hockey blog march11

March 31, 2011

Out like a lion, I guess.

The final day of March greeted me as I picked up the newspapers outside with rain, snow, slush, cold and little promise of spring or the Blue Jays home opener tomorrow night, which I will mostly miss because of a fundraiser thingy I have to attend.

Where’s spring?

- - -

The house league bantam divisions put on a pretty good show on centre stage at MOHA Awards Week last night.

Both the red and white games went to OT, with the white tilt requiring a shootout to settle things before the Flyers finally prevailed on the third shooter. 2-1 final for Flyers over the Raiders.

In the Red match, Higgins Rentals edged Ontario Auto Salvage 3-2 in OT.

Brendan Dickie, who was the overtime hero a few years back when a team I coached won the big game, was again the OT hero.

Pretty exciting stuff.

Congratulations to all the players on both teams for a great season and a great night of hockey.

Below are the Flyers, white division bantam champs:

- - -

The midget AAA Oakville Rangers lost their third straight game at the Central Canada OHF midget championships last night, 4-2 to London.

That leaves the guys sitting at 1-3 with two games left.

Given that four of the seven teams will get to a semi final game, all is not yet lost.

But winning today against the Ottawa 67s is pretty much a “must do.”

Good luck.

- - -

Meanwhile, as part of our continuing comprehensive election coverage:

On Wednesday, one of the leaders said some stuff that one of the other leaders scoffed at before saying stuff of his own while the other leaders watched and listened and then said some more stuff.

More breaking news here as it becomes available.

- - -

As if to underline what a great country we live in, Air Canada has a big ad in the Globe and Mail today. They will fly you to Bejing and back for $760 (excluding fees and taxes).

Return to Sydney, NS, (including fees and taxes) is $800.82.

Discuss.

March 30, 2011

It’s been quite a spring in the news business.

The revolutions rolling through the Middle East should not be a surprise to anyone who has read about the hopelessness of the future facing the youth in that region. So much oil-driven wealth concentrated in the hands of very, very few while tens of millions wallow in poverty with no prospect of a way out is a bad, bad recipe for the leadership.

And now there’s a war in Libya – with no real conclusions to wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in sight. I’m not saying that tackling despots around the ankles and calling them to account for decades of terrorism and human rights abuses isn’t the right thing to do. But . . . geopolitics is a complicated field. The leadership in Libya has been comprised of terrorists and thugs for decades. What took us so long? And can we actually afford this fight, right now? But . . . can we afford not to fight?

And then there’s Japan. The depth and gravity of the challenge they face after the earthquake, tsunami, and ensuing radiological catastrophe is such that Japan may not be put back together again in my lifetime.

To say that of Haiti is one thing – Haiti being so abjectly stricken with poverty, globally ignored and developmentally irrelevant that its earthquake and rebuild can at least be viewed as a fresh start and a chance to get some things right, and maybe bring hope for a new type of future.

But Japan? Japan is a developed, advanced society.

The human demands in the wake of disaster, whether Haiti or Japan or Canada, are universal. Water. Food. Shelter. Medical care.

But in a developed country – and an island at that, with finite resources and the need to manufacture and export to drive its economy and create jobs for its people – the demands are more, well, demanding.

Working highways, rail lines and an air traffic system. Electricity. Functioning seaports. Functioning supply chains with precise management to secure supplies of food, water, fuel, medicine and more – everything you throw in your shopping cart and take for granted is now a luxury item, from light blubs to honeydew.

The nuclear generating plants damaged in the disasters are ruined. They will no doubt have to be ripped down and some estimates say that could take 30 years.

Replacing the lost energy is no walk in the park. You don’t just run down to Canadian Tire and buy plans for a new nuclear power plant. (If they were in the weekend flyer then they’d be sold out anyway.)

Planning and construction under normal circumstances is a decade-long process. Whether the people of Japan have any appetite for new reactors is an open question. But whether they have any appetite for 30 years of rolling blackouts may be moot.

And then here at home, we have a federal election that seemed simultaneously unnecessary and inevitable. I am of the old school on elections – I think campaigns matter and the outcome is usually anything but a foregone conclusion, except in rare circumstances (1984 and 1993 spring immediately to mind in my experience.)

All of this is a rather windy setup for the following point and an introduction to a link.

We spend an inordinate amount of time in our house talking about wars and politics and governments and policy – what high school teachers back in the day called “current affairs.”

Our conversations are not high-minded, but around ways that affect our house and home and jobs. We challenge each other’s thinking on issues and while we generally agree on broad direction (war is bad) we can differ on nuance and interpretation and implementation (war is bad, but Gaddafy is killing his own people. Discuss.)

There was a column in the New York Times last week and I quoted the following line to my spouse (I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to my wife, although I will concede that reading NYT columns aloud during meal preparation may not be universally recognized as old-school romance. Your loss!)

Here’s the money quote:

“When the most powerful country ever to inhabit the earth finds it so easy to plunge into the horror of warfare but almost impossible to find adequate work for its people or to properly educate its young, it has lost its way entirely.”

That quote resonated with Laura exactly like I knew it would. A wife, a mother (of two boys who in the next 10 years will have to find their own way in the world), a journalist, a volunteer, and much more.

Her reply:

“Can I go find that guy and give him a big kiss?”

Um, sure. I guess. Wait. What?

Anyway.

You can read the whole column here.

Feel free to discuss it, and more, with someone you love.

- - -

How about those Leafs?

Trust me when I say:

It Just. Doesn’t. Matter.

Too little. Too late.

But perhaps, maybe a reason to feel good about wishing away the 2011 playoffs and summer and fast forward to the fall for the start of yet another season.

Click here for the sunny side of the story.

