hockey blog may10

Nov 26, 2010

It’s my kid brother’s birthday today. Back in Nova Scotia they’ll be holding parade’s and galas, I’m sure. Have a great day.

- - -

This week has been a bit of a blur, but I’m mildly hopeful things will find a better pace in the days ahead. Given that this is the last Friday of November and we’re about to be full-on into Christmas season, I’m not sure what form normal is going to take.

But, onward.

- - -

It’s the weekend. Almost.

And weekends mean hockey.

Have you ever watched someone like Sidney Crosby shoot a puck while skating at full speed and yet somehow he manages to hit the only three-inch hole available? Have you ever wondered if that’s as much luck as it is skill?

There’s a reason he makes millions of dollars a year to play hockey and you don't.

Watch this.

- - -

It’s the American Thanksgiving Weekend, which according to US mythology is a time for families to gather in front of the fire and politely clink glasses and all of that.

But the reality, as reflected by numerous books, movies, and TV shows (see Trains, Planes and Automobiles as just one example) is much harsher.

Families stressed out by trying to create the perfect holiday weekend often end up sliding into a spiral of petty, alcohol-fuelled arguments and general dysfunction.

What’s my point? Good question.

I’m going to point you to a web site. And be warned. Once you dive into this web site you will be trapped. You will click and scroll and click and scroll. You may get fired because you will lose interest in working.

And you will laugh.

The site is a showcase for awkward family photos – hence the name, awkwardfamilyphotos.com .

It is the high temple of “what were we thinking?”

Every family has more than its share of truly bad photos. Bad prom dresses and unfortunate tuxedos. Hair styles that didn’t stand the test of time. Mullets. Short shorts. On men.

It goes on and on.

Maybe it’s just a reflection of my own obsession with the twisted and miserable that I enjoy this site so much.

Happy American Thanksgiving, everyone. Click here to enjoy the show.

- - -

American Thanksgiving means football.

In this clip, it means American high school football and the trick play to end all trick plays.

After you watch the clip, you can click here to read more about it.

And if you’re a real football geek, read the comments below the story where the matter of the legality of the play is debated, as well as the coach’s motives in all this. Even if you're not a football fan, this one is worth 45 seconds of your time.

It’s fun to watch people eat each other alive!

- - -

Root canals.

Multiple knee surgeries.

Growing up Catholic.

And dealing with the boards at River Oaks for the Initiation Program Timbits.

Yes, this a short list of the burdens I have had to face, endure and overcome in my life.

To varying degrees the first three are works in progress.

But those boards at River Oaks?

I had two stints dealing with them and on both occasions I was quite thrilled to see the end of them.

For this year, MOHA has replaced the old portable boards – which, once erected would create three mini-rinks on the large ice at River Oaks. And they have replaced them with a lightweight and entirely sensible system of low rise dividers that achieve exactly the same purpose, but without the pain and humiliation of the old-style boards.

The new system is portrayed below courtesy of a lame photo I took on my Blackberry whilst hanging around the rink for no apparent reason.

I need a life.

- - -

This letter made the rounds a few months ago and it's not a hoax.

This is a copy of the actual letter that then-Leafs boss Punch Imlach sent to forward Jim Pappin prior to training camp in 1962.

The rigour of the planning and preparation is apparent. What with the insistence on bringing golf clubs.

Man, have times changed.

- - -

OK.

I said there would be words, photos, and video. And there is. I didn't say it would entertaining.

Lots of hockey for us this weekend and if you're lucky, for you too.

If you're driving around Glen Abbey on Sunday look up. Look way up. That will be me on the roof swearing at the Christmas lights and scaring the local children.

The weather has taken a turn toward winter so watch out for the icy spots. Slow down. Leave early for the games.

Enjoy the weekend.

Hug the kids.

Nov 25, 2010

I will return tomorrow with an end-of-week update that I promise will have words, images and video.

It will be blog-tastic!

Or not.

Busy week. Way busier than yours or you wouldn't be poking around here.

Right? Right?

Yeah, you can't argue with that logic..

Manana.

Nov 23, 2010

The pulse of our house is demanding, but somewhat predictable. So in theory, knowing what to expect offsets the never-ending list of things to do, places to go, etc.

So, for example, on a Monday afternoon at 3:30p, don’t bother letting your mind drift off for a second to think that maybe you’re looking forward to kicking back, watching the Leafs, enjoying a nice meal, or whatever, in a few hours.

No, my end of the bargain is to get home a little earlier than normal on Monday – say, 6:45p or so – enjoy a restful 11 minutes (while changing my clothes) and then immediately head out the door with Pad to a hockey practice that starts at 8p and is supposed to end at 9:30p but never wraps up until just before 10p. Generally that will get me back home again by about 10:40p or so, after which the rest of the evening is mine to enjoy.

Last night a new wrinkle was tossed into the routine.

I was watching the team do their drills and I was chatting with the only other dad present.

When I looked up, my kid was gone.

Hmmm. Did he fall through the ice? If he got hurt I missed it.

