hockey blog jan09

We seem to have reached the point in winter where the snow is perpetual. Not always significant, but omnipresent just the same. It's just always snowing. I've had enough.

If it seems to you that there's more this year -- and remember last winter the Toronto area set new records for snowfall -- you're right. The region is on pace to bury last year's snowfall record.

The Leafs won in Colorado last night. Wow. Didn't see that coming. I need a minute . . . You can read more here.

Speaking of Toronto, who is the greatest Leaf you ever saw play for the blue and white?

1992-93, and 1993-94 may have been the two greatest consecutive season ever put together by a Leaf from any era. He came within a whisker of leading the Leafs to a Cup final against Montreal. He played hurt. He played grumpy. We recorded more than 300 points, including playoffs.

I wish my kids had a Leaf like that to rally around on Saturday night, because he played the game with intensity that can generally only be found in dictionaries now.

The Leafs are back home tomorrow night and before the game the team will honour Gilmour, raising his number 93 to the rafters with the legends of the team's history. I'm guessing Gilmour played fewer games as a Leaf than any of those other guys. Heck, he scored a Stanley Cup winner for Calgary in 1988.

In spring 1994 the Leafs raced to a second straight conference final and they always played the BTO rock anthem Taking' Care of Business during the warm ups, and I would sprint home from work in Edmonton and bounce in front of the TV holding Patrick (who was about nine months old and considerably smaller than he is now) and tell him, THIS. This was going to be the year. Pat Burns would glare grumpily from behind the bench, Dougie would glare grumpily in the faceoff circle, Wendel would upend anyone in sight, and Felix would stand on his head in net.

Here's a great read on those two great seasons -- without doubt, the best two seasons the Leafs have had since expansion. If you're a Leaf fan, it's well worth your time.

At the other end of the scale in hockey is pure stupidity. And what happened last weekend in a college game between arch rivals Michigan and Michigan State was truly stupid. A Michigan player delivers a clean hit on a State player. A state teammate retaliates, knocking down the Michigan kid. The State player who was the target of the original clean hit is now on his feet and takes his stick to the neck of the Michigan kid, who is still down.

Whatever happened to pride and honour? You get hit. You go down. You get up. You keep playing. That's hockey.

These days, too many kids, too many parents, too many coaches see ANY big hit -- even clean ones -- as an illegal, underhanded and cowardly act that merits retaliation immediately.

If you can't take it, get out of the game. The game will be better off without you.

In this instance, Michigan State, to its credit, suspended both attacking players from its team for the rest of the season and playoffs. One player has since quit school. I hope people take notice of the consequences of pure stupidity.

Here's some video of the whole fracas. The guy delivering the clean hit that starts the chain of events is in gold.

Apparently a lot of great people in history are left handed, in numbers disproportionate the population. Like US presidents, for example. Every president for the last 35 years, except for maybe the two worst -- Carter and George W. -- were lefties.

Still with Obama, here's a good piece from the New York Times on the new president's style around the White House.

Bush insisted on jackets and ties in the oval office. If you dared enter without both, even on weekends, brace for a dressing down.

Monday to Friday, he is all business in the office too -- but not always with a jacket because he keeps the heat way up.

And apparently his management style is he is a wanderer. He doesn't always call you to his office, he strolls the halls and comes to you. Unannounced.

Staying mindful that this is the honeymoon period for the new prez and his handlers are spinning us all mightily on what a great guy he is, it is nonetheless a fascinating bit of insight into the guy and his style.

A NY Times recipe is becoming an internet sensation. Call it what you like, it is all bacon, all the time. With sausage!

If you're on a post-Christmas, low-carb, high-protein diet . . . . well, maybe you should try some bacon.

It is the most read story on the Times site this week, and you can read it too, here.

This weekend is the first of three Oakville Minor Lacrosse Association registration sessions for the 2009 season.

All NEW players MUST provide a PHOTOCOPY of a Birth Certificate or Passport. If you are planning on trying out for a rep team in the Novice to Midget age groups you will need to also fill out a Field Registration form and provide a copy of a Birth Certificate.

No players will be allowed to participate in the pre-season camps without registering, and pre-season camps start tomorrow night.

So, um, like, register. Don't show up at the camps whining that you'll register next week. Register, then show up.

Let's review: registration = participation in pre-season camp. NOT show up at camp, register later. Not registration, not participation.

Chris and the peewee white Sunopta Gators play at 9a, but have picture day before that at 8:30a.

I have a coaches/conveners' meeting at 1:30p, and Pad plays in Guelph at 3:30p. Then he has a pre-season midget rep lacrosse session at 6:30p.

On Sunday, Chris is subbing for an absent timekeeper, so we'll be at Joshua Creek at 7:20a for two glorious hours. And then we'll be back at 11:20a for his regular shift.

We're busy tonight too. I'll fill you on that Sunday morning when blogging resumes live from Joshua Creek Twin Rinks.

Drive carefully wherever the weekend takes you. Hug the kids. Even the big smelly ones.

After setting a new snow blower land-speed record for clearing the front of a driveway, my commute today was otherwise unremarkable. I know you care.

Pad -- who is still off -- has been entrusted with doing the rest of the street when he arises, sometime after lunch I expect. To my neighbours -- sorry. I don't do six driveways on mornings when I actually have to be downtown.

President Obama will visit Canada next month. The details are not yet final but one thing is already clear: the man who spent much of his life in Chicago is not afraid of a little snow or a Canadian winter. He will be the first US president to visit Canada in winter since Clinton.

Anyway, the prez got his first taste of how Washington reacts to winter -- which is to say, not well. A cold snap, some cold and ice, and presto -- his daughters' school was closed.

He wasn't impressed (even though, I suspect, he didn't have to scramble around to find day care for his kids like many here do when a snow day hits.) And the president went out of his way to remark on the situation, stopping just short of calling everyone in Washington wimps.

"We're going to have to try to apply some flinty Chicago toughness to this town," said Obama.

Maybe we can put him in charge of deciding when Halton schools should be closed.

The Leafs are in Denver to play the Avs, including former Leafs Darcy Tucker and Andrew Raycroft (who right now ranks at least second among all goalies I know named Raycroft.)

If you think the collision of the new incarnation of the Leafs with Tucker and Raycroft, stalwarts of the old version, is about to rock the cosmos, well, you'd be . . . wrong.

On the first question, I can't say. It's a mystery on a par with getting the caramel in the Caramilk. What can I say. A combination of carefully placed mind-altering drugs and bum luck, and here I am.

On the second, I can report that Teamoakville's Forssa, Finland, correspondent reports that the FOPS squad is in a bit of a funk, having dropped four in a row since having returned home. Parents are wondering if their left their "A" game in Canada.

I'm confident the Finnish lads will turn it around and at the same time I can assure the parents that while the kids left many things in Canada -- including new friends -- I don't think they left their game behind.

Bruce Springsteen has a new collection of songs out. (What to call these things now? It's not an LP. It's not a "record" in the conventional sense. It's a CD, but it's also a digital download. So, we'll call it a collection.)

We've been listening to Working on a Dream it since Tuesday night (not non-stop, but you get the drift) and I haven't made a definitive judgment on it yet.

If you like Magic, the CD before this one, then you'll probably like this . The music and structure are similar, although it is less dark and anti-Bush.

There are elements I like already. Whether I will have committed the entire work to memory in time for The Boss's appearance in Toronto in May? Not sure.

The critics are generally unenthused with the new effort, but music critics are finicky bunch, often prone to drinking each other's bath water and obsessing over what colour ascot to wear in the media pit at the Junos on the off chance that Jim Cuddy decides to stop by and chat.

Stated another way, I like Bruce and I'd buy the music anyway to see if I like it.

Just the same, some -- like Rolling Stone -- really like it. And you can read more on that here.

Listening to the radio this morning, I was reminded that not all lyricists are in the league of a Springsteen or Neil Young. On bad days, they are not even up to Billy Idol.

Two examples of bad lyrics, which when excised of the music around them make you scratch your head and mutter: "WTF?"

From former Beatle and five-star legend Paul McCartney, a lyric from the song, Let 'Em In.

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor,
Open the door and let 'em in

Not sure, but I don't think Sir Paul spent a lot of time sweating this one. But please. do let them in.

The other I heard this morning is from Phil Collins and Genesis, nearly as prolific as Paul, but not as rich. This bit of why-bother lyric is from the song, Misunderstanding.

There must be some misunderstanding
There must be some kind of mistake
I waited in the rain for hours
And you were late

Fascinating. I've spared you the part where he calls, checks the number twice, and then goes home. Sounds like my social life in 1985.

Anyway, you can have great sport mocking millionaire musicians by looking at their lyrics without the music around them. Some are just like bad blogs -- but you've already found a way to have that experience!

So, I wake up around 6a, which is a little earlier than the alarm but not much. I'm just lying there and at 6:19a, the phone rings, so naturally my first thought is, "this can't be good."

It was one of those new automated notification things from the Halton District School Board letting us know that school was cancelled today.

The phone woke Laura too and she's immediately happy because now she doesn't have to get Chris up and out the door, with his saxophone, and make him a lunch, and all of that. So all that's good.

So I'm processing the information. I'm thinking, I have an 11a meeting and a 1p conference call, but I could catch a later train and shovel the driveway before I leave for work. I haven't looked out the window yet.

So, now I'm wondering if Mel Lastman is in charge of declaring snow days in Halton and if the army is en route to Oakville to help us cope with the insurmountable act of God.

Sarcasm aside -- and I really, really hate setting aside the sarcasm, because I don't want to live in a world without sarcasm; or beer. Beer and sarcasm. Mmmmmmm. Sorry.

Sarcasm aside, the roads were greasy and the forecast is calling for 20 more centimetres of snow, conveniently scheduled to fall between the hours of 8a and 6p, perfectly timed to screw up the commute home.