- - -

The Oakville Blades won in OT last night to force a game 7 in their OJHL semi final with Kingston. The series will be decided Friday night at Sixteen Mile Sports Complex.

Meanwhile, the midget AAA Rangers, who lost only four regular season games all season, lost twice on Tuesday at the OHF Central Canada tournament, where the winner goes to the Telus Cup national championship.

Oakville lost 3-2 to Waterloo in the morning and 4-3 to Mississauga in the evening.

The losses leave the guys with a 1-2 record with three games left.

They need to run the table to get a spot in a semi final on the weekend. These guys have lots of horsepower and I’m sure they can do it.

Good luck today against the hosts London, and the rest of the way.

March 29, 2011

The Leafs are on the tube tonight playing Buffalo and whatever air that is left in the balloon will likely blow out tonight.

Win or lose, they won’t make the playoffs.

But if they win, Joe Bowen has a reason to live for a couple more days.

- - -

The bantam white and red MOHA finals go tomorrow night (6p and 7:30p at Joshua Creek.) Show up early.

It’s going to be loud.

- - -

I stand corrected.

MOHA now has 12 OMHA titles this spring – which as a brother blogger pointed out last night is more impressive than 11.

And the midget AAA Rangers opened the OHF tournament in London with a 7-0 pounding of Ottawa, which is pretty good start.

- - -

Can you wear out a wine glass?

If you answered “no” to that question I would respectfully suggest that you’ve never witnessed a book club in full flight.

But that’s not the point of this blurb.

Last night Laura broke the oldest remaining piece of glass stemware from an era long, long past.

I think the blue-tinted wine glasses – not crystal, just plain old glass – were a wedding shower gift from years and years ago.

They were not fancy, but they were the favoured receptacle for sipping wine while preparing dinner or casually hanging out.

One by one over the years these wine glasses succumbed to an ugly, and probably inevitable, fate. Tipped and cracked or dropped and smashed or . . . whatever.

I can’t recall if there were four or eight originally. But I do know there was but a single orphan left – and that scratched and worn and dishwasher-beaten glass stood as a lonely but loved sentinel.

And then, there was none.

Laura was messing with a pot near the sink as I was getting ready to make the daily tour to BTNL to pick up Pad.

Like Gordie Howe greeting a defenceman trying to pinch, her elbow subtly brushed the wine glass and it gracefully leaned, teetered and then dove into the empty stainless steel sink.

It wasn’t a smash and crash. It was much more graceful than that, almost slow motion in its execution. We both had ample time to see what was happening and no chance whatsoever to change what fate dictated.

There is no mending broken hearts or snapped stemware and a glass with nearly a quarter century of loyal service, great memories and untold experience shook off Laura’s mortal coil and touched the face of Wolf Blass shortly after 8p last night.

The memorial service was brief and informal and barely a beat was skipped in the kitchen. No toasts were committed; everyone just moved on.

I left for BTNL, shaken but not stirred.

- - -

March 28, 2011

I spent a fair amount of the weekend either in rinks or driving to and from rinks, which isn’t unusual except that I didn’t have any kids on the ice and didn’t have a team involved in the action.

But I’m glad I went out to watch.

On Saturday morning, the tyke red final proved to be a scorcher of a contest with the Sharks – the same guys who put the dagger in the Blackhawks last Saturday – prevailing with a 4-3 win courtesy of a breakaway goal with just 35 seconds left in the third period and overtime looming.

Neither team deserved to lose this one, but someone had to win.

The kids put on an awesome display of hockey before a packed house.

It was terrific!

- - -

On Sunday at noon I went to Sixteen Mile Sports Complex to watch the Novice AAA Rangers play Clarington for the OMHA title.

Just as at the tyke game on Saturday, my seatmate was Oakville minor sports superfan John M., who provided much entertaining commentary.

The novices are just a year older than the kids I spent a winter with in tyke. I was absolutely floored by the skill levels on both teams. The skating, passing, shooting and play making was simply astounding for kids so young.

The home team was never really in trouble in this one, prevailing with a 2-0 victory. Clarington didn’t really mount a concentrated attack until late in the third and Oakville kept their cool to take the win.

Now here’s the really remarkable thing.

This victory marks the 11^th OMHA championship captured by the Minor Oaks Hockey Association this spring.

Maybe I’m way off base, but that has to be very close to some kind of a record – if not for MOHA, then for any OMHA centre.

Having an enrolment of some 4,000 players to pick from doesn’t hurt. But an awful lot of coordination, coaching, organizing and execution go into producing champions.

In the season where the association marked its 50^th anniversary and the opening of the spectacular Sixteen Mile Creek Sports Complex, MOHA stood very tall indeed among Ontario minor hockey groups.

My congratulations to everyone who played a part -- from parents swinging a gate for the Timbit IP players on Sunday mornings to the midget AAA Rangers who starting today begin their quest for a spot in the Telus Cup national midget tournament, having already won the OMHA crown.

It’s been quite a year and it’s not over yet.

- - -

My friend Rob Gibbons has been a fixture in Oakville arenas for a long time -- I met him way back when the 1996 cohort started in the Initiation Program back in 2001 or 2002.

He coaches the Nexgen 96ers in the the bantam red division. He's a passionate hockey dad, parent, and coach. I've always known him to prepare his teams to compete hard, to play fair, and with respect. He is also a strong and consistent voice in the debate about concussions in minor hockey, long before the current debate took flight this season. He tries to not just do the right thing, but teach the right thing.

Anyway, Rob's team had some money left over at the end of the season and I was not at all surprised that they decided not to spend the money on men's hair pieces.

This quote from the Red Cross volunteer Wayne Thorpe says it all, after the team handed over a cheque for $800 towards the Japanese relief effort.