The trainer was attending to someone on the bench, so I didn’t suspect he was injured. Maybe he snapped a skate lace and returned to the room?

The answer arrived by text message minutes later: “I snapped a skate blade. I’m done for the night.”

At this point as a parent you experience what I’ll call the Homer Simpson ricocheting emotive scale of response:

Woo Hoo! I get to go home early!
D’oh! Wait a minute, those skates are only three months old and he snapped a blade? What’s this going to cost?
Woo hoo! I get to go home!
D’oh! Wait a minute – he has a game Tuesday night. Which means we need to get this fixed ASAP.
Maybe I get to go home?
D’oh! Corbett’s is closed. What’s the number for Pro Hockey Life? When do they close?

On and on.

Corbett’s was indeed closed. Pro Hockey Life was closing in 15 minutes and was 20 minutes away.

We enlisted mom to make some calls. Pro Hockey Life had the blades in stock and put them on hold – but that was going to mean mom would have to drive to Mississauga Heartland on Tuesday (today), which we’ll say is “less than ideal.”

Turning off the QEW at 9:05p, I said to Pad, “Do you suppose National Sports is still open?”

They have a pretty decent pro shop there. Who knows?

We wheeled into the lot and yes indeed, they were open. Even better, they had replacement blades for the Bauer Total One ~~Mortgage Payment~~ Skate.

So, in the end we didn’t get home a whole lot earlier but we did get the skate fixed and really, what else was I going to do with that $100? Plus we saved Laura a trip to north Mississauga, so that’s worth something.

This was less than 48 hours after buying him a new set of shoulder pads (“the shoulder caps are cracked, dad.” Tell me – who cracks the shoulder caps, on both sides, of shoulder pads? What kind of kid have I raised?) and new compression shorts.

It sounds like I’m whining but really I’m not. It was actually kind of fun and as I’ve said on more than one occasion, I’m gonna miss it a lot when the sun comes down on this chapter.

Right now the sun is still high in the sky. Thankfully.

- - -

Friday night was an adventure too. The good news is that Chris has started to speak to his mother again, albeit mostly in monosyllabic grunts.

I was supposed to attend a corporate event Friday night, meaning I would miss both Chris’s and Pad’s games – Chris at 6:30p, Pad at 7:30p.

But I got trapped in the office and by 8:15p I had given up hope on the corporate dinner and hockey and made my way to the train to head home. It occurred to me that I might get to Milton in time to see the final period of Pad’s game, with any luck at all.

Turns out luck was in short supply on Friday night.

Chris’s bantam team rallied for a 2-2 draw in its game, but the apparent family highlight was mom thinking the game was at 7:30p and showing up an hour late. So, Chris only got to play the third period and was not at all happy, hence the whole “not talking to mom” thing. There’s about 1,000 words of detail around this episode, but I think it best to say mistakes were made, management regrets the error.

Meanwhile, back on the GO train, I had resolved to go to Milton.

I was actually on Upper Middle Road stopped at a light when Laura texted me.

“If you’re on your way here, don’t bother. Patrick was just in a fight and got kicked out. Go home.”

Hmm. Perhaps that’s how the shoulder pads get cracked? Whatever.

OK. I will go home.

And I did – missing the three-goal rally, overtime and shootout.

Oh well.

- - -

Saturday morning found us back at a rink at 8a for another bantam game (as Chris said, “are you sure it’s at 8 am?), strategically located at Oakville Arena, or, the Epicentre for the Oakville Santa Claus parade activity.

(Note to MOHA – having games at Oakville Arena on the morning of the Santa Claus parade is a bad idea. Just sayin’.)

Chris’s team scored with less than a minute left to win 3-2, leaving me with almost a full 30 minutes of down time between his game and the Tyke Blackhawks game.

As usual, the tyke game was a weekend highlight – we were down two goals for most of the game but the guys battled back hard and, with the goalie on the bench in the final minute, we tied the game 6-6. It was a barn burner.

Then it was home for lunch, then taking Chris to Joshua Creek for timekeeping, then Pad played Saturday night.

Sunday morning the tyke’s had a pizza party and mini-stick thing at River Oaks.

I have to say, the role of non-parent coach on a house league tyke hockey team at a pizza party is quite liberating. On the ice and on the bench, a coach has 16 kids. But at the team party? That’s not my kid with the pepperoni in his ear.

And it’s not my kid with the split lip, and it’s not my kid who just got smacked in the head with a mini-stick. I’ve been there, done that, and yes – I have the t-shirt.

And the best part is that at the appropriate moment I get to . . . just . . . walk . . . away. And I get to leave the pizza and chocolate-crazed tykes to create havoc with parents and siblings for the rest of the day, pulling down the walls of their houses and whatnot, and really, isn’t that what tyke hockey is all about?

- - -

“Oz never did give nothin’ to the tin man,

That he didn’t, didn’t already have.”