So, with Pad enjoying his post-exam sabbatical and Chris booking a snow day, and Laura working from home, I am the only one from our address forced into winter's boney grasp today.

I had a dream last night that we caught Chris smoking. The likelihood of Chris smoking would be about the same as me being caught eating asparagus for breakfast. (Lower than that, actually.)

Minnesota went Wild on the Leafs last night (Wild. Get it? Minnesota Wild??) with a 6-1 win. Justin Pogge didn't get a lot of help, but it's hard to pretty-up six goals. You can read more about this dismal outing here.

In the early days of my minor hockey career, I played on a bad hockey team. I mean, we were really bad.. It was not uncommon for that team -- we were called squirts in those days -- to lose 15-0, 17-0, 14-0, etc. It was house-league level hockey, but more akin to what Ontario today would call Local League. Our little village in Nova Scotia played others like Stewiack, Milford, Lantz, Enfield, Elmsdale, Dutch Settlement and others.

If we scored a goal, or held the other team to less than 10, it was a cause for riotous celebration.

In addition to the thrashings, we players endured a lot of speeches about our character, and how learning to lose was going to develop sterling character in us all. Given the beatings, we should have all ended up as justices of the Supreme Court, because we had character to spare.

But it was true that learning to lose was a fundamental building block in the process of learning to win. We improved and eventually became a very good team and we won our share of games and championships as we got older.

But -- roll your eyes, here comes the learning moment -- I never forgot what it felt like to be on the wrong end of 17-0.

When I coached my own teams later in life, I was careful to try not to ever put another team in that position.

Not that I coached powerhouse teams, but sometimes a house league team from Oakville playing a team from another centre finds the other guys wanting for firepower.

In IP, a white-level team I coached played in a tournament in Erindale. So outmatched were our opponents that we began pulling kids off the ice, playing a man short, two men short, whatever it took to balance things out. The refs began giving the other guys penalty shots because of things like, he didn't like my hat. We tried to keep it close because the result was a foregone conclusion.

And just try telling seven year old boys not to score. It's hopeless, and who can blame them. They all want to score.

Anyway, all this stuff came back in focus this week amid the fuss over the Texas girls basketball coach who was fired for allowing his team to beat another school -- a school for girls with learning disabilities -- 100 to 0.

I can't imagine what this guy was thinking, allowing this game to get so far out of hand. They led 57-0 at the half, so obviously they didn't let up much in the second half.

And what's really sad is that the coach remains completely remorseless, completely tone deaf to the travesty of the game.

I've seen high school girls basketball. It would take a lot of work -- a lot -- for a team to both score 100 points and hold the opposition to zero.

"We played the game as it was meant to be played. My values and my beliefs would not allow me to run up the score on any opponent, and it will not allow me to apologize for a wide-margin victory when my girls played with honour and integrity."

Un huh. My values. My beliefs. Me to run up the score. Me to apologize. My girls.

Me thinks the coach lost sight of some things. Honor and integrity? Hand me a bucket.

I have little doubt most sports fans are aware of this story. Here's an interesting column reviewing the whole mess.

I have, more or less deliberately, been staying away from the raging debate in the hockey world about fighting.

It started with the terribly tragic death Jan 2 of senior hockey player Don Sanderson.

Everyone has an opinion. Gretzky says ban fighting everywhere except the NHL. Others say leave it alone. Junior leagues are taking steps to force players to keep their helmets on. On and on and on.

In today's Globe and Mail, Rick Vaive -- a marquee player in his day but no wallflower himself -- says he thinks it's time to rethink fighting's place in hockey.

The fact is pro players today are bigger, stronger, faster and so motivated by the huge stakes ($$$) that respect for an opponent appears to be an afterthought.

Watch a game on the Classic NHL channel and you will see players much smaller than those on the ice today with a lot less equipment.

Even in minor hockey at bantam and midget, athletes who are six feet and more are more and more common.

I really don't care passionately about what the NHL does. Someone will get hurt and the league will face all sorts of problems because of it -- legal, etc. They can blow their brains out, but it would be nice if they considered the example they set for kids.

What I don't see the point of is fighting in minor hockey, which right now earns a player a one-game suspension.

First, the players can't get their helmets and cages off. So there's not much damage to be done.

Second, the players have no idea how ridiculous they look. I'm sure in their mind's eyes they see themselves as warriors but honestly, it's at about the same level as watching NBA players slap fight, which is just embarrassing. Seriously guys, you look like goofs when you fight.

If you want to fight, take up boxing or ultimate fighting. But in my experience, the guys who make the most noise about spoiling for a fight are the least likely to actually be interested in getting their nose snapped in an honest fight. A lot of guys are really tough behind a cage.

Rick Vaive has a son who is 6 foot six inches playing college hockey in the US. He's already been drafted by an NHL team, but whether he will make it to the NHL remains to be seen. But Vaive's concern is that because of his size, his son will be a target for pro enforcers, even though he has zero experience fighting.

So, what's to be gained by a big guy who doesn't know how to fight having his face shattered by a big guy who contributes little BUT fighting?

If the NHL added a three-game suspension to every fighting penalty it would disappear overnight and about 35 guys would be irrelevant in the NHL.

I know Don Cherry would say the stars will be at risk because there would be no one to protect them. I don't agree. Instruct the officials to call the game the way it's written down in the rule book and the stars will be fine.

But let's get fighting out of minor hockey once and for all. Fighting now comes with a one game suspension. For a second offence, make it five. Suspend the coach for three games. For a third fight, make it a 10-game suspension.

Insist on referees calling heads blows, and make those automatic five game suspensions too.

There's only one way to bring change with kids -- or anyone for that matter. But with kids, take away something they want. Like ice time. Things will change.

We watched the NHL all-star game last night -- well, the boys watched it. I drifted in and out of the room and Laura ignored it completely, which was probably the right call.

The best part for me was the Cirque de Soleil at the opening, which was way more entertaining than anything that happened on the ice.

The peewee Sunopta Gators lost 3-2 yesterday to a very determined bunch of peewee Wranglers, so they enter the home stretch before playoffs a single point out of first, clumped in a big pack of teams all trying to stand on each other's heads to get to the top.

Given that the Gators led Sunday's game 2-0 early in the first period, it will go into the books as one of those days.

Pad had a practice last night that didn't even start until 9:30p, which is a cruel and painful hour to inflict a practice upon the parents, if not the teens expected to hit the ice.

By 9p on Sunday I am generally fairly spent from all the things the weekends bring.

Unlike many of his teammates, he completed his exams on Thursday and Friday, meaning he has this entire week off school.

As we drove to practice last night, he actually had the audacity to say it out loud.

I don't begrudge him that feeling of freedom and liberation -- because as you get older, those moments are harder and harder to come by. There's always something that has to be done, a deadline to meet, a place to be.

I told him that at the risk of sounding like a fuddy-duddy, I hoped he had a great week but my guess was that it won't be until years later that he understands how much fun he's having right now.

I am supposing that in the course of a human life, there are a handful of moments that stand above the rest.

Given the Internet-bending traffic from this site to a particular link I posted here last week, I have concluded that for ~~some~~ many of you, one of those moments will go down as The Day that I showed you Jennifer Aniston on the cover of GQ wearing only a neck tie.

Years from now you may be regaling your friends with tales of where you were when Lemieux took the drop pass from Gretzky to bury the 6-5 winner for Canada over the Soviets in the 1987 Canada Cup.

But if I posted links to those things, they would register as mere blips of data -- tiny, foam-tipped waves lapping on a beach amid a tsunami of information and images. Jen? Jen was the breaker that brings down the trees 200 feet inland.

Of all the links and photos and videos I have ever posted, and there have been lots, the readers have spoken and with one voice they have said: Jen is hot.

Regretfully for you, such things are not to become regular fodder for the blog. I would like to pretend Jen is a hockey mom and could somehow be turned into a semi-regular, semi-clad feature. Sorry.

But when I showed my lovely wife the data showing stampeding traffic to view the lovely visage of Jen, well, she cracked up and insisted I had to do a follow up. She literally slapped her thighs and laughed out loud, I think muttering something about how predictable men are. I didn't catch it.

Anyway, thusly I have on counsel from Laura told you of your collective fascination.

And because it is a Monday, and because the country is again in the grasp of winter's cold, unforgiving fingers, and because everyone on the street I passed today looked like they would rather be somewhere else, and because . . . well, because it's just a really good picture and a better way to start the week than reading me complaining about the Leafs or the OMHA playdowns or any other thing, I give you -- once more, with feeling, a larger version (not, sadly 3-D) of Jennifer Aniston.

The minor midget AA Rangers lost a second straight game to Burlington last night and will now need something akin to an act of God to have any hope of advancing to the OMHA quarter finals. I, for one, am not expecting any such divine intervention.

The Rangers dominated play in the first and the third periods but there was just no pop in the offence and two Burlington goals in the second period -- one a powerplay marker on a dubious call -- proved to be the margin of victory in the 2-0 win. The Rangers managed just three goals in two games with the Eagles and that's not going to get you very far most days.

The game was tough and generally well played and there wasn't much in the way of dirty play or low blows. An Oakville goal called back in the third period didn't help the disposition of the season ticket holders.

Nick Raycroft played terrific in the Oakville net, as he has since joining the team..

But the prospect of a spot in the Tri-County playoffs (aka The Loser Bowl) wasn't what the boys had in mind.

Chris and the Sunopta peewee white Gators returned to house league action yesterday, taking a 3-1 decision over the Vikings. We play a make-up game today and a win will put the Gators in first place by a single point with four games left before the playoffs. The division is incredibly tight and all the teams are capable of beating each other on any given day.

The Gator game was very tight. Our boys carried a 2-0 lead into the waning minutes of the third. The Vikings were pressing.

Someone -- I won't mention any names here -- urged the boys to "protect the shutout."

