "penalties", in our brief history. Heck, we only had our first tie game last year. There are Wal-Mart employees who have been paid more overtime than we have.
Also, the NHL has finally followed the ERHL's lead and removed the two-line pass. I predict Martin Brodeur will break Grant Fuhr's record of 15 assists in a season in '05-'06, and will be the first goalie to have a goal of his waved off because he shot the puck from outside that strange trapezoid crease that will be behind the nets this season. Finally, it's also nice to see that the NHL went out of its way to appease the fans of the Minnesota Wild and kept that dreadful no-touch icing out of the game. Races to negate icing calls are to the Land of 10,000 Lakes as NASCAR is to Carolina, and both competitors have an equal number of teeth.
The Yellow Jackets had as bipolar a season as one can imagine this summer in the ERHL, winning their first seven games, then never again for the rest of the year. It's good to see Adam Dickinson leave, too, as his 25 goals in 11 games were just dragging the whole team down. We'll also miss Ernst Gerhardt and Matt Stephens, both of whom are bolting for not-so sunnier climes, but at least Matt will have a mini-farewell tour for the first few games of the season.
Personally, after the Jackets' season wrapped up, me and Bee Sharps superfan Brandi went on a road excursion throughout the American Southwest. Utah, for those who have never been, is Mars. It is the planet Mars. Some truly unbelievable scenery unique to that region, like Mars (I've been there. Twice). Also, there are these strange beings called "Mormons" who water down their beer and wear full body underwear in the middle of the desert. There not so strange on Mars after all (again, been there. Twice).
I also managed to finally get to the bottom of my bootleg....err, I mean my 100% legally obtained version of Photoshop. The results of my sleepless experiments are littered about the newly polished beesharps.com (call it version 2.2, if you must). The hockey cards and pictures have all been redone, the colours match those of our jerseys and, oh yeah, we have a new logo! Typically, if I was in a marketing department, I'd have included some inane press release, rife with such buzzwords like "brand synergy" and "wordmark" and give you an indepth three-paragraph explanation behind the meaning of each wing on Sharpy's back. Fortunately, it's my belief that marketing departments will be the first against the wall when the revolution comes, so, here's my press release for the new logo :
Here's our new logo. I think it looks kinda neat.
Now, wasn't that a lot easier? Hope you like the new look, and we'll speak again in the future.
Website Woes And Whimsy
(04.26.05) Summer is almost upon us! About time too, I say. There's nothing quite like the feeling of straggling into the rink in shorts and flip flops, playing hockey in a rink some 20 degrees colder than the outside environ, then slipping into same shorts/flip flops and wander out into the still prevalent sun of a northern Alberta summer.
I also look forward to this time of year because it means that I take a nice break from this website, beesharps.com, that you all hopefully enjoy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy doing the site and all that, but we all need a break from even our greatest passions, and the summer months is when I take my sabbatical from the grind of game summaries, statistical anomalies, and the assorted day-to-day tasks that it takes to maintain probably the most bombastic, over-the-top rec league website out there.
Part of the reason I take the summer season off (sorry, Yellow Jackets) is that the statistics kept up by the off-ice officials during the game are, well, a little lacking. I discovered this last season, as several of our games didn't list the roster on the gamesheets, and with half the players in summer league wearing beat up practice jerseys emblazoned with a hastily created #11 made out of discarded sock tape, I need all the help I can get. How else am I to fully represent the lineups of both teams, thus alerting each player as to the identity of the player from the opposing team that once said something bad about his mother?
Plus, it's nice to come home and relax after a game. In winter, it usually takes me two hours to update everything that needs updating after a Bee Sharps game. If you think two hours is long, you should have seen me at the beginning of this odyssey.
The Bee Sharps website started, inconspicuously, in October 2002. I honestly can't remember who suggested the idea to me, but it was a notion that was swimming around my head ever since I had wanted to make a website about my Playstation NHL '98 Team England squad. Wouldn't you want to follow the exploits of superstar English centre Nick Brain, or to see how many bad goals Angus Gray had let in against Kazakhstan?
Well, having run a website for my old band Flying Saucer Moonship (the last version of which can be found here, for those interested), I decided to have a crack at my first sports website. I begged, borrowed, and stole bits of code from all over the web (thanks to those anonymous sites who helped me out in the dark days) and set about creating the site. My main objective and guiding force in setting it all up was this : if I was a fan and the Bee Sharps were my favourite team, what would I want from their website? The answer : statistics, history, records, stories, and pictures.