“I was honored to receive this generous donation on behalf of the Canadian Red Cross. The scale of this disaster is enormous and financial support is still very much needed. It is inspiring to see our Canadian youth taking real interest in and contributing to the international community.”

Yes, it is inspiring.

We're blessed to the point of being spoiled in Oakville. This was nice to hear about.

“As many hockey teams are currently wrapping up their hockey seasons, we hope that our actions will serve as an example for others to follow,” said Rob.

You can go to www.redcross.ca to donate to the Japan Earthquake Tsunami Relief effort.

Congratulations to the 96ers.

- - -

The tyke Blackhawks gathered at Mainway Sports in Burlington on Saturday afternoon, not to lament but to celebrate. We have 16 players and 16 success stories on the Blackhawks and the bench staff and parents could not have been prouder of them all.

At the start of the season, Coach Dave told the parents that my role on the team was not unlike that of the myth of Sasquatch – I was the volunteer house league non-parent coach. You don’t see many of those except in grainy eight mm videos shot 30 years ago.

If I was Sasquatch then Dave was sort of like Yoda – judiciously dispensing wisdom and hopefully sparing some of the parents trips through the potholes that he and I have known all too well over a decade of coaching, convening, parenting, rep tryouts, and other lies and misdemeanours committed in the name of minor hockey.

(Editor's note: The Yoda and Sasquatch imagery is a bit jarring, I'll admit.)

If I could wave a wand and assemble the same group for another season together I would in a heartbeat. But we all know that doesn’t happen and for good reason.

But the bench staff we had was a great mix of veterans (old guys?) and enthused younger parents.

The team manager we had is better than 95 per cent of all rep managers working in Ontario right now – he had a spreadsheet tracking his spreadsheets.

The team moms – we had a committee, not one “mom” designate – were awesome. Our parties rocked, our events ran with precision.

The parent group was relentlessly supportive, but not blindly supportive -- a perfect balance. They asked questions, were engaged and involved, and were a pleasure to deal with.

The other coaches who staffed the bench with Dave and I brought exactly the right temperature to the team. Never too high, never too low. Just right.

At the closing party, more than one parent said to me “I learned so much this year.”

I’ll give credit for that to Dave – we decided early on that (in addition to the mandate of fun-fun-fun) we’d try to share as much as we knew with as many people who wanted to hear it as was practical, but without sounding preachy. I think we struck a good balance on all of that.

For me, this is the “last post” on the Blackhawks. I have written about the guys here at length and they will hold an honoured spot on my wall of fame in the basement rec room, where grinning faces of teams from yesteryear hang above my son’s equipment trees.

So let me finish on the Blackhawks by saying that like driving a car, coaching kids is not a right it is a privilege.

And in that regard I was privileged beyond my wildest hopes for the last six months.

Yes, it’s true I didn’t have a kid on the team. (That’s a remarkably liberating circumstance when you’re corralling the ner’do’wells at a Boston Pizza in Brantford!)

Yes, I was largely at stranger at 5p weekday practices. (Note to MOHA – the 5p weekday practice is ridiculously punitive for the dads who want to go on the ice. 6p should be the earliest weekday practice and there’s lots of ice in Oakville now. Right?)

But you need only have a short conversation with my spouse to understand how much I enjoyed Saturday mornings and the tournaments in Brantford and Oshawa and the all the rest.

As a small illustration of this, the four bench staff divided up the team roster for the party – we would each say a few words about four kids. One of the guys asked me if I had a preference.

I laughed. With the exception of Ben, who I have known almost literally as long as he’s been alive, I had no preference.

“I could talk about any of them for 90 minutes each.”

I could, too.

But I didn’t.

No, after the ball hockey and batting cages, and after the chips and pop and pizza, everyone wanted to go home. The team had been together since 11a for the game and it was now pushing 4p. So we kept it moving.

The kids were (mostly) quiet and shy as we honoured them one by one.

And then there were eloquent speeches and thank-yous from the parents.

And just before we put a full lid on the 2010-11 Blackhawks, I was presented with one last gift – a white Blackhawks cap signed by the entire team, apparently in recognition of my scribbling here from time to time about the team.

The gesture touched me deeply.

I wore the hat home and showed it off to Laura and Pad and Chris. And then I took it off and I won’t be wearing out again any time soon.

It will join those hockey and lacrosse team pictures lining the wall on my wall of fame.

I’m sure I’ll wear it occasionally but that hat is special.

Almost as special as the kids and the stories behind those 16 signatures.

Go Blackhawks!

March 25, 2011

Nice day Thursday, what with the wet heavy snow turning into cement everywhere as the temperature fell.

I guess the good news is that the snow doesn’t have much of a chance against the spring sun. Bring it on.

- - -

Tomorrow will mark the end of the tyke hockey season – the championship games are tomorrow and our squad will then have a pizza bash for the boys and say our farewells until next year.

It’s trite, but it really does seem like only a month ago that we were putting the teams together and trying to figure out what we had. But the reality is that was six months ago.

Time flies when you’re having fun, and we had a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, Chris and his bantam team play their final game tonight.

I missed more of his games than I saw this year, which I really do regret but it was hard to avoid.

His brother almost always had a road game somewhere on Friday nights, and I generally volunteered for that piece of blood-and-sweat soaked fun.

But I really enjoy the bantam house league games tremendously and I’m glad I can be there tonight for their finale.

I’ve coached so many of the 1996 kids that we know people on every team – people we know well and consider friends. So that makes watching the games almost a community event.

Plus, the Sixteen Mile facility is a great place to play the games and to watch. Having suffered through Kinoak and Maplegrove, I’m glad Oakville finally got a facility like this and that my family still had a kid in the system to enjoy it.