My guess is that sometime about, oh, 30 minutes after the first hockey game was every played, a wife or mother somewhere first uttered the words: "Did something crawl in with your hockey gear and die? In the name of God, take that bag to the garage NOW!"

When the kids are little, they don't smell too bad. And it's all new and fun and no one much notices.

By minor peewee the kids start turning into adults and, well, they stink. And the gear they wear stinks.

Anyway, the degree of odour in a hockey bag at any given moment in time generally can trigger interesting conversation.

My mother knew better than to open my gear and she certainly knew enough not to jinx me by washing my lucky under shirt.

Unlike today, where the kids wear all sorts of perspiration-wicking space-age fancy-smancy sport-specific under garments -- Under Armor and the like -- kids I played with wore some variation of a simple white Stanfields t-shirt.

Well, at least it WAS white when the season started. But the rigours of a long season of religiously preventing my mother from washing it and using it in various incarnations as not just a shirt but also a skate towel, facial tissue, flag of victory, flag of surrender, hot compress, cold compress, and training tool to compress open wounds . . . well, those things all take a toll.

So by the end of the season the shirt wasn't even close to white. It was sort of a shade of gray with all kinds of rust stains and the like of which I won't explore further.

So, all of this came rushing back yesterday as I overheard one of Chris's teammates lamenting to his dad that his Under Armor "really stinks."

And the dad said, with just the right amount of sarcasm, maybe you could throw it in the washing machine because if you think your mother is going to open your gear bag, you're nuts.

"That's nothing. You should see what a REP hockey bag smells like," he offered. Having years of experience with the sometimes violent hum from Pad's equipment, from both hockey and lacrosse, he was suddenly the sage voice of wisdom on all smell-related hockey gear topics.

"My brother's hockey equipment? It smells like Satan's fart," said Chris, to my astonishment because no one enjoys a good metaphor more than me.

One of the reasons I love coaching and being around the kids is for those quirky moments. Brilliant.

After Pad's game last night, the boys were split between wanting to watch the NHL all-star skills competition and the Crashed Ice downhill skating event from Quebec City.

There was no doubt the skills event appeals to the kids -- they get to see some of their heroes doing things with a puck without fear of being separated from their heads that they would never try in a game.

And every kid on Chris's team -- every one -- was talking about it in the dressing room yesterday.

Personally, I'd rather stick needles in my eyes than watch how many Styrofoam targets Tomas Kaberle can shatter, but the kids? They want to see it.

Now, if you were one of the 100,000 Quebec Winter Carnival partiers lining the course and all of that, that's one thing.

But I thought the races pretty much all looked the same and after watching two or three heats . . . I got bored.

Next year, let them skate with pitchforks and flame-throwers. I'd tune in for that.

Hey MOHA -- good news! You can get off my convener's back now (and hey convener!! You can get off my back now!!) because my police check came in the mail on Friday. I filed for it in late September.

The police check is a police clearance MOHA wisely insists all its volunteers have. The time it is taking the good folks in the Halton police service to complete these checks seems to be getting bigger and bigger, no doubt because more and more associations are insisting on them for volunteers.

Just FYI, my record is clean. Well, except for that messiness with CSIS, the Vatican, the CIA and the KGB in the 1980s. What? You think the Berlin Wall came down by itself?

As usual I'm at Joshua Creek -- it's Sunday, Chris is timekeeping novice blue house league hockey.

The Sharks and Wranglers just played to a 1-1 draw. Each team had a breakaway in the last minute to win. Each goalie made the big save.

Sometimes the days just get away from you and that's exactly what happened to me Thursday. Hence, no blog.

Had I been here I'd have told you that the minor midget AA Rangers looked like world beaters for the first half of their game in Burlington on Wednesday, and then looked like egg beaters for the second half. They surrendered a 3-1 lead and ended up losing a 5-3 decision, with an empty net goal.

So, they are basically now in the proverbial must-win situation on Saturday evening at home. If they lose, they are not advancing to the quarter finals -- unless you believe that Guelph is going to beat Burlington twice.

And I think there's about as good a chance of that happening as there is of Jennifer Anniston muscling her way into my house and insisting on trying on my neck ties.

If that joke is lost on you, then you need to click here to see the January cover of GQ Magazine.

If you clicked on that link, and if you are still reading at this point, I'll continue.

Big weekend for Chris and the Sunopta Gators -- two games. One is their regular weekly game, the other is a makeup game for league action missed last week while the team was in Welland. The team remains in the thick of the hunt for a top spot in their division and they will be working hard to secure a pair of wins.

Oh. The Leafs blew a lead and lost to the Bruins on Wednesday night in a shootout. Now, it's not like I actually expected them to win the game. Far from it. But then they came out and played like something resembling a hockey team in the first period and part of the second, before giving up the lead and eventually losing. (Minor midget Rangers -- does any of this sound familiar?)

The good news is they won't lose this weekend. It's the all-star break. Lots of Leafs will get lots of rest, unencumbered by tacky invitations to come to Montreal and play in the game. Tomas Kabrele and Luke Schenn -- who will play in the rookie game -- are the only Leafs making the trip.

Here's an odd bit of data. I've picked up a couple Russian readers, just southeast of Moscow.

And what's even weirder is that one of them has gone to the trouble to have this page translated into Russian using one of those Google translation gizmos.

I was going to say that the reason I wasn't here yesterday was because I was busy translating the page into Russian, but I figure only about half of you would believe that. (Not you -- you're one of the smart ones.)

Anyway, to read this blog in the language of Tolstoy, click here. Maybe I'm going to get sued in Russian? That would be new.

The other weird thing was a reader landing here from Sri Lanka. I sometimes get emails from Oakville hockey parents travelling the world on business and maybe that's what this is. Still, it's way out of my usual Golden Horseshoe-Finland base. Welcome.

Sorry for the brevity but too many things going on to do a lot more this morning.

Have a great weekend and drive carefully wherever the hockey gods take you this weekend.

The minor midget AA Rangers are in Burlington tonight and, bluntly put, they need to suck it up and play hockey.

The team has great gobs of talent at every position but the squad often falls into a trap of retaliation penalties and brain cramps that cannot be compensated for with brilliant physical skill.

Burlington is a real hockey team, and the two have met twice this year. They each won once.

Slotted in a preliminary grouping together with Guelph and St. Catherine's, only one of these teams is going to advance to the OMHA quarter finals.

In all probability it will be the team -- and I'm not ruling out Guelph as a possible threat, either -- that decides it prefers to play the games on the ice and not from the penalty box. It will probably be the team that yaps less and skates harder.

I'm not saying anything the coaches haven't told them. But tonight will be the first test of the playoffs.

The Leafs host Boston tonight in what will mercifully be their final game before the All Star Game break.

The Leafs are proving they are every bit as bad as pre-season predictions made them out to be. Boston is one of the top four teams in the entire league, so the clouds are gathering over Bay and Lakeshore. I have low expectations.

Whether I get to go to Burlington and cheer on the Rangers, or end up on home-front duty wincing at the Leafs, will largely depend on vocational matters beyond my control.

Holy cow. Ottawa won again last night. I believe that's three of the last four for the team I Love To Hate, leaving them a mere . . . two points behind the entirely and totally hapless Leafs and a full 12 points out of a playoff spot.

I realize I have a bigger fascination with the change in government south of the border than some people, so, sorry.

But indulge me to point out three items worth reading for those of you who are likewise interested.

The first, here, is from the New York Times and it tells the remarkable story of how the Bushes moved out of the White House and the Obamas moved in, all in the course of a three hours, all entirely seamless and invisible to the families.

If you've ever moved -- and believe me, we have (Halifax to Ottawa to Edmonton to Ottawa to Toronto) -- then you will find this interesting. And all you have to do is become the president of the United States to get this treatment.

The second item, here, from the Washington Times, is on some of the ways life has changed for George W. Bush.

The third item, here, is from The Associated Press, and it's a simple yet touching item on an open letter that Bush's adult daughters left for the Obama kids, Sasha (7) and Malia (10.) In summary, the advice is: enjoy the ride, see everything you can, and remember your dad is still your dad, not the guy people make fun of on TV.

Just for a moment, let's metaphorically pile all the hockey sticks in the corner behind the door.

Let's call off the attacks on the Sens, and the sarcasm around the Leafs (and this is tough for me.)

Let's step out of the rink into the bright sunshine of the day and look hopefully toward something new. Whether it will be new and better, or just new, remains to be seen.

If, on Sept 12, 2001, someone told you that the next president of the United States would be a black man named Barack Hussein Obama, you would have been laughed at.

And yet here we are, a new, black president facing the highest expectations of any new American administration in living memory, if not ever.

Obama is black, but that's really a personal detail in this story. He earned the job because he articulated a vision of change and of hope. It is, nonetheless, a remarkable thing. Within his lifetime, dogs were set upon black children in America for trying to enter white-only schools.

We cannot sit here today and know whether Obama will be the legendary agent of change people are expecting, or whether he will be a victim of circumstance or poor execution and be a weak president.

The bank and credit crisis. The unemployed. A deep recession. Two wars. Global warming. The wealthiest country on Earth that does not yet offer universal health care. The challenge of street gangs and crime in America's great cities. Poverty. Drugs. Terrorism. The Middle East and Gaza.

To say that Obama is inheriting a mess, and doing so at a terrible time in history, beggars the keyboard for an appropriate adjective.

The swearing in is at noon, and I'm guessing it would be too much to expect that our kids will get to see it in school. Some may, most won't.

But this time around the oft-repeated ritual of the peaceful transfer of power is more than just an American experience.

If your kids don't get to see it during the day, point them away from the PS3 and point them toward a channel on TV -- like PBS -- that will be all over this story. Today is an "I remember" day.

Give them the chance to explain to their kids 20 or 30 years from now that they stopped and watched, if only briefly.

Anyway, it's a big day in history. It's worth your time and theirs to take some of it in.