Well, the pictures were the hard part, as we had no visual record of our games through the first one and three-quarter seasons of our existence. Team England to the rescue! I decided to create a Bee Sharps team in the PC version of NHL 2002, recreate certain plays from Bee Sharps games, and take screen captures of the results. Sometimes, I would enjoy playing the game so much that I forgot the pictures and led a computerized Bee Sharps onslaught against teams that we probably had just lost to in the "real world". We may have never beaten the Chain Gang on the ice, but, by gar, we got their number in robot land!
Thankfully, Landon Lewsaw obtained a digital camera from work in February 2004, and the site really approached legitimacy after that. Not that the digital camera was top notch. Landon received it for free from his place of work, and there's a reason that it was free. It is a huge machine; a true relic. It reminds me of the cameras on The Flintstones, both in its size and form, as well as in its function. In order to properly take a picture, one must press and hold the button for at least three seconds, allowing enough time for the small pterodactyl inside the camera to hurriedly chip away the image he sees onto a nice piece of granite. After taking a picture with this thing, hold up the camera to your ear, and you can hear the little dino-bird inside crack wise, with dented beak, "Meh, it's a living."
By the time the 2004-05 season started, the amount of information I wanted to put up on the site was stretching my work time to over three hours. Thankfully, a new version of Microsoft Office dropped into my lap, complete with a program called FrontPage. With this program, I no longer needed to tirelessly adjust ream upon ream of gobbledygook html code. I could now quickly, and easily, create and update pages in the blink of an eye like the rest of the free (and not so free) world has been doing since, oh, 1997.
My night of work begins with the typing up of the scoring summary, followed by the updating of the statistics and career statistics pages (all these are done with Microsoft Excel, for those who are inclined to know). I then upload the photos from the camera disk and create the photo page for the game. Next, I update the hockey cards, schedule page, and records page (if any records were broken that night). At this point, I update the front page, choosing a title picture and snappy headline. The last thing I do is the game write-up. I do this last as I use the summary and photos to jog my memory of the night's action. I will admit something here - I don't actually read my own write-ups. For shame! After almost two hours of working, I'm quite done for the night, as my bleary eyed expression would tell you. I then slump off off bed, and await the inevitable emails from James Seabrook, my unofficial proof reader, who points out all the broken and incorrect links that I happen to have missed from the night before.
So there you go. For those of you out there who think I don't have a life because of this site, I honestly do, but rarely have I closed a pub down with my fellow Sharps teammates after a game. I also would be remiss if I didn't mention all the help I get keeping this little time waster of a website afloat. The afore-mentioned pictures are most often taken by Brandi Charles (that's me girlfriend!), Jackie Lewsaw, Greg Anselmo, and Bess Sadler (if any other Bee Flats have taken pictures, please let me know!). Our plus/minus statistics are also tabulated by Bess and Brandine, although Jackie, Jannette Hurshowy, and Lisa Schulz have also helped along the way. Finally, the BeakBoard that we all enjoy venting vitriolic on about all things Sharps was created and maintained by Matt Stephens who, sadly, along with his wife Bess, will be defecting to the red state of Virginia soon, bent on bringing down the Republican machine from within. Fear not, though, as the Board, and this site, will continue to run until indifference renders it obsolete.
Thanks to all for reading.
Noche Del Hockey sobre hielo En México
(03.10.05) March is upon us, and with it, my favourite time of year on the sports calendar. Even with no NHL to keep the masses occupied during what would be the playoff run right about now, there is still plenty to entertain me. No, it's not the NCAA basketball and accompanying March Madness that stirs the pot for me, nor is it the overpaid professionals of the NBA that causes me to pause on my way up and down the TV dial (if my TV had a dial, that is). Is it the crack of the bats one can hear around south Florida as 30 baseball teams not playing in Montreal gear up for the upcoming season that entice me so? No, good people, it is something even better.
As I type this, Mexico is preparing for what should be an intense match against South Africa in a tournament being played on Mexico's home turf in the Distrito Federal. The Mexicans are coming off of a close 2-0 victory over Luxembourg on March 7, while South Africa defeated Armenia on that same day. Ireland rounds out the five-team tournament. Why am I informing you of this, you may ask? Because this isn't soccer I'm talking about here. No, it is the 2005 IIHF Division III World Championship...of ice hockey.