From Tin Man, Bunnel/Dewey

Like many of you, we have a bin of hockey and lacrosse gear in the basement – skates, cleats, gloves, shin pads, almost everything. The only thing preventing us from just donating the whole thing to MOHA or whomever is that we’re still a fairly active supplier to the neighbourhood. We get frantic emails – do you have a pair of gloves for so-and-so? Or shin pads. Or pants. Whatever.

We are almost always able to fill the order and our rates are quite competitive.

Such a plea came in yesterday from a long-time friend looking for hockey pants. As fate would have it, not only did we have pants to fit the lanky boy – a minor midget house leaguer, I think – but they were Oakville Ranger pants, and they are practically brand new –Pad having only worn them for a few games at the end of his final Ranger season before defecting to the GTHL.

The mom of the player in question is a bit of a fan of Patrick’s – she’s followed him from house league to rep to GTHL to junior. When his team played the Blades at Sixteen Mile Rec Centre, she was there.

She told her son – also a defenceman -- that maybe Patrick’s pants would be good luck for him. Reports are he played a strong game.

After the game his mother – who passed on the exchange to Laura – said her son told her that he had a responsibility to play well in Patrick’s gear. I thought that was a very nice thing for him to say. My guess is that he plays well a lot more often than maybe he knows -- regardless of where the pants came from.

I think I’d also say that his only responsibility was to work hard for his team and have fun – and that’s always easier when you play well.

Especially in our town in Ranger red.

Nov 19, 2010

Have you ever noticed how the Toronto Raptors have this knack for bringing in top-notch young talent, tricking the city into falling in love with them, and then letting things unravel hopelessly until that there’s nothing left but bad feelings?

Damon Stoudamire? 1996 NBA rookie of the year. Wore out his welcome after three years.

Vince Carter? Good God. Do I even have to talk about that one?

Jalen Rose? He made $18 million in his final season as a Raptor. W. T. F?

Hedo Turkoglu? Probably not a perfect fit with my thesis, but . . . a huge, expensive disappointment nonetheless.

And of course, Chris Bosh.

I’m not sure how it all went so wrong with Bosh, but it did.

And thanks to my friend Dave, who forwarded me this video, you can marvel at all that never was for Chris. It’s pretty funny.

If it wilts under pressure and doesn't meet expectations?

Oh? Like a Bosh?

TBJ exclusive: Like A Bosh from The Basketball Jones on Vimeo.

- - -

As long as we’re on the topic of funny stuff, I have to confess that I didn’t realize Jimmy Fallon wasn’t a comedian. That would explain why he’s not very funny.

No, he’s an impersonator.

I thought impersonators went out of style in 1974 with Rich Little, but I guess I was wrong.

It turns out that Fallon is a much, much better impersonator than he is comic. And in fact, he does a devastatingly good impersonation of one of my icons, Neil Young.

But what Fallon does to make it funny – because Neil Young isn’t exactly slapstick – is that he takes bad pop songs and performs them as Neil Young.

So for example, you may or may not have heard of Willow Smith. She’s actor Will Smith’s little girl. And if her dad wasn’t the biggest drawing action movie actor of the last decade, she’d be just another annoying runt at the back of some suburban after-school modern dance class.

But, the fact is she IS Will Smith’s kid. So she gets to sing and record songs and one of them – Whip My Hair – is climbing the pop charts and may be one of the most annoying pieces of pop culture to be vomited up since Milly Vanilli.

So, earlier this week, Fallon dressed up as Neil Young and performed Whip My Hair in full character. And Bruce Springsteen joined him on stage to sing backup and harmonies. And The Boss dressed in garb from his late 1970s period, which added to the overall silliness of the skit.

Two things are worth mentioning here.

First, Fallon is a drop-dead-ring-ding-dinger for Neil Young.

Second, this version of Whip My Hair is better than anything Willow Smith’s computer enhanced and edited voice could spit out.

As we like to say around here, just press play. (I’ve also included the video of the Willow Smith version, just so you can get a flavour of how brilliant the Fallon-Springsteen parody is.)

Willow Smith (ugh(:

- - -

Speaking of parody, the Leafs continued to impersonate a hockey team last night, beating the still-woeful Devils 3-1.

As winning streaks go, two in a row is modest. But it beats the alternative.

Read more here.

- - -

If you are a hockey fan you are no doubt aware of the circumstances around the death of Ottawa Senators assistant coach (and former Leaf) Luke Richardson’s 14-year-old daughter.

If you are a parent, then a part of your heart breaks every time your hear of a teenager taking their own life.

The Richardsons made a decision to let the public in on their mourning, in an effort to shine a light on the issue of teen suicide. It was an very difficult and brave thing to do and if it spares just one family the pain of what they’re going through now, it will be worth it.

A friend of mine went through this a couple of years ago. I can’t begin to describe the heartache, and the devastation that followed for the family.

Read the stories. Learn. Talk to your kids.

Really, really talk to them. And really, really listen.

Listen a lot.

Click here for more.

- - -

All hockey, all weekend.

I have a corporate thingy tonight so I’m missing two (2) games and that has me a bit grumpy.