Now, let me square that circle back with the story of a black man from a mixed marriage; his dad from Africa, his mom from his country's heartland. The marriage failed, the boy was raised in a home where the grandparents played a big, big role. A scrapper and leader, a good athlete, he made it to the top. The colour of his skin is a detail; it doesn't shape or define him, but it's an important part of his experience.

You'll have to cope with what I admit is an unusually economical Monday posting. I have many things going on, so, forgive me.

We got home from Welland in early afternoon Sunday where upon I was immediately dispatched to get groceries and upon completion of that chore I sat in front of the TV watching football in a near-catatonic state.

Saturday night as the snow fell and some dads (and a mom or two) enjoyed a frosty sociable, the wise decision was made to stay put and make the Swiss Chalet guy drive in the snow. An order for nearly $300 of chicken was placed and if some dads had really had their wits about them they might have ordered in more beer, too.

Anyway, the evening took on the texture of every hockey road trip you were ever on, where the dads gathered and replayed every moment of greatness and folly.

Chris and I eventually took our chicken back to our room and sat and watched the hockey game on TV, and then he crashed and I was right behind him (others stayed up much, much later.) Chris is blessed with a great life skill -- knowing exactly when to pull the rip cord and call it a night.

The alarm went off way too early for our 6a quarter final and after a long day a weariness set in last night that feels like it's not going away soon.

I wasn't going to go to the minor midget AA game last night, but predictably I went anyway to see Pad and the Rangers roll over the much weaker St. Catherine's team, 13-0 in the first game of the OMHA qualifying round. The odd thing is, the St Kitt's goalie actually played pretty well. He stopped a lot of pucks but it became a shooting gallery.

Um, I want to say for the record that I don't have super powers and that whatever limited control I may possess from time to time over the space/time continuum, I generally try to use for good, not evil.

So, you can imagine that I was as surprised and horrified as you to discover that the day after I wrote about the anniversary of a plane crashing into a river in a major US metropolitan city, pretty much the exact same thing happened again, this time in New York.

I have been urged by some quarters to refrain from air crash commentary in the future and I think that's good advice.

Just as a side note, in the annals of journalism probably the single greatest example of a reporter writing something one day that turned out to be horribly inappropriate the next came from a National Post columnist in 1999.

Cam Cole -- one of the best sports writers in Canada -- offered a no-holds-barred commentary on some of the shortcomings of golfer Payne Stewart's personality. Suffice to say, the evaluation concluded Payne was a pain.

The next day -- the day the column was in the paper -- Stewart tragically died in a plane crash.

And yes, lots and lots of readers screamed about what a terrible person Cole was to write that way about the late great Payne Stewart, as if the ink on their newspapers had just been penned in the hours after the accident . . . It's a weird business.

But, I'm pledging off air disasters as of now. Laura could regale you with stories about big disasters (from crashes to earthquakes to fires and stock market crashes and more) coinciding with important moments in my life.

But that would just scare you and confirm your tendency to not want to stand near me in public places.

Congratulations to the atom red Oakville Eagles and the peewee Brampton Bombers, winners this weekend at the Frank Sabatino Memorial Tournament in Oakville.

The Eagles won over another Oakville squad, the Vikings, in their final, while Brampton prevailed over the red Oakville Vikings.

It's a great tournament and I'm sure the boys all had fun. Nice to see so many Oakville teams do well, too.

Paul Maurice returns to the ACC tonight with Carolina to play the Leafs. On TV at 7:30p.

The Gators lost 3-2 to North London in the semi finals in Welland, but they gave it a great shot.

The boys came out flat and found themselves down 2-0 after the first four minutes. To their great credit they never stopped working and carried much of the play over the rest of the game, but an appearance in the finals was to be just beyond their reach.

Nonetheless, those of us on the bench were happy for our guys who got to play five games in less than 48 hours and they only missed a sixth game by the slimmest of margins.

Jordan Borrell scored once and set up the other Oakville goal, and he would have been my pick for team MVP on the weekend. He really did it all.

There was a great moment with Jordan on the bench during the overtime shootout Saturday night with Tillsonberg and it was a reminder to all the adults on the bench why we do what we do and how much the games mean to the kids. But I'm going to keep the rest of that story to myself.

With 24 peewee teams from places like Ottawa, Sudbury, Welland, Oakville, London, Waterloo, St. Catherine's, Clarington, Tillsonberg, Lefroy and others, our group of Oakville white-level kids made it to the final four against some good teams from "unsorted" centres.

Billy Bellos -- who braved a 3:45a wake up call and trailed a conga-line of snow plows from Oakville to Welland -- scored what proved to be the winner as the peewee white Oakville Sunopta Gators beat Welland Pen Financial 3-1 to advance to the semifinals of the Ernie Clayton Memorial Peewee House League Hockey tournament in Welland.

Teams continue to fall to the Gators the way the snow keeps falling on Welland, but the boys show no sign of wilting in one of the largest peewee house league tournaments in Ontario.

Chris Arnold and Andrew Fayed scored the other Oakville goals and Cam Cook continued his solid play in the cage.

As expected, the games keep getting tougher as the Gators now face top seed North London in the semis later this morning. We'll be checking out of out hotel shortly so no telling when the next update will be.

The Oakville Sunopta Gators advanced to the quarter finals of the Ernie Clayton Memorial Peewee House League Hockey tournament in Welland on Saturday, earning a point for an overtime shootout loss to Tillsonberg.

Chris Arnold tied the game at 3-3 in the third period, and a five minute four-on-four OT settled nothing. Tillsonberg scored once in the shootout to take the victory in a close game.

Jordan Borrell -- who played a heroic defensive game on the forecheck, channelling the work ethic of Bob Gainey -- and Alex Home scored the other Oakville goals.

The Gators have no clue who they play next, except that it will be early! First quarter final goes at 6a, or it could be as late as 7:30a.

Most of the team checked back into a hotel as a winter storm moved in on Welland, looking to save a couple of hours sleep and avoid some messy driving.

All the kids played great Friday and Saturday and we're looking forward to more adventure tomorrow.

I'm getting a little weary of living out of my suitcase, but I don't get a vote!

I'm sitting in a bowling alley in Welland watching the boys and associated siblings bowl.

We just finished lunch at Boston Pizza, where I took some abuse for allegedly not being as dedicated to blogging house league tournaments as I am with rep hockey (the charge is bogus, but the dads have had access to too many beers to make defending my position a viable option.)

So anyway, the peewee white Oakville Sunopta Gators opened the Ernie Clayton Memorial Peewee House League Hockey tournament with a 4-2 win over a Welland team last night.

We followed up with a 5-2 win this morning over Clarington. The game was 1-1 well into the third before our guys scored three times to pull away.

We have a game later today with a team from Tillsonberg, and a win will send us to the quarter finals tomorrow at either 6a or 7a (don't ask me if I really want to be behind a bench in Welland on Sunday morning at 6a . . . Kidding!! Of course I do!).

Anyway, this update is really intended for my dad so he'll know I got out of Winnipeg and made it to Welland and well, so far, so good. (Chris has three assists in two games, dad. He's playing well, but honestly every kid on the team is coming ready to play. It's fun. January in Welland? -20c? Windy? What could be more fun?)

Pad and the AA minor midget Rangers closed out the regular season at home last night with an 8-2 win over Milton.

Practice tomorrow night, then they open the playdown round-robin Sunday night at home vs. St. Catherines.

Welland hockey tournament for me and Chris starting this evening, assuming I get out of the Winnipeg ice box as scheduled!

I don't have much to offer this morning. I'm tired and rushing and anxiously awaiting the adventure that apparently is A Ride In A Winnipeg Cab.

Thursday morning a colleague and I jumped in a taxi for a destination out near the airport for a business meeting -- only about 15 or 20 minutes away. The taxi seemed to make an inordinate number of a right turns and then pulled up in front of an old, apparently under-occupied office building and declared that we were there.

Having been to our destination many times, I knew this wasn't it, but the driver insisted it was.

A frantic conversation between him and his dispatcher took place in a language I didn't recognize. The only word I made out was "downtown."

We stayed at the lovely old Fort Garry Hotel, which is one of those old joints generally referred to in Canadian tourism lore as "grand old railway hotels."

And make no mistake, it is. The Fort Garry has one of the great all-in room deals because it includes breakfast, which at the Fort Garry means a custom-made omelet or eggs made to order. The staff is friendly, the hotel warm and welcoming with lots of character.

Room 202 is considered sacred territory in the building -- it is allegedly the room where one is most likely to see a specter drifting around your room.

Wednesday night passed without incident -- I've stayed here many times and while I've seen some scary things in Winnipeg I've never seen a ghost.

And given that my colleague was right across the hall from room 202 (he was in 205) we were hoping maybe something interesting would happen. I was on the 4th floor, and all was calm. We never gave it another thought.

The closet in my room has a light that comes on when you open the door. If the door is left open, the light stays on for a couple of minutes then turns off. A motion detector in the closet would turn the light on again if you reached into the closet.

So, last night I mostly packed up for the early morning departure, but I left my shirt, a pair of jeans and a blazer hanging up to wear this morning. I left the closet door open -- more by accident than anything else. I don't NEED a night light but often in hotels I'll leave a bathroom light on with the door ajar -- just enough light so I can navigate a strange room in the dark (a lesson learned the hard way on assignment in China, leaping from bed to the sound of a phone that I thought was an alarm and promptly walking directly into a wall .)

I left the closet door open. The light went out. It was dark. I turned the TV off and went to sleep.

About 3:30a I was awakened by the closet light coming on. Since the door was open already, the only logical explanation is that something set off the motion detector, making the light come on.

I'm sure there's a logical explanation. But the light came on. I got up and closed the closet door.