Mexico always seems to be the host of one major international tourney a year, thus confirming its hotbed status of Canada's national sport (and you thought it would be New Zealand, didn't you?). They previously hosted the 2005 Under 20 Division III Championship (aka, the 'D' Pool) in January, a tournament won by host Mexico, who coasted to a perfect 5-0-0 record over such ice hockey juggernauts as Iceland, Turkey and, yes, those dastardly Kiwis.
Mexico's meteoric rise up the hockey rankings will depend on how they do against the mighty South Africans. That afore-mentioned victory over Armenia, where the Soviet Red Army hockey team clearly never exerted their influence in the days when Armenia was under the yoke of the USSR, was an ugly one, the final score being 33-1. Yes, 33-1. Let's take a look at this for a second. There were some NFL teams this year that didn't score 33 goals. Heck, that's half the amount of goals the Bee Sharps have scored all year. Yes, 33-1. South Africa opened the scoring 1:10 into the first period, a period in which they scored 11 goals, outshooting Armenia 21-2.
The South Africans scored six more times before the halfway mark of the second period, when they decided that the first period onslaught on their goaltender, Gary Bock, had battered him, and so in went his goaltending namesake Ashley Bock to try and stave off the Armenian assault. Ashley failed in his quest, however. With just 52 seconds to play in the game, and South Africa clinging tenaciously to a 33-0 lead, Simon Yeghyayan slipped one past Ashley Bock, a goal since called "The Shot Heard Round Yerevan". South Africa managed to stem the uncoming tide, and held on for the victory. The final shots tally was 59-5, in favour of South Africa (no, really). Michael Fraquet was Darryl Sittler for a day, registering 10 points (4G, 6A), and finishing the game +12. The sound you hear is that of NHL scouts bristling. One really must question the sadistic nature of Armenian coach Gagik Vardanyan, though, who left poor Armen Lalayan in net for the entire game - clearly a holdover of the old Communist regime.
And this is just one game from one tournament, one of several IIHF tournaments that take place each spring to determine hockey bragging rights around the planet. Similar tournaments are gearing up in places such as Debrecen, Hungary, and Eindhoven, Holland. The dream, perhaps one day, is for a true World Cup of Hockey to take place, featuring the top 32 hockey nations on Earth, as is done in soccer. I can see it now : the opening match of the 2012 World Cup between Canada and Armenia, with a ceremonial puck drop by Armenian-Canadian film director Atom Egoyan. One word of advice for the bettors : bet the over on that one.
NHL Excitement On Ice
(02.09.05) As we sit here in the early days of 2005, and with the inevitable cancellation of the 2004-05 NHL season seemingly days away, let us look back almost exactly ten years when we, as hockey fans, were all living with a similar situation. The NHL, of course, was enduring its first ever lockout, one that was eventually settled.
The announcement of a new collective bargaining agreement on January 10, 1995, was met with much joy and relief from hockey fans, players, and owners alike. Also keenly anticipated was the prospect of the subsequent altering of the 1994-95 season. The new season was now to consist of a shortened 48-game schedule, down from the 84-game haul of the previous year, and would feature exclusively intra-conference play. Oh, how seasoned hockey scribes and fans alike giggled with glee, anticipating almost intense, playoff-type hockey, but this time, all season long. Every game was now directly related to the standings, and it was thought that this would raise the level of play in every game.
Of course, the 1994-95 season was one of the most tepid, uninteresting few months of NHL hockey ever seen. By the time the Stanley Cup Finals wrapped up on June 24, with the New Jersey Devils hooking, holding and trapping their way to their first Stanley Cup over the Detroit Red Wings, most fans had been turned off, if they had ever even turned back on after feeling spiteful about the lockout.
