It is hard to believe I am a month into writing a sports column again, it is actually how I got my foot in the door as a reporter some three decades ago now, and I am just now looking at the National Hockey League.
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Growing up in rural Saskatchewan, northeast of Tisdale, SK., Hockey Night In Canada (HNIC) was pretty much a weekly tradition. Chores were done early to ensure we were in our seats to watch the only game of the week. My earliest memories, fading somewhat as they are over a half century, Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìýhad the games in black and white. A colour television would come along, and eventually even a second channel, but on the farm HNIC remained a mainstay of my TV viewing.
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Those days of my childhood were deeply connected to the NHL. Somewhere in a box in the garage is a book from Esso where you collected stickers with gas purchases. I’m pretty sure my Dad cringed every time he bought gas so I could get the stickers, being a staunch Co-op follower back then.
I spent hours poring over that book and dreaming this player, or that might be traded to a favoured team.
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There were other collectables too. Stickers from the Lucky Dollar food store, a tiny store well off Tisdale’s Main Street, a corner grocery of the truest nature, but again Dad made stops regular enough that my book filled.
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And who can forget O-Pee-Chee sports cards?
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I collected hockey cards, never actually completing a set, but having a stack of favourite players managed through trades with classmates at recess. I could wile away hours going through those cards, tattered edges and finger smudges and dreams on every one.
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And I have followed the league ever since, although there has been some ebb and flow to my interest.
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For a time, the reign of Martin Brodeur and the trap happy New Jersey Devils, where the game was allowed to stagnate into something near unwatchable. Hockey needs speed, and shots, and scoring to be at its best and for a time all three were squeezed from the game leaving little more than a Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìýdried out husk of what hockey should be. My interest waned dramatically.
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It helped in 2011 when the Winnipeg Jets returned. I have typically cheered for the pro team in any sport which is closest to home in Canada. So the Toronto Maple Leafs when I was young, a decision supported by the fact my Dad was a Montreal fan, and I had to be different.
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Then the Jets came into the league in 1979, refugees from the World Hockey Association, a loop I kind of wish had survived, and I climbed on board, having followed the WHA Jets from the time they signed Bobby Hull.
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With the Jets back after a ridiculous move to Arizona where the team is still struggling to find fans, I started to rekindle my interest.
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Today, it is back full bore. The Jets are highly entertaining, and on TV a lot.
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The Maple Leafs are equally entertaining, and again on TV enough to follow closely.
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As of the seasonal break both teams were in playoff position, surprisingly the only Canadian teams at the time. Edmonton, Ottawa and Montreal were all expected to contend, but all three will need amazing stretch runs to climb into the playoffs.
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Calgary, number three on my fandom list, are on the bubble, and need to find consistency.
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Vancouver, my fourth team, was not expected to be in the mix, and aren’t, although they surprised early until injuries exposed their lack of depth.
But the games are exciting. Players are younger, and faster. The referees have done a good job so far this season clamping down of slashes to the hands. It all has meant entertaining hockey again, and I am totally loving it.