The good (??) news is that Chris plays again at 8a tomorrow morning – the league apparently feeling that the bantam whites were short-changed on games so they’re putting his team back on the ice barely 12 hours after their Friday night game ends.

Anyway, it’s hockey. It’s good.

Then the tykes play at 10a, then junior hockey again Saturday night, then Sunday brings a tyke team mini-stick ~~skull cleaving session~~ and pizza party.

Soak up the fun weekend stuff with your kids. Spare a moment to consider how lucky your are to be this busy with your kids, and remember the Richardson family in Ottawa.

Hug the kids.

Nov 17, 2010

I didn’t blog yesterday because I was saving all my energy to focus good thoughts on the Leafs, and Lord knows they need all the help they can get.

Because I had to pick up Pad at BTNL and then go to Chris’s practice there was a lapse there in the first period where I wasn’t as focused on the game as I should be and – poof – the Leafs were down 3-0.

The good news is we got home from Kinoak in time to see them complete the comeback and take a lead and then hold it.

We won’t plan any parades. We won’t even joke about it anymore.

But if you want to read about the end of the Losing Streak, you can try this link.

- - -

A snapshot of my day:

After dashing to BTNL and then dropping Pad at home I race to Kinoak. It’s pouring rain. Buckets.

I park and sprint to the door.

D’oh.

The side door – the usual entrance -- is fenced off because of the never-ending construction project there.

So, I run around to the front door. I get very, very wet. Ugh. It doesn’t sound like a big deal but trust me. At the time, in the rain, it was.

Sidebar whine: I bet there’s a really compelling reason why the construction work at Kinoak couldn’t have been done, say, between the end of March and the first of October.

During that time the rink was used as an indoor skateboard park.

- - -

Right now – on Nov 17 – Montreal Canadiens management are looking pretty brilliant for offloading playoff hero Jaroslav Halak and going with Carey Price as their No. 1 goaltender (“for now” as they say in hockey circles.)

Price sports a sizzling .930 save percentage, a 2.05 GAA and is tied for the league lead with 11 wins. Sainthood is imminent.

Meanwhile, Halak (already beatified last April) hasn’t cooled off either from his spring heroics, with numbers almost as good as Price on a team that’s arguably not as good.

He has a .918 save percentage, a GAA of 2.12 and has notched eight wins.

So far, it’s win-win for both teams in this deal.

So far.

- - -

iPhone/iTouch users take note:

The New York Times’ tech geek recommends the top apps for your device.

Click here.

- - -

The blogosphere was all a-twitter (pun entirely intended) about Apple’s iTunes store finally striking a deal with the other Apple – Apple Corps Inc., the business end of a noted 1960s musical quartet known as The Beatles.

Chris was very excited about this news for some reason, even though we have pretty much every Fab Four album on CD at home already, so really there’s no reason to give Steve Jobs more of my money.

But many will. The rich get richer.

Headline writers get to write pun-riddled headlines.

Ob-la-di ob-la-da, life goes on.

Read more here.

- - -

Back in my home sod of Nova Scotia, folks have long memories.

On Dec 6, 1917, Halifax was literally flattened by the Halifax Explosion – the result of a collision involving a munitions ship in the harbour that killed more than 2,000 people. Nearly a century later it remains the largest man-made non-nuclear explosion in the planet’s history.

The people of New England were among the first, fastest and most generous responders to that crisis, which was compounded by a blizzard the day after the blast.

Nova Scotians – many of whom have relatives in “the Boston States” – have never forgotten that compassion and generosity in a time of grave need.

Every year, Nova Scotia sends a giant Christmas tree to Boston to be erected and decorated on Boston Common as a small gesture of thanks.

Yesterday, this year’s version of that tree started the trek to Boston.

Read more here.

- - -

We’ll close with a laugh.

Windows is making the case that its Windows Phone enriches the wireless online experience to such a degree that you will apparently be mesmerized.

I’m not sure that’s exactly true, but I suppose it’s possible.

In the meantime though, they have come up with a pretty nifty ad campaign – if the platform isn’t a hit, the ad certainly is.

Really?

Really.

As always, just press play. Happy hump day.

Nov 15, 2010

It’s Monday.

It’s raining.

I’m busy.

You’re bored.

I don’t see any possible way for you to leave here happy today.

Sorry.

- - -

Sooner or later the Leafs will win another hockey game. It’s inevitable.

But until that time the pressure will continue to build and people will posit the argument that Ron Wilson’s tenure as coach of the Leafs has been an unmitigated disaster.

He’s into his third season behind the bench and the Leafs can still boast that they haven’t won – heck, they haven’t played – a playoff game since George W. Bush was in his FIRST term as president. Since Patrick played peewee AE.

Since before I wrote a blog (and it will be five years of blogging in less than a month.)

Since . . . never mind. It’s just been a really long time.

Given that Wilson and Leaf GM Brian Burke are long-time friends is going to complicate matters considerably, unless someone on the Leafs – anyone, please! – is able to conjure the spirit of Bill Barilko and do something heroic, and soon.