The St.Hilda’s Oakville Peewee Red Eagles are taking part in the St.Michaels Majors’ annual Paint the Rink Pink Night, on February 13^th, in support of breast cancer research. The team will have the privilege of skating on the same ice earlier that day in a league game against another Oakville team in our division. Everything during this event will be painted pink - ice, player and referee uniforms for the Oakville regular season Peewee Red game before the Majors’ game and the Majors will wear pink uniforms as well. The entire night is geared towards raising money for breast cancer research.

The MOHA supports other events of this type that promote cancer awareness and fundraising such as wearing pink laces campaign coordinated by Oakville Ranger player Kyle Kokolailo and the Oakville Trafalgar Hospital Palliative Services for cancer patients and their families during the house league tournament in January.

The Eagles’ commitment is to sell 100 tickets to the event at the Hershey Center; our goal is to sell 500 tickets. With the help of our community and friends of our great game everywhere, we believe this is going to be a great success. Our team is committed to raising as much money as possible but more importantly as much awareness as we can for the cause.

Help us Paint the Rink Pink at the Hershey Center on February 13^th 2009, by purchasing tickets to this event. Tickets are $12. Two dollars of each ticket will be donated to this cause. It would be great to see as many Oakville families and MOHA hockey teams there as possible. Eagles and Wolfpack play at 4:30pm. The Majors play the Barrie Colts at 7:30pm. We would like nothing more than to see the building sold out that night. We would like to have all ticket orders in by Feb 4^th 2009.

If you want more information on Paint the Rink Pink, email Nelson here. He loves email, so don't be shy.

Greetings. I'm running out the door to a meeting shortly, but I thought it would warm your hearts to know that the temperature here in Winnipeg is a balmy -32 with a wild chill of -43.

I was leaving the house yesterday to catch my flight into the ice box just as the phone rang and Pad got a call to play up with the AAA team last night in Welland. Naturally I missed the game, and the two-hour-plus drive to Welland in crawling, creeping traffic along the QEW through snow storms and slush.

The game ended in a 3-3 tie and the drive home wasn't nearly so arduous as the drive there. But I'm still sorry I missed it.

It was 27 years ago this week that Air Florida flight 90 crashed in Washington DC, which I remember clearly because I was in Barbados behaving badly at the time the grim news broke.

A buddy and I picked a very good week to be out of Nova Scotia as the snow fell, storms raged and cold gripped the east. I was living in Yarmouth in those days (in a flat above a former funeral home) and I also remember returning home after the trip to find that no one shoveled my driveway for me.

But travelling that week with the terrible accident in Washington has always stayed with me for some reason.

Which is why yesterday I started to email Laura from my plane. I had a seat overlooking the wing as we sat at the gate and the wing was covered with snow and having covered a crash inquiry or two in my day, I wondered when they might actually de-ice the plane before we took off.

In the event that they didn't de-ice, I wanted Laura to have some documentation for the inevitable lawsuit.

But, they did de-ice, so I didn't have to send the email and Laura didn't have to sue anyone. Not yet anyway.

We took off an hour late and I spent the next couple of hours watching reruns of Entourage on the plane's entertainment system.

All of which is to say nothing interesting happened to me yesterday. I had a business dinner last night in a small, nice Italian place that looked like the set of the final scene of The Sopranos and we tried to spend as little time outside as possible.

I know it's cold back in Toronto too, and Toronto copes poorly with cold. Or heat. Or rain. Or . . . Toronto doesn't cope well with much, which is why it's good to get out to places like Winnipeg.

I'm working from home for a few hours this morning before hopping a plane to Winnipeg, because honestly, it's just not cold enough here for me.

From what I gather from all those email updates the good folks at GO Transit send along, it seems it would be easier to walk to Winnipeg today that catch a train to Toronto because the southern Ontario cold snap has frozen things to the point where numerous trains have been cancelled or delayed.

So, praise be to me, I stayed here and drove the boys to school and tidied up some things before my trip.

I know that Mother Nature is powerful and all. But this is Canada and well, you can pretty much set your watch by cold weather coming in January. And after about 200 years of train service, you'd think we'd have figured it out by now.

Anyway, Winnipeg is nice this time of year. The cold keeps the mosquitoes down to a manageable level and people stay inside and eat well. So, I'm looking forward to that part.

The outside workers' strike in Welland is over so -- assuming I get home Friday afternoon as scheduled -- me and Chris will be off to the Ernie Clayton Memorial Peewee House League Tournament, world famous for being among the peewee tournaments with the longest names.

Even though it's relatively close by, this will be an over nighter for the boys, which means . . . well, you've all done this so you know what it means. It probably means I'll need to sleep at my desk on Monday.

Back here in Oakville, one of the area's top house league tournaments -- the Frank Sabatino Memorial Tournament -- will be held this weekend with atom and peewee red divisions.

The tournament is a very good one and has earned its reputation for fun and good competition. I've volunteered at it in the past and I know from first hand experience how much fun everyone makes this weekend for the kids.

These things require a ton of volunteer work to run, so good luck and best wishes to the army of folks behind the scenes.

Something I'd like to see our association consider is a house league tournament aimed at white and blue level teams.

The fact is many MOHA red teams are of a calibre of select-level hockey in most centres, so those teams have a lot of choices when it comes to hunting tournaments.

Even many of our white-level teams can compete with smaller centres' house league teams -- regardless of whether they are sorted red, white, etc.

But for the blue-level teams, finding a tournament that is a good fit can be a struggle. I salute the coaches who take their blue teams into tournaments -- as I've often said, the things that happen in the hallways and pizza parlours and swimming pools are the things the kids remember most -- but in my experience, they often struggle to be competitive.

Anyway, MOHA has a top-notch rep tournament and a high-end house league tournament. Maybe there could be room for something for the white and blue house league teams, too.

The Leafs lost to Nashville last night, sinking like a stone ever closer to the bottom of the conference. With eight losses in 10 games, the Leafs are proving how weak they are. The guns have gone cold, the defence and goaltending have been inconsistent. Read more here.

Meanwhile, it was bound to happen sooner or later but the Senators won a game last night, dumping Carolina 5-1. Oh well.

If it's mid-January then it must be OMHA playdown time. It seems early, but the final games of the Tri County regular season will be played by Thursday night and then the teams start the long road to either advancing to an OMHA quarter final next month, or, returning to the Tri County playoffs, politely known by the coaches and parents as "the loser bowl."

Pad and the minor midget AA Rangers finish the regular season tomorrow night at home vs. Milton.

I offered you so much high-quality blogging on Sunday, I didn't bother with Monday. Yeah. That's the ticket.

I'm not sure whether this photo is the Wings With Harper, or Harper with Wings (which sounds cooler.) Anyway, it's the better version I promised of the peewee red Wings last month in Ottawa, where they lost in the tournament final 2-1, and a kid named Ben Harper scored the winning goal. I wonder if he's a right winger?

Say what you will about politics, but this is a cool picture and a special memory for the boys.

BTW -- is it just me, or the prime minister trying to recruit Brendan Dickie? And does Coach Brent look like he's taking this opportunity to grab 40 winks? Legend is that Brent's been photographed with every prime minister since Pearson, so this was old hat . . .

Further to AC-DC the other night, another Oakville hockey dad passes on his family's experience.

The two boys enjoyed it, but the experience was a bit intense for the younger one -- I'm guessing he's about 10. Everyone was annoyed by the amount of smoke in the non-smoking facility.

And, the dad reports, they also had to endure the spectacle of a pair of 50-something guys playing air guitar in front of them and hitting the smokes pretty hard and regularly.

At one point in the concert, however, the older brother -- a peewee -- reasoned that the men were running out of smokes, because they seemed to be reduced to sharing a single butt, passing it back and forth . . .

Oh well. Trust me guys. Your instincts are right, and someday last Friday night will make sense.

A good Sunday morning from Joshua Creek -- the novice blue Pirates and Hound Dogs are facing off and in a new twist, the parents and grandparents are armed with noisemakers.

The Sunopta Gators scored twice mid-way through the third period Saturday morning to break open a 1-1 game and dump the first-place Lumberjacks 3-1 in peewee white action. Our guys played a very complete game and Jordan finally got the monkey off his back with a pair of goals. The Lumberjacks are a good team, and much bigger than our guys. We expect they'll regroup quickly.

In the meantime, the Gators are back on top in the loop, heading into action next week at a tournament in Welland.

That is -- we HOPE to be in a tournament in Welland. City workers in the canal city have gone on strike and all the rinks are closed, putting the weekend of hockey in jeopardy.

Four of the Gators had a late night Friday and the bench staff was a little concerned that the 9a start time Saturday would work against us.

The boys had a good excuse -- they were at the AC-DC concert, which was the toughest ticket to score in 2009 so far.

The boys assured me that the Aussie rockers opened with a medley of show tunes, including favorites from The Sound of Music, so everyone was not too excited and still relatively well rested for the game.

Chris has a 6p practice tonight at Kinoak. Um, the Steelers and Chargers? 4:45p start? Hellllllooooo?

On Friday night, the minor midget Rangers beat Brampton at home, 4-2. The game was generally unremarkable except for the truly offensive behaviour of one of the Brampton "adults" screaming profanities at the game officials after the game, which is bad enough. To do it in the presence of women and children (and I don't mean the players) is not acceptable. In a word: pig.

We stayed home last night. There were other choices, but Laura wanted to veg out. It was the first Saturday night in some time where we didn't have to be somewhere, or we didn't have a European delegation with us, or whatever. So, she cooked a lovely meal (home-made leek and stilton soup!) and we rented (insert long, loud, audible sigh) Mama Mia!

I'll be gentle and try to avoid hyperbole: it may be the worst movie ever made and I'd rather have someone staple pictures of Daniel Alfredsson to my forehead than go through another screening like that.

But even Laura -- who on her mother's recommendation really wanted to watch it -- thought it was awful.

Pierce Brosnan singing anywhere but the shower should immediately be considered cause for the World Court to convene and bring forward charges of crimes against humanity.