The end of this season marks the 14^th consecutive year for me on the bench, 13 of those in Oakville.

I was lucky enough to see the first son through Timbits in Ottawa to junior A.

And I have been with Chris from Timbits to next year’s launch into minor midget.

I still have trouble believing that the 1996 kids that launched the Initiation Program in MOHA are going to be entering their OHL draft year.

And more recently I have been a non-parent coach in Timbits (again) and tyke (again.)

We will see what the 2011-12 season brings.

As always I learned a lot.

- - -

MOHA Awards Week is a pretty big event on the town’s sporting calendar. The rinks are jammed, the crowds are noisy, and the kids who have earned a spot in the championship game get a taste of what it feels like to play one game for all the marbles in a very loud and exciting forum. It is our town’s version of March Madness.

Both my guys have been to the big stage, and both won championships – Chris being a part of the greatest MOHA championship game in history (my opinion) a few years ago, a squad that won in double OT in front of a packed house at Joshua Creek.

But that was then.

A whole bunch of kids will write their own pages in history over the next few days.

You can click here to find the schedule. If you can get out to a game you will not be disappointed.

In the meantime, the temperatures are on the climb and sunny skies are forecast.

Drive carefully. Cheer with gusto when you get to the rink. And hug the kids.

March 24, 2011

Wednesday was just one of those days for me and it progressively bounced further off track as the day went on. I won’t bore you with the details from work.

But I didn’t get to leave until about 6:30p, which put me on the coveted 6:43p train home.

Fine. I can live with that.

Laura was going out to her ~~wine tasting~~ book club, Chris was gone to a youth club, and I had to pick up Pad at the gym.

I was basically on my own for dinner and I was craving this hamburger mess I make, so en route to BTNL I stopped at Sobeys for meat, mushrooms, and other stuff to cut up.

Incredibly, Sobeys Maplegrove had no hamburger. Who ever heard of a grocery store with no hamburger?

Fine. I can live with that.

I got in the car and drove back towards the GO Station to Whole Foods. I was sure they would have hamburger. And because it was Whole Foods, it would cost $75.

Fine. I can live with that. (Not really, but it’s part of the narrative now.)

And probably they did have hamburger. Regular. Lean. Extra lean. But since they closed 30 seconds before I got there because of the storm (which was pretty much over, BTW) I’ll never know.

Fine. I can live with that.

So I get in the car and go to the gym and pick up Pad who is, as he always is after working out, in a very good mood.

I take him home but we can’t get in the driveway. The plow came and blocked the entrance, plus there’s about eight inches of wet, heavy snow filling the driveway. I’m going to need the snow blower.

Fine. I can live with that.

I go inside to change and there’s chicken cooked for Pad so he’s all set.

I go back out and one of the daughters of the couple next door is struggling to shovel. I wave her off. “I’ll do it. Give me a minute.”

Fine. I can live with that.

So I do my driveway. And her driveway. And the driveway of the guy across the street who hasn’t come home yet.

And then I go back in the house. It’s 9p. I sit down and have a glass of water. I want to nap.

But by this time it’s almost time for me to go pick up Chris. He usually gets a ride home with one of the kids but the roads were awful and I didn’t relish the idea of him in a van full of kids on icy streets.

On my way to get him at Wendy’s (the club goes out for a burger after they do whatever it is they do) I stop at the Glen Abbey Sobeys.

Hamburger Nirvana! I’m good to go.

I pick up Chris, ask if anyone else needs a ride (no thank you) and we’re off on North Service Road . . . until we see the car in the ditch, the police car, and the tow truck that have the street totally blocked.

Fine. I can live with that. No one seems to be hurt and it’s not my car. Or Laura’s.

I haven’t eaten yet. But now beer is starting to feel like a better option than hamburger mess.

Sitting there for a few minutes, Chris suggests backing up and navigating the parking lots to get around the mess. He’s brilliant, and he’s mine. And it worked.

On our way again with car full of Chris, ground beef and new found optimism we cruise along . . . until we encounter a snowplow, perpendicular to the road.

WTF?

Fine. I can live with that.

I turn to Chris.

“You know what, pal? My entire day has been like one of your video games. Every time I got some momentum, someone rolled a barrel at me, or threw a bomb, or I stepped on a snake. Or something.”

(I was speaking metaphorically, but by this point in the day if Super Mario had bounced onto the hood of my car or Tony Hawk came through the window on a skateboard, I would not have been surprised.)

He laughed. The plow straightened out. We drove home.

On the weekend, a neighbour left me 24 Corona as thanks for a minor chore on my part. (I love my neighbours, this one especially.)

I cooked my hamburger mess.

I opened the box of Corona.

There are now fewer than 24 in the box.

Fine. I can live with that.

- - -

No matter the season, many of these kids are regulars on the blog. Baseball champs with the mosquito Oakville A’s, and now OMHA minor atom AAA champs.

What a great thrill for the coaches, parents and especially the players.

They will never forget this – beating Halton in overtime to cop the crown with Ryan O’Hara (do you think HE wore green last Thursday??) scoring the winner.

Way to go guys. Congratulations. SMILE!

The champs are Lucas Lorimer, Bradley Somers, Duncan Penman, Kyle Kachan, Bill Thompson, Ty Jackson, Dylan Jackson, Jacob Pokocky, Ryan O'hara, Alton Mcdermott, Will Thomas, Tanner Elson, Chris Ishmael, Connor Rudderham, Clark Hiebert, Aleisha, Song, Liam Richardson.
Coaches: Bryan Mcdermott, Paul Jackson, Damon Kachan, and trainer Bryan Richardson

- - -

OK, this is tough. Try to hold onto the rope while I set this one up.