My dad is a Leaf fan too, but not so much of a fan that he doesn’t enjoy asking me when Wilson is going to get fired.

I’m not sure it’s Wilson’s fault – the Leafs are woefully talentless with the exception of five or six guys – Kessel, Kaberle, Komisarek and . . . OK. Three guys (with apologies to Versteeg, Beauchemin and Luke Schenn, none of whose names start with “K”).

I mean let’s face it. We’re not going to be looking to Luca Caputi and Michael Zigomanis and Korbinian Holzer to lead us in the parade, are we?

So, is it Burke’s fault? He signs the players that Wilson has to coach. He trades the draft picks for players whose names start with “K”.

When asked about Wilson, Burke has been known to get testy and ask – rhetorically, mind you – if his interlocutor of the moment believes that Wilson has forgot how to coach.

Maybe, maybe not.

But you can’t coach guys who aren’t listening.

- - -

Interesting piece in the Globe today on NHL stats – and not the stats you read in the papers.

The Globe asks if you know that last year, through December, in games worked by one veteran NHL ref, the visiting team was an astonishing 17-3?

Interesting insight – and information you’re not likely to hear on an NHL broadcast.

Read more here.

- - -

I should say that Chris and the Jets won again. And the Tykes lost a heartbreaker but everyone went home smiling. Even me.

- - -

So, late Sunday afternoon the boys and me are home alone.

Chalk it up to bad parenting, but I learned last week that neither of my kids had ever seen the 1990s Will Smith action movie Independence Day.

In my house, the gentlemen enjoy an action movie. And Independence Day, with Bill Pullman as a fighter jet flying president and Will Smith as the saucy young officer, has lots of action, especially if you prefer your invading aliens scrambled, not over easy.

So, I ambled to the video store – which I’m guessing won’t be there much longer and thus affording the Monastery Bakey another expansion opportunity – in search of Independence Day.

Incredibly, not only did they not have it, they don’t even stock it.

The young clerk, wise beyond his fuzzy-faced years – concurred that this was a heinous oversight and we shared a lament.

So, what to do?

Both my boys have watched every second of Band of Brothers and The Pacific – sweeping WW2 epic series.

So when I texted the bad news about Independence Day, only seconds passed before Selection 2 came back:

“What about Saving Private Ryan?”

OK. Good idea only days after Nov 11^th.

Blockbuster did actually stock this one. But it was out.

Hmmm.

Now what?

Chris asked if there was any other good war movie that I thought they might like.

I suggested “The Carebears Kill the Nazis” but he wasn’t amused.

“I said ‘good’ not disturbing.”

So then, sitting on the shelf right in front of me, was the Clint Eastwood-directed film Flags of Our Fathers, which is about the story behind the raising of the US flag on Iwo Jima, the iconic photo, and how it changed the lives of those who survived the battle.

Not exactly a Canadian story, but still a good one.

And we watched it front to back and I can only imagine what my boys think watching stuff like that. It was a horrendous waste of life, as all war surely is.

Horrible things happen to soldiers in Afghanistan, for sure.

The difference today is that we’re not actually at war with Afghanistan. We’re at war with stateless extremists and it’s a whole new challenge. I suspect it will never end.

Tom Brokaw famously called the men and women who fought the Second World War -- and those who built the planes and ships, and repaired them to keep supplies moving, and did all the other things in a true fight for freedom and democracy -- “the greatest generation.”

He’ll get no quarrel from me on that point and hopefully my boys, by watching the work of filmmakers like Eastwood and Spielberg among others, will have learned a bit about all that too.

And so a dreary, wet, grey afternoon under leaden November skies was going to be spent, in part, in the mindless enjoyment of a Hollywood action movie. Instead it turned into a sort of act of remembrance that honestly left us all speechless at the end, such that no one even moved to turned off the film as the credits rolled on and on.

It was time well spent

Nov 12, 2010

I have to keep it short and sweet today – well, short at least.

Chris and I did make it to the Raptors’ game on Wednesday night and while the home side lost – sort of a routine happenstance for MLSE – we still had a good time.

There was no sign of Michael Jordan that we could see – if I was him I’d hide too.

We ate pizza and popcorn, had a couple of cokes and cheered for the home team who were in it right to the bitter end.

Chris noted that the Raptors Dance Pack – which used to include male dancers among its number – is now an all-female entourage.

Father and son agreed that this was a positive development.

- - -

And impossibly busy Friday evening ahead.

The bantam Jets play at 5:30p and Pad is in Orangeville tonight for a 7:30p start, meaning he has to be there at 6p. So, something has to give.

We’ll figure it out.

The O-ville road game means we won’t likely be home until after midnight, so I’ll be taking my dinner in one of that town’s finer dining establishments.

Tykes tomorrow, another junior game tomorrow night and what looks like a hockey-free Sunday at this point.

- - -

Have you seen the new MOHA calendars?

The minor hockey association issues a calendar (or is it two?) with two coupons to every registered player. The player can sell the calendar(s) to offset registration (I’ve never actually heard of anyone doing that, but I’m sure some do) or keep it and the coupons for himself.