Mercifully, the movie itself ran only a little more than 90 minutes, about a third of which I was able to dodge on the pretext of cleaning up the kitchen. Three times.

We saw the stage show -- which was light, airy and fun, once you get your head around the fact that you're going to be subjected to ABBA songs for two hours -- and there was no comparison.

Pad came in from hockey practice as the movie was wrapping up and I was getting ready to clean up the kitchen for a fourth time.

His view was that as good as his grandmother's chocolate chip cookies are, relying on her for film recommendations was a proposition fraught with risk, and he didn't recommend it in future.

Chris -- as he routinely does on weekends -- asked if he could have a milk shake for dessert last night.

He dug out the ice cream, the milk, the chocolate sauce, the milk shake blender.

As I put the drink together, I said to Laura, "I've been making milk shakes since Pad used to drink them out of the Percules cup."

She laughed so hard Wolf Blass (the wine, not the person) almost came out her nose.

Percules is how Pad used to pronounce Hercules. When the animated movie came out, I think Pad was four, Chris was one and we had gotten a Hercules mug at McDonalds or something. It had a snap-on lid and a hole for a straw, so it was perfect for a small milk shake.

We were living in Ottawa at the time and one Sunday, Laura was working (she was an editor on a news desk) and I was home with the boys. As the Ottawa bureau chief for our operation at the time, it wasn't uncommon for me to get lots of calls at home, and this particular day the phone rang and it was the Prime Minister's Office calling to say the government had reached a decision to send fighter jets or troops (I forget exactly) to Bosnia in support of NATO actions there at the time -- it was a very ugly mess in the Balkans at the time.

So, with Chris on my hip and Pad in front of a movie, I ran to the home office and fired out a bulletin on the wire, and then made a bunch of other calls to line up more coverage, etc.

In the process of all that, the audio desk in Toronto called and says we need to do a quick Q-and-A with you for the radio clients. Chris was wailing in the background.

I ran to the family room and told Pad, "if you can entertain your brother for five minutes and keep him quiet -- I'll make milkshakes!"

Pad never said no to food in his life so we had a deal and he came through in flying colours.

Canadians got to learn about the country's new mission to Bosnia, I had relative quiet to do the audio with Toronto, and Pad got his milk shake.

Leafs lose again, 4-1 to Philly. Again I didn't watch this one wall to wall. From what I saw of the game on the TV in the kitchen while I cleaned up three times, the Leafs played OK but ran smack into a hot goalie. Bummer.

But the Flyers are a good team. Carter and Richards? I wish. Read more on the hapless home team here.

But the good news is that lately, whenever the hockey gods have slammed a door in the faces of the Leafs, they've been very good about closing a window on the fingers of the Senators at the same time, and last night was no exception.

The Rangers shut out my favourite whipping boys 2-0. The Sens have lost five in a row, eight of their last night, and are a woeful 3-11-2 in the last month.

I think the team that went to the Cup finals two years ago has finally convinced itself that yes, we really are that bad.

Zdeno Chara continues to prosper in Boston with the top team in the conference.,

I barely got home in time last night to turn on the Leaf game, where upon our heroes immediately took a penalty -- in the first minutes -- and then surrendered a power play goal and after that, it was on, as the kids say today.

The Leafs looked totally out of place on the ice with Montreal so I had to make a decision.

Do I stay with the classic Montreal-Toronto matchup until such time as I would be forced to wander back out into the night to take Pad to a 10p practice?

So, we put on the final disc of the first season of Mad Men and watched something considerably more entertaining than the Leafs can hope to be for the foreseeable future.

When time came to leave for Joshua Creek Arenas, I was blissfully unaware of the fights and mayhem in Montreal, or, more importantly, the score.

Anyone who's ever laced on skates or been in charge of those who do knows all about The Room.

In basketball and football, they call it the locker room. In hockey, at least on this side of the border, it's the dressing room. But as you get older it becomes simply The Room.

Great friendships and life-long bonds are formed in The Room. Life lessons are learned, like, what can be done with a Bic lighter and flatulence.

Raw nerves are exposed. Leaders emerge. Support is rendered. Band of Brothers is not overstating it.

Chris, a house league peewee, has reached an age where The Room has become a secret society for men only. No moms, no siblings. But especially, to use the all-inclusive vernacular of the age group, no girls.

It has been, in some instances, a surprisingly tough rule to implement. Some moms, invoking the "there's nothing in there I haven't seen before" guideline, still occasionally attempt a venture into The Room (only to be turned away.)

The popular rationale for our rule is blindingly simply -- if 12 and 13 year old girls were in a room changing, dads and brothers who entered might possibly face criminal prosecution. The lads deserve the same personal sanctity.

Things are said and done in The Room that might shock some people who think they have seen or heard it all.

While the peewees are a bit young, they are learning fast. By the time they reach minor bantam and beyond, their ability to string together colourful adjectives in front of interesting nouns will peel paint off walls. No topic is off limits. Girls play an increasingly large part in the conversations. Use your imagination.

The discussions, regardless of the colour of the language, are not for the faint of heart.

In The Room, the kids get to relax a bit, connect with their teammates, and do it all in an atmosphere that allows the freedom to create memories that will last forever. As coaches, we try to bring some modicum of direction and what passes for dignity to the room, but often it's a losing battle.

Last summer I had to go into Pad's midget lacrosse dressing room after a game to deliver ice to an injured player. The boys -- mostly 15 -- were walking around in various states of undress. One of the boys -- a louder, more confident type than is typical of the age group -- had just emerged from the shower.

In language much more colourful, he suggested that when I left The Room, I report fully and completely to the outside world on the wonder of his grandness to which I just borne witness. All eyes in The Room turned to me for the rebuttal.

The Code of The Room allows for a rebuttal, but it had better be good or you will be buried under insult and no one will come to your aid.

"Mike, buddy," I replied. "I'm happy to do that for you. But it will be a very short story."

Anyway, every person who has been in The Room has stories from The Room. The best speeches, the worst speeches, the greatest laughs, the deepest sobs, the most profound life moments can happen when you least expect them in The Room.

And a huge part of what makes them so important is that they often happen with people who are not your family. For many of us, the first real bond we make with people outside our family are the relationships forged in sport, in fire, in The Room.

If you asked Laura, she would tell you that more than once in the XX years we've been together, I've lamented the absence of a locker room in my life.

A place where you sit exhausted, sweat dripping off your chin, sometimes mixed with blood from a cut over your eye. And the guy next to you wraps a rust-stained skate towel around a mound of ice fashioned from snow off skate blades, and he hands it to you. And you take it gratefully, as if it were offered by the surgeon general himself. Staph infection, be damned.

I got to thinking about all of this after reading a column in today's Globe and Mail on the topic, which you can find here.

It's the weekend shortly. The Rangers host Brampton tonight at River Oaks B, 8:30p.

Chris plays tomorrow and practices Sunday, Pad has a practice on Saturday night. Chris has timekeeping on Sunday, and there will be lots of homework.

I may be wrong, but I don't think we have to actually travel anywhere this weekend. After the first full week back after New Year's, we can all use a bit of a breather.

If you do, and if you are subjected to the travails of commuting where great gobs of time are eaten up by waiting for things to happen, you may have ventured into a game called Brick Breaker.

It's a silly little video game on the BB where the object is to move a paddle back and forth, keeping a little ball moving upwards at different configurations of bricks.

At the end of the day, when the newspaper has been consumed, when you're mind is vacant and not worthy of writing a meaningful email, when GO Transit is apologizing for the inconvenience, that's when people turn to Brick Breaker.

I know it's not just me. I see lots and lots of people -- men and women, but mostly men -- smashing little bricks on the train home.

I recently ascended to heights ne'er to fore contemplated, by me, on this game -- much to the fascination of Chris and me and . . . well, no one else that I am aware of.

On Dec 23 on the ride home, I started a new game. It continued periodically over the holidays. 10 minutes in a rink here, 10 minutes there.

Before I knew it, I had reached a point total of 190,000 -- my previous best was about 32,000. More significantly, I had accumulated 94 "lives" -- meaning I could miss the little ball completely 94 times before the game would be over. I had crossed over from casual player to semi-pro. With time, the sky was the limit . . . I was looking for sponsors. Perhaps a spot on Jon Stewart.

Now, if you don't have a BlackBerry, this information will be completely boring to you.

But if you do, and if you have tried Brick Breaker, there's a good chance you're saying, "Damn. That deaf, dumb, blind kid sure plays a mean pinball!"

A user can exit a Brick Breaker game any time, and pick it up again at the same point. The data will all be there, even when you power off.

Unless you have to reboot your BB for some reason. Or unless, like me yesterday, you drop the sucker causing the back to pop off and the battery to jump out.

So, my run toward BlackBerry immortality is over. I can tell the Brick Breaker dreamers out there that the success to a long run is to run through all 32 levels -- twice. The second run is faster and far harder. But after that, how high your score goes appears to be a question of your patience to keep the game going, and eye-hand coordination to keep you from dropping the stupid thing.

In the meantime my wife will be looking for ways for me to monetize yet another useless pastime. (It will be added to um, blogging, and 1970s music challenges of "Name that Tune." Minne Riperton -- anyone? Anyone?)

Perhaps I can play Brick Breaker at birthday parties or corporate retreats? Maybe tutor thick-thumbed commuters?

Mats Sundin debuted finally with the Canucks last night. The big guy acknowledged he has far to go before he will be in the same condition as his teammates, but Vancouver did win over the Oilers in his debut. Everyone agreed he was right. Read more here.

Obtaining May, who is 37, is apparently a move to add a little sandpaper to the Leaf roster. Enforcers are naturally a part of the NHL ecosystem, present to protect the team's stars from the gritty pests in the opposition ranks.

As soon as the Leafs get a couple of stars, May will be a welcome addition, I have no doubt. Until then, he can regale the locker room with stories about what it's like to actually win a Stanley Cup.