A few weeks ago there was a item here about Gerry Rafferty's death and the sax solo on Bakers Street, which led to a lot -- a lot, lot -- of email from readers about sax solos.

So, anyway.

If you're like me then you grew up hating George Michael -- he was one of the dweebs from WHAM! and made a gazillion dollars off bad pop music before he became famous for other stuff that I won't get into here.

But he did also have a chart-busting solo album in the 1980s that contained a hit single (which I also hate) called Careless Whisper, and this song has a lot of sax in it, including the opening riff which is pretty much a solo.

So this guy in California has taken to showing up unannounced in food courts and Wal Marts and all manner of places and basically annoying the hell out of people by playing the opening sax riff over and over.

The video is more than five minutes long, but if you're like me and grew up hating George Michael, then you won't want to miss a second of this.

When the security guards are threatening to arrest him and explain that he's not above the law and someone yells, "He is above the law!!"

Beautiful.

You know what to do.

Just press play.

March 23, 2011

Spring? It felt more like January out there this morning, with the snow coming at me sideways as I made my way to the train.

And to think that I considered changing the tires on my car last week!

Glad I waited.

- - -

The fate of Chris and the Jets was decided for them last night before they took the ice – a victory in an earlier game officially eliminated our heroes.

They still played a strong game before losing 3-2.

Last game of the season on Friday night.

Then it will really be spring.

- - -

Hey! The Leafs won again. So did Buffalo.

Which underlines what I told you months and months ago.

Toronto will not make the playoffs. It simply is not going to happen.

Read more on the NHL moves here.

Read the Globe and Mail’s editorial on the half measures here.

- - -

Now, to illustrate why it is so important for the NHL to get it right, a couple of videos.

The first is from a game between Kanata and Cornwall in the Central Junior League in Ontario, a tier 2 junior A loop.

Watch the video and you will see a very large player checked by a smaller player. You will then see the larger player stalk and provoke the smaller player, eventually punching him in the head from behind, knocking him to the ice. He then jabs the tip of his stick at his face while he is down. You will then see the larger player crosscheck the guy across the back of the neck while he was on his knees. The offending player has been suspended indefinitely.

Police have opted not to lay charges in another incident earlier in the game where a goalie was ran, leaving him with a concussion. Suspensions are “pending” in that one.

Lovely. It's difficult and premature to jump to conclusions without seeing what went on before the incident in this video. But it sure is ugly.

Read more here. Click below for the video.

OK, and on Saturday in the Manitoba Jr A League, a major brawl resulted in 86 games in suspensions. The parents must be so proud.

Click here for more on this mess.

And -- you know the drill -- click to see the ugliness.

- - -

Since I'm on a bit of a roll here, more happy news.

Click here to read about the Halifax-area novice -- NOVICE -- coach who has been suspended indefinitely for allegedly sending a player on to the ice to "get" an opposing player.

Novice.

The coach faces a possible lifetime ban.

If the allegation is true . . . awww, never mind.

- - -

That's enough happy news to hold you for this warm, sunny March day.

March Madness is on so I plan to spend 90 minutes on a step machine at Goodlife watching hoops and sweating profusely in between driving Pad to the gym, the rink, the grocery store, wherever.

Then maybe a cheeseburger?

Enjoy the day.

And don't despair. Hockey is still a great sport.

March 15, 2011

Beware the Ides of March . . .

- - -

March Break is upon our house. Blogging will be intermittent, I’m sure.

My eventful Monday included running a slew of errands in the morning, taking Pad to the gym/rink, Laura and Chris to the airport in the late afternoon, and then heading back to the rink to watch Pad’s on-ice workout.

No question, I know how to have fun. (I won't even get into the adventures of waking early to take out the garbage today.)

Pad and I got home in time to see the Leafs get pummelled by Tampa, but I was looking forward to an evening at home with him regardless of the Leafs.

And then his girlfriend texted and invited him over for an hour so I drove him over there and went home to a very quiet house.

Laura and Chris arrived in Cape Breton without incident and she emailed just before midnight to say he was sitting in his grandmother’s kitchen happily eating chocolate chip cookies. He’s a lucky boy.

I expect he’ll sleep until 2p.

- - -

The events unfolding in Japan could not be imagined by Hollywood’s most fertile minds, because if you made a disaster movie like this, no one would find it credible.

But here we have it – earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. Tens of thousands dead or missing, hundreds of thousands injured, millions homeless. An already shaky economy facing reconstruction that can’t be imagined.

I’m guessing everyone has their own opinion of the Japanese, some formed from outdated preconceptions or a good/bad experience with a car. Mine is shaped by first-hand experience – albeit from a perch with privileged access.

I spent about a week there in 1991. I was part of a media entourage covering then-prime minister Mulroney’s trip to the Far East.

Usually such trips are gruelling but unremarkable, but this one actually had its share of interesting moments.

For example, while we were en route to Hong Kong over the Pacific we learned that Indian prime minister Rajiv Ghandi had been assassinated. Mulroney came to the back of the plane to speak to us, and it was clear he was rattled by the news. He respected Ghandi and considered him a friend and ally.

In Tokyo, Mulroney went to unusual lengths to criticize Bob Rae, then the NDP premier of Ontario, which set of a trans-Pacific pissing match that amused and occupied the ink-stained hoard.

Mulroney also presided over the opening of the new Canadian embassy in Tokyo, a spectacular building near the Imperial Palace. I remember interviewing the architect – a Japanese Canadian who spent his adolescence in a World War Two internment camp in Alberta for the crime of being of Japanese descent. The project was an emotional one for Raymond Moriyama.

And I got to be the pool reporter when Mulroney went to the Imperial Palace to meet the emperor, and it was at that meeting that Japan formally apologized to Canada for atrocities committed during the war.