Once filled out, the coupons are entered in a monthly draw for cash prizes at the MOHA offices. Many teams fill out the coupons in the name of a coach or their team and any funds won flow directly to the team for parties, tournament fees, airplane leases, etc.

Anyway, this year’s version of the calendar is a real looker, featuring a full-color cover marking the association’s 50^th anniversary by featuring four Oakville hockey alumni who made it to the NHL: former New York Ranger captain Vic Hadfield; former Tampa Bay Lightning (and 1998 Team Canada Olympian) Rob Zamuner; Edmonton Oiler Sam Gagner; and Columbus Blue Jacket Steve Mason.

I’m sure it cost a few more dollars to do this version of the calendar but it looks like money well spent to me.

- - -

I gotta run.

Try and get out this weekend and see a hockey game. I can assure you there's no shortage of games being played in a rink near you. I expect to some or all of about eight games.

Take it easy on the roads.

Hug the kids.

Nov 11, 2010

If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

-- Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

Remember.

- - -

You don’t need me to tell you what today is.

As a kid growing up in Nova Scotia, today was always a holiday. The schools were closed. Everything was closed. It still is a holiday – there.

That may be because that part of the country was actually a war zone during the Second World War – German U-boats stalked Allied convoys leaving Halifax; they crept about the Gulf of St. Lawrence and off Newfoundland.

Halifax was the last place most Canadian servicemen (and women) saw before boarding a ship for Europe and it was the first place they saw when they came home.

That made for challenging times for the local constabulary – often realizing that the young drunken men they were rounding up were letting off steam, either from the coming or the going or the things that happened in between.

I won’t go on at length today but I will point you to a couple of things.

The first is an interactive digital project by an innovative company called Openfile.

They have created a map of Toronto – really, it’s Toronto as it would have looked in 1945, the city now bordered by the 427 on the west, the Don Valley Parkway on the east and the 401 across the top.

They have placed a poppy at every address in the old city to mark the home of someone who died in the Second World War.

Visually, it is a jaw-dropping moment of enlightenment. We know thousands of Canadian died overseas, but this map brings staggering context to the dimensions of that loss. It is almost beyond comprehension.

Below is a screen-grab of what that map looks like. If you click on the image it will take to the site where you should take some time and click on some poppies and see the names of the people who died for the freedom of their country and its people. (You will need to scroll down the page to see the map.)

- - -

The second thing I want you to look at is a music video by The Dropkick Murphys -- a raucous band with a great name.

There's nothing raucous about this song, The Greenfields of France, but it's well worth four minutes of your day to listen to it and appreciate the message within.

In Flanders Fields was probably the main way that the act of Remembering was presented to my generation, and the one before that, and the one after it. But things like this song will reach far more kids today and cause them, I hope, to pause and think and be grateful for what we have.

Whether it's a PS3 or a carbon-fibre hockey stick, or the right to live in peace, everything has a price.

- - -

And we'll go back to Nova Scotia for the final recommendation on this day.

Terry Kelly is a remarkable Nova Scotia musician. I -- and countless others -- have enjoyed his rollicking, table-thumping brand of folk and pub music for longer than we care to remember. Whether during a university beer hall, or at a Halifax pub, or in my case once even at a kitchen party, Terry Kelly's music was a part of the soundtrack of coming of age in Nova Scotia.

Kelly is remarkable for a number of reasons -- he is an elite musician and athlete. He's also blind, which has never much held him back so far as I know.

Anyway, he was standing in a drugstore in Nova Scotia on Nov 11, 1999, when the store announced it was 11a and asked patrons to observe -- with staff -- two minutes of silence.

Everyone stood in silence, except for one man and his child. Terry Kelly was not impressed with the example the father set for his child. And that experience led to the song A Pittance of Time. You can read more about the song here.

Below, if you can spare five more minutes, you can view Terry performing this tribute to Canada's war dead.

Remember.

Nov 10, 2010

Last night was a night off, of sorts. Call it Scenes From an Italian Restaurant, Glen Abbey Style . . .

Laura had a dentist appointment so she took Chris to his practice.

My intention was to go directly from the train to Kinoak to watch at least some of his workout and then bring him home.

But, the now-healthy other son was banging the plates around at BTNL so I needed to whip over there and pick him up first.

And then of course, he needed to be fed.

Got through the door at about 7:25p. Turned on the BBQ, ran upstairs and changed. Came back down, threw some lamb chops (that his mom had lovingly readied for cooking) on the grill and turned on the water for Minute Rice.

Went to family room to check Leaf game. Bad idea.

Back out to BBQ. Flip the chops.

Water for rice on the boil, dump in the rice.

It’s now about 7:45p.

Get out plate, knife and fork, pour milk. Run to BBQ and check the chops. It’s almost a “go.”

Take lid off the rice, mix in some butter, stir.

Run back to family room. Still a bad idea.

Run outside and get lamp chops, turn off grill.