Ottawa Senators jerk-in-residence Jarrko Ruutu (with apologies to my Finnish readership) will be some US$37,0000 lighter in the wallet and have a few days to play Brick Breaker after the NHL suspended him for two games for biting Sabres forward Andrew Peters in a game Tuesday night.

First, let me say that I have now have many Finnish friends and -- so far -- I have been bitten by them relatively few times.

Second, the Finnish are straight forward, honest and courageous -- I saw examples of all those traits -- which makes me think that maybe Ruutu drifted across on an ice floe from another land and was politely adopted by the Finns, which is what they would do.

Because to stand in front of the assembled media -- all armed with video footage of Ruutu clamping his jaw around Peters' digit -- and then lie outright about it, well, it says about as much as I need to know about Ruutu's character. Even Mike Tyson admitted it when he did the big bite.

Perhaps he and Sean Avery could get together and start a team? That would be a team with some bite!

An email arrived from Forssa yesterday saying our friends had a great time in New York City, but their plane to Frankfurt was an hour late leaving the Big Apple on Tuesday. So . . . the boys missed their connecting flight to Helsinki.

The good news was that somehow they managed to get the entire team on the next flight five hours later. And that was considerably better than the Finnish U-17 team managed. They had been in transit 48 hours and only three of them were back in Finland.

The mom said her son asked for only two things to be ready when he got home -- the sauna (Finns are very big on saunas; we considered holding a wet branch up to a hair dryer while they were here, but I think the overall effect would have been lost) and, not surprisingly, home cooking.

I'm sure between the illness, vomit, lost games, and missed flight there will be some debate over whether this trip was worth it.

I can assure them that from this side of the ocean, the answer is a resounding YES.

Bryan McCabe returned to the ACC last night with the Florida Panthers and while I was never the biggest fan of the guy I have to say I found it somewhat churlish that he was booed every time he touched the puck (which, BTW, was a lot, as the Panthers dumped the Leafs 4-2 in a score that flattered the home team.)

McCabe's biggest sin was that he wouldn't waive his no-trade clause before the trade deadline last spring, opting instead to wait until a significant bonus he was due would mature and be paid out. Can you blame the guy?

No-trade contracts are part of the negotiation and if the Leafs didn't want him to have one, they shouldn't have given him one.

As for the fans who boo him? Fine, you (or more likely some corporation) paid mightily for the right to sit and watch a mediocre hockey team beat a bad hockey team. So, you know, knock yourself out.

The good news is that Ottawa lost. Buffalo very nearly blew a three goal lead but didn't, hanging on for 4-2 win.

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned it, but I don't really care for the Senators.

I've covered more politics in my life than I care to review here, and I can say that without question the meanest, nastiest, most petty, most self-interested, most divisive, bare-knuckles, self-congratulatory form of politics is local school board politics.

Since most of my time was spent on mundane and gentile things like elections and budgets, the Meech Lake Accord, the Charlottetown referendum and the 1995 Quebec referendum, my experience with writing about school politics was limited to the early days of my career covering municipal politics.

But just watching some of the stuff that goes on in our neighbourhood around one of my kids' schools is to leave you shaking your head (like people who drive their kids three blocks to school in an SUV arguing to preserve the sanctity of the neighbourhood "walk-to" school. I'm all for walk-to schools. I think they're great. I'm against hypocrites in SUVs.)

And school politics in Glen Abbey is really amateur lightweight stuff compared to some other parts of town. The folks in southeast Oakville and Clearview? They know how to rumble.

Anyway, I digress. There's lots of good, concerned people involved in school politics. There's a lot more of them on the outside avoiding it because of the other type of people.

My point is simply that school politics is messy business. And that's because the things that people hold most dear, ~~their SUVs~~ their children, are at those schools. Politics plus children = tension/fighting/promotion of self interest.

And schools become a caldron for all sorts of people, some of whom I will generically classify as people "who know what's good for you."

And with that last thought in mind, I offer a link to an item about a mom who ran afoul of the food police at her child's school when it was discovered her kid had a bag of Doritos and non-organic lunch materials.

Do you suppose that at some yet-to-be confirmed point in my existence, The Creator will look at the tally sheet of rights and wrongs I've committed in my life and tack on a couple more days in consideration of all the time I've lost dealing with Bell Canada?

I'd rather any of those things than spend ONE. MORE. MINUTE of my life talking to Bell Canada and their Customer Annoyance Team.

I want to see Emily the Automated Assistant dipped in boiling oil, her digital existence snuffed out and replaced by an actual human being.

Because Emily the Automated Assistant ALWAYS asks for your 10-digit phone number so she can better assist me. And then, hours later, when you actually speak with a human, what's the first thing they ask for?

Anyway, our latest foray with Bell was them overcharging us $452 because of a change in accounts on our end, which we discussed with them three times before it happened to avoid it happening, but it happened anyway.

At every step, Bell assured me it would not happen (it did) was their fault (again, and again, and again), there was an error here, an error there. "Not to worry. We'll get to the bottom of it."

There were at least three subsequent communications to arrange getting our money back, all of which we were assured would be no problem. It will take 12 to 15 business days. That was Oct. 20.

Given that it's been more than 15 years since a Canadian team has lifted the Stanley Cup, it may well be that for kids of a certain age the prevailing dream when the lights go out and they drift toward slumber staring at the posters on their walls is simply this. To spend Christmas in a hotel room, to wake on Boxing Day and pull on a Team Canada jersey, and 10 or 12 days later to play in a gold medal game for the world junior hockey championship.

Such is the stature of this tournament in Canada now, such is the infectious reality of watching young men -- kids, really -- chase a dream the way only kids can.

Last night's finale to this tournament was never in doubt, not for a single second. World junior champions for a fifth time.

As soon as Swedish goalie Jacob Markstrom started his diving routine in the first minute I knew that Sweden was not mentally prepared for 60 minutes of hockey with Canada in front of a partisan crowd. It was embarrassing to witness, not at all a measure of the skill that won them a spot in the game, and I thought probably distracting to the teammates who came to play hard.

The Canadians came to play harder, and it showed. They played with poise and discipline and they suffocated the Swedish powerplay nine times.

Names like Cody Hodgson, John Tavares, PK Subban and Dustin Tokarski led the way, but every kid with the maple leaf on the front of their shirt played big last night.

We watched every minute, with the foibles of Cogeco cable alerting some corners of the house to the results before others. It seems the direct cable feed -- no HD or digital box -- is a stunning eight seconds ahead of the the HD Cogeco feed. So as Chris sat in our bed watching the dying minutes of the game there, he cheered the empty net goals late in the third while we were downstairs still watching Canada move the puck out of their own end.

And you can read here about the magic of Pat Quinn, soon to be 66, in dealing with all these very young men.

As for Markstrom, he embellished some incidental contact more than once as if he was an Italian soccer player waiting for a trainer with the magic sponge.

No matter. Markstrom's 10-metre performance did nothing to fool the refs or more importantly, the Canadians, who cruised to a fifth straight world title, leaving no doubt that they were the best team in this tournament.

More holiday tournament action from Ottawa, or, put another way, Harper sticks it to Oakville!

The MOHA house league red Wings were in Ottawa for the Bell Capital Cup over the holidays and they showed very well. There were 47 teams in the Peewee House 'A' division and coach Brent Scarrow reports his squad made it to the finals on New Years day. They went 3-0 in round robin play and received a bye into the quarterfinals (a lot of the teams had to play elimination games directly after the tournament skills competition.) GOalkeeper Thomas Hammond strung together three shutouts in a row to get his team to the finals against the St. Laurent Senators (led by a player named Ben Harper who lives at 24 Sussex Drive). The Wings ended up losing 2-1 in the finals with young Ben Harper scoring the winner in front of his dad and an entourage of about 15 very large men who speak into their sleeves. My scouts report the Wings saw some players raise their game in this tournament, including Carter Sanders, Perry Griffin, Brendan Dickie, Thomas Hammond and Jackson Scarrow.

Well done Wings. Photos of the Wings (larger photos, I'm sure!) with the prime minister will follow shortly.

Everyone is back to work, it seems. And it also seems that they all wanted to sit in my car on the train, they all wanted to walk slowly in an irregular serpentine manner in front of me, and they all looked like they'd rather be somewhere else.

I'm told that's not unlike how the minor midget AA Rangers looked yesterday in Caledon, playing a good first half of the game and then . . . well, I wasn't there so not sure how to describe it.

The big task around our house this weekend was the de-decorating of the house. It's a painful, hateful chore and I usually try to book an ice dancing lesson or get my nails done when the time comes to take it on. But this year Laura had some returns to do downtown and she made the tactical error generally known as "leaving me to my own good judgment."

Good judgment would have been to lie on the couch and watch the NFL wild card games on Saturday, which is what I always see myself doing in my mind's eye, but it's also something that never actually happens. Ever.

So instead, I packed up the Christmas Village thingy that seasonally adorns the landing above the stairs. It has about 6,472 pieces. I did it alone.

Next, I had the boys remove the decorations from the "little tree" that adorns the Village that adorns the landing.

The three of us tackled the big tree with gusto,. enthusiasm and . . . no real sense of where any of the decorations were supposed to go once removed from the tree.

I told the boys that regardless of anything else that happened, that tree would be on the sidewalk by the time their mother got home, so let's get on with it.

We put away what we could, and we carefully piled the rest of the ornaments onto a chair for . . . well, for Laura to deal with. We figured she's be happy that the tree was gone.

Eventually we got the lights off and the tree was bare and then Pad and I wrestled it out the door, by which time I think it had something like six needles left on it.

Then I vacuumed. The living room. The hall. The foyer. The stairs. The porch. The sidewalk. The neighbour's dog.

Then we humped the furniture back into the usual configuration (being careful not to upset the carefully arranged and piled ornaments with no home.)