Sadly, NHL hockey has followed the trend of that ill-fated abbreviated season. Once other teams saw what a team like the New Jersey Devils could do by playing safe, trapping hockey all year long, they were keen to jump on the bandwagon. The games became slower, and goal scoring dropped. In 1993-94, the season before Lockout I (how unfortunate it is to now have to number these labour disruptions), goals were scored at an average of 6.48 per game. In '94-95, that average dropped to 5.97. With a concerted effort from NHL officials, obstruction penalties were called in full force in 1995-96, which resulted in the Velcro-like Devils to miss the playoffs, and goal scoring to bump back up slightly to a rate of 6.29 (partly thanks to the Pittsburgh Penguins and a full season with their top line of Mario Lemieux, Jaromir Jagr, and Ron Francis). 1996-97 saw goal scoring drop back down to 5.83, then 5.28 in '97-98. The decline continued up until last season, 2003-04, where a mere 5.14 goals were scored on average per game.
Other factors are often mentioned for the lack of offence in the game today - larger players on the same small ice surface and Michelin Men goaltenders being two prime examples. But let's face it. The neutral zone trap has killed hockey. Popularized by the Devils in the mid-1990's, the strategy first reached its zenith with the Montreal Canadiens of the late 1970's. Of course, that Canadiens team could also score untold amounts of goals with players named Lafleur, Shutt, and Robinson, so we never took as much notice. Mind you, the trap has been utilized in just about every third period of every playoff game ever played. Most teams trying to kill the clock and ensure an important playoff victory will almost always continue to dump the puck in and hang back, almost forming a line in a potential game of "Red Rover". The games were almost always intense, though, because the significance of the game.
The problem is that this type of hockey has gone from being used solely in the last 10 minutes of playoff games to being a team's single offensive/defensive strategy from the drop of the puck on opening day of the season. In the Finals of 2003-04, the team that scored first won every game. That statistic is not restricted to last year's finals, either. When is the last time anyone remembers a stunning comeback that occurred in a playoff game, let alone any game played in the last ten years? There was a time when playoff games requiring multiple overtimes to decide their outcomes were exceedingly rare. The legendary Game 7 quadruple-OT match between the New York Islanders and Washington Capitals in 1987 is still fondly remembered by all who saw it. The game saw endless scoring opportunities. Does anyone share the same feelings of the 5-OT borefest that Anaheim and Dallas got themselves into in 2003? I think not.
The 1994-95 season may be seen to be the start of the decline of NHL hockey, but it has its roots in a slightly earlier time. The 1992-93 season was the last season to use divisional standings for its playoff seedings, selecting the top four teams of each of the four divisions. Starting in 1993-94, the league went to an NBA-style, conference based playoff setup, where the top eight teams of each of the two conferences went to the playoffs. The new system meant that a particular team would be up against half of the teams in the league for a playoff spot, as opposed to four or five teams in the old divisional set-up. With the unbalanced schedule in place, this meant that one team could expect to play most of its games against teams that it was in direct competition against to make the playoffs. In 2003-04, the Oilers, for example, played 56 of their 82 games against Western Conference opponents.
The format has altered the mentality of NHL teams. "Two points" seems to be the must commonly uttered phrase by NHL players in post game interviews, almost from the start of the season. With every game so vital to the standings, coaches are afraid to lose, and they must arrange their game plans accordingly to get as many points, through wins or overtime games, as possible, and at any cost. The result is like two Scotsmen, each with an armload of cash, wondering how best to obtain a second armload of cash on a table without having to drop the first one.
The solution would be to revert back to a divisional playoff system with four, larger divisions created out of the current sextet of divisions that currently exist. Also, the teams would play a more balanced schedule, with more games against teams in other divisions. This would put less pressure on teams in more games, and increase the intensity in games between divisional opponents. Of course, any solution for the woes of the National Hockey League are dependent on the end of the labour situation first, and who here really can see that happening anytime soon?
Happy Non-Denominational Holiday
(12.21.04) So here we are, most of us anyway, sitting back and reflecting on the past year and the year that is to come. In honour of this holiday season, I would like to offer a Christmas, or sorry, non-denominational, wish, to the following :
To Yasir Syed : Softer end boards in ERHL rinks.
To Dale Au : a daytime job, and a full time slot on the Sharps.
To the Knights of Columbus Arena : New dressing rooms, so that the janitors can have their eight broom closets back.
To Ernst Gerhardt : A couple goals for his little son Eli.
To the Oilers and Prowlers : Matching road uniforms. Take it from Roger Davis and Andrew Degenhardt - the novelty of masking tape on practice jerseys wears off, along with the masking tape.
To Sacha Pelletier : A "hardest working player" award of his own, so the rest of us can win it once in a while.