But amid all the news, some boring, some fun, some actually newsworthy, I remember two things the most.

First, during a short period of down time in Kyoto, me and three other reporters toured the Golden Temple – we were just killing time, but the Buddhist temple is quite a place. Apparently they don’t get a lot of six foot three inch red heads in Japan. I was literally swarmed by a group of school girls, all trying to touch my hair and shaking their cameras at me, yelling in broken English “Picture! Picture! Me you! Me you!” The Toronto Sun reporter actually wrote about it.

To this day I imagine my picture on fridges and basement walls in Japan, a distant reminder of the time the Canadian Godzilla walked their shores.

The other memory I have is of a young intern assigned to the Canadian media. She was just a kid working in the Canadian embassy. She was Japanese and keen and smart.

And like many Japanese, she was enthralled by Anne of Green Gables. She questioned every reporter carefully to find someone who had been to Prince Edward Island and sure enough, when she found out I grew up in Nova Scotia, she produced a map of the Maritimes and wanted to know EVERYTHING.

I told her I played the golf course at Green Gables but I didn’t spend a lot of time touring the house. It didn’t matter. Her questions about PEI were endless – I’m guessing that my patience wasn’t. But tired and far from home, it was nice for us travelling scribes to meet someone so relentlessly polite, and so genuinely in the thrall of our country.

Every time I turn the TV on and see the images from Japan, I think about those school kids I posed with for the pictures, and the young attaché from the embassy, and I wonder if they’re OK, and if their families are OK.

Twenty years on, I haven’t forgotten how well I was treated in Japan.

I hope some measure of relief comes soon from the waves of terrible news. The suffering is unimaginable.

Click here to read about how you can help.

- - -

On the weekend Pad had to get out of bed both mornings to attend all-day driver education training. Money well spent, etc etc.

He’s not an early riser – not many teens are – and the weekend was no exception and Sunday morning with the lost hour of sleep was particularly heinous (or so it seemed.)

But the morning was crisp and bright and we piled into the car, a little chilled but off to attack the day.

He put his music on the radio and we turned down Dorval, the streets quiet and the only signs of life being the fingers of steam and smoke gently curling out of the chimneys of the houses we passed.

I looked over at him, recalling how many spring mornings started just like this, with us bound for a cold, wet field in Guelph or Six Nations or Waterloo or . . . wherever.

“It feels like field lacrosse weather,” I said.

He broke into a smile.

“Yeah, it sure does.”

I still miss field lacrosse.

Even the cold, wet mornings.

March 11, 2011

On the eve of March Break, the issue of the Chara hit isn’t going away.

There is lots of news and commentary, some thoughtful and reasoned, some not.

In the former category, I point to the Globe and Mail’s continuing excellent coverage around the matter of head injuries in hockey. It’s well worth your time to surf over there and look at the many stories they are turning out every day on this issue.

In the latter category, I would put NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman’s remarks in reaction to league mega sponsor Air Canada expressing concern about having it’s brand associated with a league with a head injury problem. Mr Bettman, if I may paraphrase, suggested Air Canada could go pound sand.

Click here for more on that.

- - -

So, any guesses what we have planned for March Break? If you guessed "hockey" well, good guess. For half of us.

Half the household is going to board a plane for Cape Breton.

And half isn’t.

Laura and Chris will be heading for the sacred sod on Monday for a week, visiting with her folks, her sister, the girl cousins, and others. She assures me it won’t be relaxing to which I say . . . I know.

It will be awful. <cough, cough>

Meanwhile, I will be reprising my usual role as Pad’s personal driver.

He has driving lessons scheduled, and will be on the ice daily for the next 12 or 13 days straight and someone has to get him there until the aforementioned driving lessons reach a hopefully inevitable crescendo and he gets his own licence.

But even if he did have the right to drive on his own, someone would still have to be here with him to finance the groceries, cook, clean, and chaperone. And that’s me.

It’s no great hardship, honestly. He’s good company and we like the same food. He doesn’t mind eating over the sink and he doesn’t care if he trips on my shoes in the mud room. He thinks the way I do the laundry is just fine, he’ll watch the Leafs and NCAA hoops and PGA Tour golf. He likes the Keg and all-you-can-eat rib night at Montana’s and it doesn’t bother him at all when I go to bed before him and it doesn't bother me that I wake up way before him.

So, you get a flavour of the week ahead for me.

Laura is looking forward to taking her mom shopping, cooking some meals for her dad, maybe sitting in a quiet corner and reading a tiny little bit, and learning how to use all the cool features on her new iPhone.

Chris is looking forward to all of that, plus sleeping really late and eating a lot of Cape Breton chocolate chip cookies.

- - -

Chris and the bantam Jets play tonight. Due the March Break, the tykes have a scrimmage tomorrow, not a real game. Still, all fun.

Pad is scrimmaging with a bunch of juniors today and tomorrow night, after which they all swear and grunt at each other. (I’m not actually sure about that, but it seems like a logical assumption.)

I hope your plans, whatever they are, go well. Grunting and swearing is optional.

Good luck to everyone still pursuing OMHA, GTHL and other championships. Games that matter, right?

Drive safely on the roads and remember that five minutes late and alive is better than a lot of other outcomes.

Please spare a moment for a thought, a prayer, a donation, for the people in Japan who face, again, an incredible natural disaster. Watching the images on TV simply leaves one speechless, literally, at the power of nature and the powerlessness of people.

Stay safe. Play hard. Have fun.

Hug the kids.

March 10, 2011

I’ve been up to my ears at work so that means . . . no time for the blog.

Sorry if you’ve been hitting “refresh” and wondering if I fell down a well.