When Laura did come home she was grateful the tree was gone, glad we had the good sense to not pack away things we knew nothing about, and she muttered an expletive when I posted the casualty list from the afternoon's work -- a single cherished ornament was lost in action. Sorry. It happens.

She put away most of the rest of the stuff yesterday. By the end of the day today, the bins will all be safely returned to their places in the basement until next Christmas.

Do you have Pampered Chef stuff in your house? ~~Would you like to buy some of ours?~~

One of the gadgets we have is . . .an ice cream scoop. But not just any scoop -- no, apparently this metal scoop is filled with a liquid that keeps it warm and allows the scoop to glide through the ice cream in case you're not capable of pushing a scoop through ice cream unassisted.

Chris is very skeptical of this claim (I've trained you well, young Jedi) to the point of outright sarcasm.

Last night he asked his mother if he could get some ice cream and could he use the scoop "with the magical fairy liquid."

It was a great line. His mother cleverly responded with something like: "Shut up."

Not sure where he got such a cynical world view. Pretty sure it's his mother's side of the family.

Canada vs. Sweden tonight for the world junior hockey championship. Don't call, we won't be answering the phone.

Back to the routine, of sorts. Greetings from Joshua Creek Arenas where Chris is keeping the time for the novice blue Hound Dogs and Wranglers. Much news since last we spoke.

The minor midget AA Rangers went ahead (with permission) with their plan to honour the Forssa FoPS Junior 93 Finnish squad by wearing their jerseys in a league game.

The green Rangers -- who thoroughly confused the Ancaster parents -- scored in the third period to secure a 1-1 tie with the feisty Avalanche, who played a fast, snappy, clean game.

Before the game, the Rangers took a moment to assemble for a team photo in the Finnish colours.

I have to confess I'm not crazy about the red pants with the green jerseys, but the overall effect was at least very festive. And the boys were quite excited to wear the Forssa shirts, as you can imagine.

After posing for this shot, the boys all turned to show their temporary names for the game, most of which defy the ability of Ranger parents to pronounce.

Yes Miska, that's Patrick wearing your jersey. We weren't sure it was going to fit but it seems to have worked out fine.

If you are interested in seeing more of the Green Rangers in action on Friday night, click here.

Like millions of other Canadian last night, we huddled around the TV to watch Canada play Russia in the semi finals of the World Junior Hockey Championships in Ottawa.

First, let me say it was nice to be able to see fans in Ottawa cheer for winning hockey team for a change (I'm not sure I've ever mentioned it, but I don't really care for the Senators.)

That's how much time stood between this hockey team and three months or more of collective national navel gazing and angst. Praise be to Jordan Eberle.

Somehow the Canadian found a way to tie it and they prevailed in the eventual shootout.

It was another butt-ugly hockey game in terms of turnovers and missed assignments, but it was also entertaining as hell to watch and let's face it, Canada won.

So, on to the gold medal match with Sweden. I hope Canada has some practice ice today because they have a few things to work on.

The atom AA Oakville Hornets beat the Kanata Rangers 1-0 in double overtime to win the 10th anniversary edition of the Bell Capital Cup, an Ottawa hockey classic.

The girls were undefeated in the tournament en route to capturing their first title of the year.

Way to go ladies! (Is it just me, or is the trophy bigger than most of the players??)

In novice action here, the 'Dogs have yanked their keeper to try and tie the game. Blogging will be suspended for 45 seconds.

Big save by the Wrangler goalie. Wranglers win 2-1. Novice hockey rocks. Knights and Pirates up next.

The peewee Sunopta Gators returned to league action yesterday, getting badly outshot but prevailing 4-1 over the run-and-gun offence of the Hound Dogs.

The Gators are still giddy over the quality of the hockey they played in London last week and we managed to avoid the big letdown that sometimes follows such things.

The Gators are now tied for second in a very tight loop, with only four points separating first place from fifth.

Still with Ottawa, the Senators lost 3-1 to the Leafs last night. These guys couldn't beat the peewee white Sunopta Gators! Sorry -- I don't care for the Sens. Not sure if I've mentioned it before.

Anyway, this team is in total and utter disarray and the problems started about 30 seconds after they let Zdeno Chara sign with Boston. The defence has never been the same, they have no transition game to get the puck up the ice and when they do, they have only one true NHL calibre line left and they are setting new standards for under-performing.

Toronto is not a very good hockey team. But apparently, they are significantly better than Ottawa, which is cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Another NHL team with a bag full of ugly right now is the Pittsburgh Penguins, losers of four in a row, and seven of their last 10, including a 6-1 pasting last night at the hands of the Florida Panthers, the NHL poster child for mediocrity. Sidney Crosby got in a fight, and the Pens now sport a losing record at home.

Bold prediction: Pens coach Michel Therrien is going to be canned, as in any second.

My guess is he came close to being shown the door early last season when the Pens took some time to find their footing, and there was much talk that the club wanted to match a coach better suited to the considerable raw, young talent on the Pens roster.

In a small piece of better news, Crosby led all vote-getters for the starting line ups of this year's all-star game. I hope he likes playing with Montreal players, because he's going to be surrounded. More here.

Pad and his mom are heading off into the freezing rain and ice pellets for a game in Caledon this afternoon, and Chris and I have a practice.

And here at JC Arenas, the Knights and Pirates are scoreless deep in the second period.

I'm not sure if any novice parents ever read this stuff, but the Knights' goalie has put on a display that is truly astounding thus far.

Late update: The Finnish boys beat a Danish midget team 6-2 yesterday in an exhibition game in Fort Erie. Apparently, the boys are all on the mend and things are looking up.

As a tribute to their friends, the minor midget AA Rangers will be wearing the green Forssa jerseys tonight in their game with Ancaster. Very cool.

I know I'm not the only one heading to work this morning, it just feels like it.

I've regaled you all with the story of courage in the face of adversity shown by our Finnish guests last week as they battled through illness to represent their town and country.

An atom B hockey team from China -- made up of ex-pat foreigners and Chinese nationals -- was chased from its hotel by fire while attending a major tournament in the nation's capital.

The call went out for help -- we need equipment. And the locals responded, and so did the team from Beijing that went on to win their division championship.

Another good story of friendship and sportsmanship, this time from London -- a city which probably hosts more hockey tournaments each year than any other in Ontario. There always seems to be a tournament in London.

The peewee white Oakville Wings were in the same tournament as Chris and his team. It was going to be a fun couple of days (especially since we were in different divisions and wouldn't have to play each other. No one likes driving for 90 minutes to a tournament to play a team from across the street!)

On the eve of the tournament came the sad news of a family emergency that would prevent the Wings' regular goalie from attending the tournament with his teammates. All the boys were disappointed and they felt very bad for their teammate.

Once in London, coach Rob Gibbons and his other coaches had to figure out who would play goal. For the first game, they used one of their defencemen. My scouts tell me he played heroically in a losing cause, but the coaches knew it wasn't the best solution. The boy subbing as goalie wasn't comfortable there, and they all wanted all the boys to have fun. And it's hard to have fun if you're playing goal and wishing you were skating.

They told their predicament to tournament organizers who shortly produced a list of locally available peewee goalies and phone numbers. After a few tries, Rob was able to recruit a local athlete to join the Wings for their next three games.

I'm told that young Justin (below) didn't just settle in nicely between the pipes (where he proved to be a very worthy member of the team) but he also embraced -- and was embraced by -- his new teammates completely -- joining them at the hotel for swims, attending the team meals and outings, etc. They missed their friend and regular goalie, but they were glad to make a new friend, too.

It sounds trite, but this is exactly why we all go to tournaments. The things that happen between the games are always -- always -- the things that are remembered years and years later. I could bore you with 100 examples, but to cite just one -- 10 years from now, no one on the minor midget AA Rangers will remember making the semi-finals of the 2008 Richard Bell tournament. But none of them will ever forget the Finns.

And for the boys on the Wings to return from London knowing they all have one more friend, well, I bet that's sweeter than those medals they're all proudly wearing from their performance in their final game.

Hats off to Rob and all the Wings for being great ambassadors for our town and association. Say hi to the guys, and their temporary goalie, below! (The photo is small because it's from a phone camera. But I still see the smiles!)

The Leafs lost last night in a very ugly effort -- or lack of effort -- at home. There was nothing commendable to say about this one, so I'm going to leave it there.

I mentioned Columbus goalie and MOHA alumnus Steve Mason yesterday -- and then, between periods of the Winter Classic from Chicago, Don Cherry brought up his name, too. And Cherry recalled going out to watch Mason toil for the Oakville Rangers midget squad, noting that in those days Mason wasn't even the number 1 guy on the Rangers.

His point: never stop chasing your dream. Yes, the odds are long. But let someone else worry about the math. You do the work on the ice, someone will notice.

Side note: Mason's coach with the Rangers that year was coach of the minor bantam A Rangers a couple of years ago and my kid was on that team. It's safe to say coach Bob knew how to get a lot out of hockey players.

Here's hoping Steve Mason continues to find success in the big leagues, and here's hoping the rest of you keep chasing the dream.

The post-holiday hockey season starts tonight. Pad and the Rangers host Ancaster tonight, Chris has a game tomorrow morning, a Saturday night Ranger practice has been thankfully scrapped. Chris is timekeeper for two novice games Sunday and then has a practice, and the Rangers are in Caledon to take on the first-place Hawks on Sunday afternoon.

Short update today. We had a quiet night at home last night and watched one of the most entertaining hockey games I've seen in a long time as Canada beat the USA at the world junior tournament.

Another Oakville native, Steve Mason is staking a strong claim to be the NHL rookie of the year as he does things for Columbus that defy his young age and experience.

I promised a better photo of the minor midget AA Rangers with the FoPS 93 juniors from Finland. Here it is:

Also, there are more pictures available from the Rangers-FoPS game on Dec 29, thanks to a Ranger parent. They are excellent and the Finnish folks can find them here.