To Matt Stephens : The ability to bottle and sell his undying passion and enthusiasm for playing hockey.
To James Seabrook : Offensive support from his teammates, so that one of the top statistical goaltenders in the league can have a winning record.
To the Klondike Maulers : A roster consisting of five total players in our next game, resulting in a default loss. It seems to be the only way we can beat you.
To Chris McTavish : An Edmonton campus for Loyola University.
To Jeff Cowie : I'd wish him more heart, but that would be impossible.
To the Stars in Division VI : Continued team success without anyone named Steve Sigaty or Ken Batchelor.
To Brent Cochrane : Many more games with the Sharps in 2005 than the half dozen you were able to play in the first half of the season.
To Tom Griener and Abby Campbell : A happy engagement and a lovely May wedding.
To me : A haircut, humility, and a broken keyboard.
To the Bee Flats : Anything you want, because you are far too good to us.
To everyone : A happy holiday season and a prosperous 2005.
Saturday Night Fever
(12.01.04) It seems to have almost become en vogue to not miss the locked out NHL these days. To proclaim that one longs for the opportunity to sit through an exhilarating 1-1 tie between Minnesota and Colorado is to be the epitome of passé. We're all too cool to care about the NHL anymore, what, with all these wonderful poker championships now gobbling up the unused airtime on various sports networks. Well, call me uncool if you will, but, now that the unthinkable has happened in the sports world (the Boston Red Sox winning the World Series, and the Argonauts winning the Grey Cup...and having Toronto care slightly more than nothing about the result), there is a void.
Maybe it's because the Bee Sharps haven't played a "traditional" Saturday night game in sometime, and thus, I have to find other things to do on Saturday nights. Anyone who plays in the ERHL knows what Saturday nights at the ol' K of C Arena are like. The rink is full of life, with players coming, going, scoring, and falling (mostly falling). And all the time, out in the lobby, that little black and white TV set sits, pumping out 3 watts of Hockey Night in Canada action as best as its battered aerial can muster. If our beloved Oilers happened to be playing while we're getting ready for our own game, a couple of us would pop out and watch the game for a spell, twisting our eyes in a desperate attempt to make out a player or two (forget trying to see the puck) through the curtain of static that stands for the best a coat hanger antenna can produce these days. Usually, the most one can decipher is the scoreboard in the top corner of the screen, almost always not in the Oilers' favour. But there is a certain romanticism to the whole thing, a sort of common link to those fans of the 1950s who crowded around their 7" television sets, swathed in the eerie, radioactive glow that manifested itself in the form of the Montreal Canadiens or, saints forefend, the Toronto Maple Leafs.
Where do we go for our hockey fix now? Well, I finally managed to make it out to an Edmonton Road Runners game recently. This is not Don Cherry's AHL anymore. There were kids' games on the Jumbotron, the opportunity to throw a large selection of orange prize pucks onto the ice, and a giant inflatable Road Runner head that was quickly set up for the Runners to skate through upon their arrival onto the ice (the illusion spoiled immeasurably by the arena crew dragging out the fully deflated head in full view and in complete illumination prior to the ceremony). There was even a hockey game, which was only moderately entertaining, like the on-ice "product" that it was replacing. I reasoned that the main difference between the AHL and the NHL is that once players are too good for the AHL, they get promoted to the big leagues. As a result, all AHL rosters are left with are 20-23 infuriatingly similar players, and Tony Hrkac. To further sour my first Road Runners experience, the next home game for the team was being billed as "Faith and Family Night", complete with a religious motivational speaker waxing his diatribe at buzzer's end. Not only has the NHL been punted from the hallowed halls of Rexall Place, but Edmonton's hockey shrine has now been annexed by George Bush's America, at least for one night.
So, instead of actually paying to go watch hockey games, I am finding myself attending more and more ERHL games. The price is right, I almost always get a good seat, and the game result usually means more to me than any afore-mentioned Minnesota-Colorado games could affect me (North Stars vs Rockies, let alone Avalanche vs Wild). Last week, I saw a rag tag bunch of cast-offs called the Ice Hawks win their first game in their young history, a thrilling 6-5 overtime win over the Souls. Now, what could be more uplifting than that?
Well, a Bee Sharps/Edmonton Oilers double Saturday night victory, for old times' sake.
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