The Middle-Aged Guide to Growing Up: The Skinny on Shinny

Editors Note: A. Boomer is the alias of a CARP member who shares his experiences about growing up and growing old every two weeks in the CARP Action Online newsletter. He is back by popular demand from our readers after publishing his first series, the The Caregivers Diary. For newer readers who might be unfamiliar to the Caregivers Diary columns, they are available in archive. Over the course of a few years, the writer described his experiences caring for his mother, father, father-in-law and mother-in-law during their final days. Since the passing of his father, he now cares for himself. Hence the name of his latest series The Middle-Aged Guide to Growing Up, in which he will tackle, among other things, the transitions he is experiencing, taking care of his health his finances and of course, living life to the fullest.
Yvan Cournoyer circumvented concern over his size by combining blazing speed and superb stickhandling into a Hall of Fame career that saw him collect ten Stanley Cup championships. In 1964-65, he became a full-time member of the Montreal Canadiens.
Yvan Cournoyer circumvented concern over his size by combining blazing speed and superb stickhandling into a Hall of Fame career that saw him collect ten Stanley Cup championships. In 1964-65, he became a full-time member of the Montreal Canadiens.

The Skinny on Shinny

By A.Boomer

I’m a Boomer, and the Captain of my heart growing up was Yvan Cournoyer, small, speedy, uncouth and unconventional. This is the time of year when life becomes all about two things that are important to me; hockey (the Stanley Cup) and sailing (my boat goes in the water).

I loved Cournoyer because he was the kind of hockey player I thought I would have been, if I could skate; quick, evasive and pint-sized. I cant do any of the Canadian winter things though, like skating or skiing. Im strictly a summer Canadian. The only thing that gets me through the winter, when my boat is up on the hard, drifted in snow, is hockey. Lots of hockey.

I subscribe to NHL Centre Ice, which gives you the feed for every out-of-market regular season game. I can watch wretched palm-tree city teams play each other if I want to (I don’t), and I regularly watch local broadcasts from Detroit, Chicago, Boston, Buffalo and New York. The ads are fascinating. The one thing in common is personal injury lawyer ads in every city. Detroit runs booster ads about how the city isn’t dead yet, while the ads in Nashville are all for trucks and BBQ.

Mind you, I don’t watch very closely. I find I need to have a hockey game ranting at my elbow when I’m writing – it helps the concentration. I like the rhythm of the announcers voice and the noise of the crowd, rumbling on with the obsessive play-by-play, occasionally rising to a fever pitch as a goal is almost made, or almost missed, and then subsiding again. The best thing is a game that gets tied up in the middle of the third period. Overtime! Shootout! Excitement!

Then theres any gamed called by Bob Cole. The octogenarian CBC announcer makes every pass a thrill, every icing call a crushing disappointment, and when he says Oh baby, its all happening, you know it is, indeed, ALL happening.

I root for the Habs, les Glorieux, les Boys, le bleu blanc rouge. I always have, ever since my Captain was Cournoyer. But Ill cheerfully support Detroit, Chicago or even the dreaded and hated Bostons into the playoffs. Any original 6 team but the Leafs and the Rangers. I wont support the Leafs because who needs that much heartbreak. Its like dating a monstrously rich woman for years and never getting to first base. The Rangers were bullies when I was growing up, and who can root for a New York City team, any team, anyway?

Commissioner Bettman pursued his controversial sunbelt strategy to the detriment of hockey, I think. Better to have a small market team in Duluth or Saginaw or Hamilton selling out every night than a big half empty arena in a city where there are no skating rinks. You cant develop the passion for speed and excitement inherent in hockey unless you know the 5 AM practices and crappy coffee while freezing at the local rink as you watch your kid do skating drills. I think hockey is positioned as a blue collar sport in the US, ceding the elite audiences to more stately pursuits like baseball and football. The fighting doesn’t help this image. In cities where winter is real, however, hockey is everybody’s game and is a great leveler.

I recognize palm tree teams have won Stanley Cups, and the Kings almost deserve to play in a northern city. But look at what the legendary Edmonton Oilers have been able to do. A post-WHA merger team in 1979, they won 5 Stanley Cups almost in row, due to players like Wayne Gretzky, Jarri Kurri and Paul Coffey. Theres an orthopedic surgeon who lives in Edmonton who has more Stanley Cup rings than the Chicago Blackhawks. Edmonton, pop 750,000.

I have a dream. A Canadian division of 10 teams in the NHL. Add Quebec City, Hamilton and Saskatoon, all cities which would blow the roof off an NHL arena. A shorter season with more championships. US-Canada series. Bring back full period multiple OT. Gritty hockey played in gritty cities, with game misconducts for fighting and full face masks. Oh, and forget the Olympic sized rinks, hockey’s more fun when its played on something the size of a frozen swimming pool.

By day, I worry about flushing the diesel, draining the anti-freeze, sanding the decks and painting the bottom of my boat. By night, I worry about PK Subban and Carey Price. It must be spring.