- - -

The controversy of the week, in a season of near daily controversies for the NHL, is Zdeno Chara’s crushing, brutal hit on Montreal Canadiens’ Max Pacioretty earlier this week.

On the one hand, Chara was only doing what hockey players are taught to do early on – finish your check. There was less than “one steamboat” between Pacioretty getting rid of the puck and getting hit by the train that is Chara.

But.

The guy delivering the hit has to bear responsibility for what he is about to do, and if the rules of hockey are going to change anywhere, maybe that’s where the change starts.

If you hit me into the boards and my stick flies up and hits you in the face and cuts you, I’m getting five minutes for a high sticking penalty for drawing blood. It wasn’t my fault, but it’s my responsibility to control my stick 100 per cent of the time.

If I shoot the puck into the netting above the glass in my own end, I’m getting two minutes for delay of game.

But if I carelessly drill you into a collision with the part of the rink where the players’ bench ends and the glass starts? That’s your problem.

And that’s where I disagree.

Until the league mandates that everyone on the ice has an interest in the safety of everyone out there, then nothing will change.

Chara’s intent may not have been to break Pacioretty’s neck and give him a severe concussion, but he did. And the rules need to change to make him answer for that.

The other thing that needs clear interpretation is the whole idea of “finishing your check.”

Exactly why is it OK to hit a guy who doesn’t have the puck anymore?

How much time between him releasing the puck and someone hitting him is acceptable?

I see more games in a winter than most people.

I didn’t know when I played.

I didn’t know when I coached.

I don’t know now watching my kids play.

And I have no clue and get no insight from watching the NHL on TV.

You can read more here on the debate around the hit, which is getting considerable international attention, too.

Press play to review the hit on YouTube.

- - -

A really fun place to hang out for the next 48 to 72 hours will be Pearson Airport, or, “Hell” as I like to call it.

With folks hitting the airplanes for March Break, Canada’s largest airport will be a zoo.

A bunch of kids from our tyke team will be travelling, and I wish them all a safe vacation and a reminder that the coaches prefer Corona.

I’ll try to be witty and relevant tomorrow.

March 7, 2011

Go Blackhawks.

With Coach Dave off at the SCTA AAA bantam qualifier in Guelph, we took the tyke Blackhawks into battle on Saturday against the league’s 2^nd place team.

We didn’t tell them they had to win to have a chance at the final. We didn’t want that kind of pressure on the bench.

But, it was a fact. They had to win to stay alive in a very crowded and competitive tyke division.

I gave a pre-game pep talk that was short but energetic.

And as usual, the kids said the darndest things.

All season, we have instilled three core rules. Three axioms of the ice. Three things that come before all others.

1. Have fun. 2. Have fun. 3. Have fun.

So when I stood before 16 caged faces in that room at Kinoak Arena on Saturday morning and asked, “Who can tell me the first rule of playoff hockey?”, all 16 players put up their hands.

“Have fun!!!!”

OK, yes. Have fun. Can anyone tell me what is another rule of playoff hockey?

And again the arms shot up and again the answer was “Have fun!!!”

At this point, I started to laugh because I could see where it was going and that Dave had done a really good job drilling home the core values of the Blackhawks. That these kids remembered that seven minutes before taking the ice with their season on the line was pretty amazing to me.

So I asked everyone – everyone -- to tell me the third rule of playoff hockey and the room shook as the kids yelled: “Have fun!!!!!”

OK.

And having dispensed with that ritual I then got back on point, which was, in playoff hockey an unflinching commitment to defence is the top priority. In our zone, all five skaters are defencemen. And everyone comes all the way back to protect Noah, our goalie.

And I waved my arms and acted silly and made them laugh and threatened to scream like a little girl if they abdicated their commit to play defence.

And they hit the ice full of piss and vinegar and played incredibly disciplined hockey, from Charlie ripping a howitzer to open the game, to Jaden crashing the crease for a rebound to build the lead, to Justin burying the empty netter to seal Noah’s 3-0 shutout win.

It’s one thing to ask a bunch of tykes to do something.

It’s quite a special moment when they deliver like these guys did, every one of them.

The kids on the Thunder played their hearts out. And honestly, I thought they got jobbed by the refs on a couple of missed penalties. But that’s hockey and it was our turn for those breaks to go our way, I guess.

So with one playoff game left, the dream lives for 16 tyke Blackhawks, four coaches, and a bunch of parents.

Tyke hockey is the best. Have I said that lately?

- - -

For Chris and the bantam white Jets . . . not so much.

They lost their second straight playoff game Friday night, another one-goal loss.

It’s pretty tough to see a path to the finals from here, but the kids will keep battling, I’m sure.

It’s not over til it’s over.

- - -

Four years ago right this minute Pad was a member of the Oakville Rangers bantam single-A team. They were playing the Riverside Rangers from Windsor, Ont., in the OMHA semi finals.

And four years ago tomorrow, I published the following piece on the blog. As I have occasionally in the past, I’m reprinting it here now. It fills up space.

Also, the tykes put me in mind of it on Saturday.

I may not get to play games that matter any more, but I’m very lucky to have these 16 guys in my life letting me watch them ride the rocket through the playoffs with the fun and emotions that come with it.

From March 2007 – Games That Matter:

March 8, 2007

"Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight
And I'm going to drink till I get my fill
And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it
But I probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
A little of the glory of, well time slips away
And leaves you with nothing mister but
Boring stories of glory days"

-- Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days

This has been a fun week at the blog -- interesting emails from near and far and many, many people enjoying the rivalry that's popped up between the dueling Ranger bergs of Oakville and Riverside.

Starting Friday, the 13 and 14 year olds on those teams will resume their pursuit of a spot in the OMHA minor bantam A championship series. It is very, very hard to get to an OMHA final.