Dump rice in bowl. Deposit everything in front of Pad and hope he doesn’t bite my arm.

7:48p.

Grab keys and wallet, drive to Kinoak. Jets are already off the ice.

Chris comes out, smiling and makes my day.

He asks me how I am.

“Me? Great. Just hanging out. Everything is good.”

- - -

The NHL is looking at a new selection process for the NHL All-Star Game. Fans would vote to select the six starters for each conference, and then the captains would pick the remainder of their team, schoolyard style, in a televised event.

The captains would have to pick from a league-approved pool of players. So, there appears little chance that a captain could, say, pick me with a wild card 22^nd pick.

Oh well.

The idea is to generate some interest, perhaps even excitement, in and around the All Star game, which does absolutely nothing for the average fan.

I like hockey so I wish them good luck. The all star game is as exciting as opening an envelope of toe nail clippings.

It’s an interesting idea (letting the captains pick the teams, not the clippings) and it’s not going to help.

Read more here.

- - -

Music fans, pay heed.

There’s an interesting project under way at Warner Music to sift through about 100,000 boxes of archived material and unearth long forgotten photos and documents from the music publisher’s storied history.

That history has a lineage going all the way back to 1811 and Beethoven – rumour is that when on the road he demanded three bowls of M&Ms in his dressing room with the candies sorted by colour) – so as you can imagine, it’s no small undertaking and it’s turning up some really nifty old photos, especially from the great jazz era and rock’s golden age in the 1960s.

You can read more on the project here.

And you can see a related slideshow here.

- - -

Sadly, I actually was awake on Monday night (Tuesday morning, actually) for the start of Conan O’Brien’s new show. I didn’t stay with it long before turning off the TV.

The boys PVR’d the thing and I watched the opening sequence last night and it was pretty funny. I’d show it to you, but I can’t find it on line in a format I can imbed here.

I’d tell you about it, but explaining a funny video clip in text seems like a weird form of entertainment reverse engineering which will only end poorly, with me saying “maybe you had to see it.”

So let’s just go with that.

It was funny. But you had to see it.

In the meantime, an ad that O’Brien did in advance of the new show with American Express IS online and IS funny.

So, you can watch that instead. If you care. Which I acknowledge you might not.

Roll the tape.

- - -

Because someone game me tickets, Chris and I and a friend of his are off to see the Raptors tonight.

Many of you may not know this, but Toronto has an NBA team and they’re called the “Raptors.” They play at the Air Canada Centre, and tonight they play the Charlotte Bobcats. They win less than the Leafs.

Charlotte is owned by Michael Jordan – he was a famous player about 10 years ago. Maybe you’ve heard of him.

Under ordinary circumstances if the Toronto Raptors were scrimmaging across the street in my neighbour’s driveway I wouldn’t walk over to watch. I played a lot of basketball as a kid and in high school, but the sho-biz stuff around the NBA leaves me cold.

But, it’s the NBA – BIG TIME! -- and it’s a night out with Chris at the ACC and there’s only so many places in Toronto where I can spend $10 on popcorn and $12 for a slice of pizza and not have to watch a movie.

I’m looking forward to it though because Chris is a great guy to spend a night on the town with and we’ll have some laughs for sure.

Admittedly this creates some havoc for mom who has to get Pad to and from practice, not to mention getting Chris and his friend downtown. Sorry for that.

But we thank her for her participation in this event.

Enjoy your day, with or without Michael Jordan!

Nov 9, 2010

I’ve had a little bit of a hockey reawakening this season.

I give a lot of credit for that to the Tyke team that I’m lucky enough to be a part of every Saturday (and impossible-to-make late afternoon weekday practices when I can get there.)

I bore my family and friends with little things from the games that capture the essence of the experience for me, and sometimes I bore you with those too.

Standing in the dressing room seconds before they hit the ice, the team does a cheer and then they go get ‘em. It sounds trite, but it really is a privilege to be a part of that experience. There's not a guy there who isn't enjoying the highlight of his week. I never forget that.

They just love to play the game.

That experience in turn has opened my eyes more to the games of my boys.

Chris loves hockey. That’s not too strong a word, either. As a house league bantam he gets one game a week and one practice -- the same as the Tykes. And just like them, he can’t wait to get on the ice with his friends. As the younger sibling Chris has learned the game while in the long shadow of his brother – but this season I sense that’s not so much the case anymore. He’s making bigger and more important contributions to his team this year than every before, and that only makes the games more fun, which in turn makes the anticipation of the games more electric. His teammates expect him to do certain things now. He’s not a passenger on his team and he knows it.

It’s cool for us as parents to know he still gets excited to play and compete, now perhaps more than ever, and we encourage him to push himself. The kids on his team are a terrific group of kids – I can’t say enough about them. I thought bantam house league would have the most baggage and internal rivalry but it’s just the opposite. The way they support each other is truly something. They range in skills all over the map, it being house league white. But they share an important, unshakeable characteristic.

They just love to play the game.

And there’s Pad, who gave up his final year of midget to take a shot at junior A. We warned him that as a rookie he would sit more than play; as a AAA midget he was promised a captaincy and all the ice he could take.

