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Canucks, who?

June 17, 2011

A question every Vancouverite had trouble answering because all we could think about was the destruction that took place shorty after the game buzzer sounded.

In a small way, the riot news was welcome — it kept us from thinking about the devastating loss we endured at the hands of the Boston Bruins. I’m not sure what hurt more, the cocky, agressive, just plain mean Bruins holding the cup up in our arena or the way we lost game four.

The day started out with a major case of the stomach flutters. We were all nervous. My family. My friends. The city. But I was going to a play with my sister so I was busy. I didn’t have to time to think about how they would do it, just that they would. The play was on Granville Island, not far from Roger’s arena. It seemed like we were right at the heart of it considering you could feel an excited-anxious energy in the air. It was coming from a northerly direction. The direction in which all my fellow Canucks were congregating.

We left Granville Island at 4:15 and headed home, thanking the traffic gods that there were no major holdups or accidents on the way. We half listened to the pre-game show and chatted about other things to keep our minds off the impending 60 minutes that were going to change this city one or another.

I dropped my sister off in Richmond and headed home, knowing I wasn’t going to make it in time to see the first period. But that was okay, because I think my nervousness was too much to handle. A hum in veins, a flush to my cheeks, a jitter in my legs. I was so ready for this. Seventeen years, seventeen years, seventeen years…and finally. We were here.

When the crowd started to go wild, right before the national anthem, I was sitting on Number 5 Road waiting to make a left onto Stevenson Hwy and all the hairs on my arms stood up. Even as I type this, I’m getting the willies. The roar of that crowd was deafening. Electric.

There’s no point in rehashing what happened after that because, well..we all know why. We were holding our collective breaths for that first goal. And it wasn’t us who struck first, unfortunately. The stats were good and we couldn’t win this thing if we didn’t make our mark first. It wasn’t for a lacking of trying, though. Cause our boys tried. They did. And I’m proud of them. Game seven wasn’t their best hockey, but they had a great season and a great playoff run. Before this series started I said to my husband that regardless what happened, I would be proud of them. And I am.

However, the truth is, this game seven failed to entertain. Plain and simple. Good or bad. Fault or faultless. This game was not the way game seven was supposed to play out. We perished without a peep…we just faded away without a fight. And that’s what hurts. I know they tried to try. I know they wanted it. But for whatever reason, Boston made it look like they were taking candy from a baby. Before we knew it, 60 minutes were up. The fastest game I’ve ever watched. In a blink of an eye, we were done. After months of hoping, dreaming, wishing… I suppose this is how every runner up feels. But, but…1994 didn’t feel like this.

But before we could begin to mourn the loss of our cup dreams, news of the violence in downtown Vancouver broke. With a sense of surreality, we listened to the radio and watched the live feeds. This couldn’t be happening. Oh but it was. And with horrified expressions and the taunting twitter remarks from Boston fans refreshing on Twitter we watched Vancouver destroy Vancouver.

I have far too few words to describe the anger, disappointment, fury, sadness I felt watching what was happening. What can you say in the face of this type of idiocy?

I’m not sure what we’re lacking as a society, but it’s something. Empathy, a sense of responsibility, intelligence? What? What is it? That we would allow -- by standing by, by cheering, by watching, by not dispersing — members of our city destroy it. How could we? It’s easy to say that the individuals who were perpetrating these acts of violence were professional rioters and had premeditated intentions, but there was more to it than that.

Somethings gotta give.

Seventeen

May 25, 2011

May is shaping up to be the ‘blast from the past’ month in posts, because I’ve got another one with a throwback flavor.

17 years ago today, the Canucks advanced to the Stanley Cup Playoffs in a double overtime win. And we did it again. Tonight. It’s poetic justice for the last 16 cupless seasons.

As I watched the Canucks celebrate I found myself grinning like a fool. Then my eyes started to well up with tears and I was overcome by the joy of this win. Maybe it was because I was alone (the kids were asleep, hubs was at work) but I couldn’t seem to keep the tears back.

Maybe it’s because I know what is to come and this time around I get to share some of that playoff magic with my own daughter. Watching her watch the Canuck is a lesson in the meaning of joy.

Or perhaps it reminded me of the time, 17 years ago when simple joys like this were enough to erase the troubles from my mind. That summer was my final summer with a mom who didn’t have cancer.

But if I’m really honest, I’d tell you I was crying because the Canucks reminded me of how difficult and challenging life can be. That the most simple and achievable dreams can be foiled by one wrong move. That sometimes life is just like sudden death overtime. When you’re exhausted but determined…those crucial moments riding on what you do and don’t do — whether you think you can last another second or not.

No matter how many times life pushes you down, if you get back up and keep going, one day, you will have your moment too.

Canucks, thank you for demonstrating the will to succeed. I believe.

Canucks, you need to start putting out.

May 12, 2011

Vancouverites have a strange relationship with their city’s hockey team. It’s intimate, passionate…at times volatile. Come to think of it, it’s kind of like a brand new marriage. Because our lovely blue and green bride, who weeks before the wedding wanted to get it on in the backseat of the car, won’t put out anymore.

Fast forward to real life, and we’ve been making do with getting the real thing on a quarterly basis for the last 17 years and our blue balls are about ready to fall off.

I’m not a dude, so I can’t truly empathize, but hockey and guys go hand and hand so this analogy should make sense to the boys. Only problem? I feel the same way too! And I doubt I’m the only one.

On Monday night when the Canucks defeated the Nashville Predators and the broadcasters announced that the Canucks had finally made it to round three after 17 years, it really hit me. Had it really been that long? Yes it has. An entire human being has completed elementary school and most of high school since we made it to the third round. Shit. We’ve been going on without the real thing for so long, we can’t even remember what it feels like anymore.

1994 — so very long ago. I was 12. The Canucks were on fire. And we made magic as they were just a hair’s breadth away from kissing that Cup.

No hockey fan can forget the collective building of excitement as the city watched the ‘Nucks advance round after round every other night. But I will never, ever, forget the thrill of the finals and that final nail biting game seven. I was actually on a camping trip with my seventh grade class and we listened to the entire thing, heads titled towards the portable radio, clenching each others’ hands, while a fire cackled in the background. We prayed and hoped the Russian Rocket would be fast enough, that McLean would be agile enough, that Gino would hit hard enough, and that Trevor would be as stoic as ever as he lead his team to victory. In the end, it wasn’t enough. But the magic was. You could see it in the way this team moved and breathed and worked…and you could see it reflected in the faces and hearts of this team’s fans.

Year after year, despite having what sports experts said was a great team, the Canucks failed. I’m no hockey expert so I never had the words to explain the technicalities of their loss, but every year after they’d lose in the first or second round I’d say to my husband, ‘They’re just missing heart. They just don’t want it, like we want it.’

So it was natural for me to not believe this year either. And I understand that it’s quite normal for our team to lose. I mean, someone’s gotta, ’cause there’s only one cup. But we need this. This city is hungry and desperate for this. We need to reclaim what we lost 17 years ago. We need to feel that magic again. And by god, I saw it on their faces. Kessler? He was electric. Maybe having your first baby during the playoffs is exactly what Burrows needed. And the Sedin twins? Maybe they’re not just lego men afterall! Luongo…oh, Luongo, what can I say? He had a rough start, but maybe just maybe, he’s gonna earn his keep.

So Canucks, it’s time to consummate this relationship all over again. We’re an old married couple now, but we need this. I need this. Our kids need this. And if you don’t…I think I may just have to leave you for good.

Just kidding. But it may be time for a mistress.

Graphic Artist, Writer and Girl Geek

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