The teams have reached a point in the season where they are playing games that really matter. And I can assure them they won't soon forget them.

At their age, Rangers on both ends of the ice are immortal and the opportunities to play "games that really matter" seems boundless.

Every dad and more than a few moms at the rink will be able to confirm otherwise. You only get to play a certain number of "games that really matter" in your life, and for most of us that door closes pretty snuggly by the time you finish high school. But you'll never forget those games if you live to be 100.

I remember a few, even in bantam -- losing a best-of-five championship series in five games, three of which went to overtime (Halifax over East Hants, city over country. We were devastated, but that's a story for another day.)

Two kids on that team went to the OHL (one to the Windsor Spitfires, in fact!!). Another stayed in Nova Scotia and was eventually invited to the Montreal Canadiens training camp. I was a role player on a very good team but I'll never forget those friendships and the coach's bark and the highs and the lows and the life lessons that I didn't realize I was learning.

I ended up competing against kids on the Halifax team in other sports -- high school basketball, soccer, golf, whatever. We always shook hands because we knew each other from the rinks. It wasn't until later in life when I knew some of them better in university that I learned how much they respected our team. And how much they hated coming to our rink because while they knew they could win, they also knew they would have to pay a price. I found that an eye opener because that's exactly what we thought about them.

And we always talked about hockey. It always came back to hockey. And those games that I thought were just important to me? It turned out, even years later, they were really important to them too.

I hope the kids on both Ranger teams this weekend, and all kids playing games that really matter this weekend, understand a little bit of that around them now. These are glory days. And while you can't live in the moment, you can live for the moment, wild at heart.

And at 13, you absolutely live for a game that really matters. These games matter.

So, game on.

March 2, 2011

I went to pick up Pad at BTNL last night on my way home from work and he hopped in the car in a very good mood. He’s always in a good mood after training, and he’s always hungry too.

That’s another story.

So, he says to me – “Guess who I worked out with today?”

There are more than 30 million people in Canada, about a third of them in Ontario. So for a moment I considered listing names of everyone I could think of, but he’s bigger than me and I didn’t really think he’d find that funny.

So I said: “No clue. Who?”

Neven Pajkic.

Wow.

You mean the Neven Pajkic?

Full disclaimer: first, I’ve never heard of Neven Pajkic.

And Pad, who had just spent two hours working out with the guy, couldn’t actually remember his name.

So, instead of saying Neven Pajkic, he said: “Some big Russian guy who is the Canadian heavyweight boxing champion.”

Oh. OK, well that is kind of cool.

Except, as is often the case when dealing with teens, some of the facts were, um, foggy.

Like:

Pad didn’t remember his name. At all. (I had him text his PHd-candidate cousin who is literally writing the book on Canadian boxing. Or parts of it, at least.)

And also, he’s not a Russian. He’s from Sarajevo, which is in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Which means, world wars (literally) have started over lesser issues than confusing Bosnians (renowned the world over for their sense of humour) and Russians.

But, he is in fact a (not the) Canadian heavyweight champ – the NABA Canada champ, whatever that is. I could write 30,000 words on fragmented boxing crowns but – I won’t go there.

Suffice to say: he’s big, he boxes, he’s a champ, and my kid trained with him and another gym regular on Tuesday afternoon.

And he had a good time.

You can read more about Neven “No Surrender” Pajkic here.

- - -

Great nickname, huh?

Way better than “What Time’s My Pedicure” or “Medium Rare” or “Rickards Red” or a bunch of others I could come up with for me and a bunch of other hockey dads.

- - -

Last boxing thing: buy me a beer sometime and ask me for my Trevor Berbick story.

It’s a good one.

Plus, he’s dead now so he can’t contradict a word of it. Well, not easily at least.

- - -

As you can tell, it’s still slow.

So, with that in mind I present:

The launch of the space shuttle Discovery as seen from an airplane, a really long way away.

March 1, 2011

Every so often I have a day where I can think of nothing to say. No witty story or anecdote from the rink or home front.

This is one of those days.

- - -

Trade deadline day was a complete and utter bore, not unlike what you’re reading now except with more millionaires.

So instead of sitting at home listening to the talking heads on TSN and Sportsnet yap about the great significance of Radek Dvorak being traded to Atlanta, I got behind the wheel and I drove.

I drove Pad from home to the western edge of Etobicoke for a team dinner and then . . . I drove home.

I drove to Blockbuster and returned a movie. I drove to the Beer Store to return a 24 of empty bottles.

I puttered for 35 minutes at home.

And then I drove.

I drove back to the western edge of Etobicoke to retrieve Pad from the team dinner. I arrived a little too early and sat quietly and listened to coaches’ speeches.

And when that was done, I drove home from the western edge of Etoicoke back home in time to wake Laura who was asleep in front of Peter Mansbridge. He was talking a lot, so I don’t think he even knew she was there.

Laura – mom, as the boys call her – was pretty bagged after having a couple of meetings in the morning that required a long drive to and fro. Then she had a big freelance project that someone in New York was yelling for so she had to get that done while I was driving back and forth and back and forth across the 403.

When I came home we settled in to a wholesome late evening meal of Pad Thai in front of the TV, watching an episode of House and hoping the pace for the rest of the week would be different from Monday.

And we were selfishly wrapped up in our spin on the wheel in the cage of life, eating Pad Thai, watching House miraculously diagnose another obscure disease, and discussing how soon we can get Pad into driving instruction to finish off his driving prep and get his damn G2.

Somewhere on lonely bus on the I95 north, Radek Dvorak was contemplating how he would unload his Miami condo in the ravaged south Florida real estate market, and wondered what life would be like in Atlanta.

And trade day ended. Not with a whimper, but with Pad Thai.