It didn’t matter. He wanted to play junior and he literally gave up a summer to make it happen.

It’s not minor hockey. There’s no fixed playing structure.

He was a healthy scratch for his very first game – the home opener. He never complained, but we knew it stung.

My only advice was that when the opportunity came, make yourself indispensible. Make it tough for them to not dress you. You’re a six-foot four-inch, 200 pound defenceman. So, BE that guy.

He dressed for the next game. And the next. He dressed for 19 games in a row and got more and more icetime before a suspension – in part because he was BEING that guy – and an injury sidelined him for two games last weekend and kept him away from two practices.

The idle time drove him, and us, nuts.

Last night after eight days on the shelf he was cleared to skate at practice.

And again, I got to see things with fresh eyes.

He hit the ice with more enthusiasm than you would expect at an 8p Monday night practice in November. And when the 90-minute workout ended there was no one on after the team so the boys – men, really – lingered. The Zamboni guy was nowhere in sight. It was free ice.

Some guys paired off in one-on-one battle drills of keepaway.

A couple of others dropped the gloves and playfully sparred.

At either end of the rink, one group lined up for a “showdown” contest with a goalie and the other group played a form of “shootaround” where a player shoots at the goalie from the low slot until he scores and teammates lined up on either side pounced on rebounds, intent only on making the goalie as miserable as possible.

The building shook with laughter and shouts and silliness and an occasional four-letter word.

Just like those tykes on Saturday mornings and the bantams on Friday nights, it was just pure joy for the game – in this instance on exhibit only for two coaches, four or five dads and a Zamboni driver in no particular hurry.

They just love to play to play the game.

Slowly the players skated off to shower but my guy was among the last, chased off almost literally by the Zamboni.

It was almost 10p. I was cold. I hadn’t had dinner. I had been up since 6a. And I didn’t have the heart to even attempt to wave him off the ice.

When he disappeared into the room with the team I went to the car and turned up the heat as far as it would go and tried to thaw out.

Later I watched him burst through the doors to the outside, bag over one shoulder, sticks in the other hand, and an unmistakeable bounce in his step.

The first thing he did was apologize for not getting off the ice sooner. Not a problem. I was 17 once, too, you know.

We pulled out of the parking lot and wheeled into the Mississauga darkness toward home.

“That was fun,” he said. “It felt good to be back on the ice.”

We tried to remember when the last time was that he went eight days without skating.

Late March maybe?

“I dunno. A long time. But that was fun.”

It was fun for me too. Let’s go home and eat.

Nov 8, 2010

With Pad on the shelf this weekend because of suspension and injury, and Chris’s Saturday timekeeping duties having been moved ahead a couple of days, the boys and I were all home Saturday afternoon with free time on our hands.

There is a movie they were very keen to see and in one of the greatest lapses of parental judgment to occur on either side of our family in generations, I agreed to go with them to see Jackass 3-D.

I’m not sure if the mistake was in going with them to the movie, or allowing them to go at all. Pad is 17 and bigger than me and Chris is not far behind. I don’t really stop them from doing anything any more. It’s more like herding.

Anyway, there’s no doubt a mistake was made.

Don’t get me wrong. The boys loved it.

Chris said his sides actually hurt from laughing.

And yeah. There were some truly outrageously funny instances of pure, physical slapstick comedy.

But as Pad wisely demurred: “There were parts of the movie I could have lived without.”

Ditto.

I’m not going to review those parts here. Suffice to say it takes an awful lot to offend me . . . and this movie at times was hands down the most offensive thing I’ve ever seen on the big screen.

Making the guy sit behind the airplane’s jet engine turbine until it blew him down the field? That was funny.

Or the two guys playing tetherball with a beehive with 15,000 bees in it? OK, even that was funny.

And roller skating with the buffalo herd, and midget bar brawl – with midget cops and midget EMS people all descending on an unsuspecting public bar? Yeah, those were funny.

And making the guys run/crawl through the gauntlet of 15 live Tasers and cattleprods? Yep. It was funny.

All of those things were funny. Stupid. Really stupid. But funny.

The game of pin the tail on the donkey? With the real donkey? Who kicked the guy exactly where the camera needed him to me kicked to make the gag work? Funny.

Even the Lamborghini tooth pull – yes, they attached a guy’s incisor to a wire hooked to a Lamborghini and then had the car speed away, literally popping out the tooth – was funny, albeit cringe worthy.

Even crazy-gluing the midget to the fat hairy guy was funny.

But there were four or five other stunts, which I’m not going to describe, that were just disturbing.

Do. Not. Go. You will regret it.

Do. Not. Let. Your. Kid. Go.

You’ve been warned.

And BTW, because we went to the movie, I didn't get to the MOHA 50th anniversary thingy.

When they have the 100th, I'm going.

- - -

Weekend hockey action:

Tyke Blackhawks lose a nail-biter.

Bantam Jets win a nail-biter.

Leafs lose to Buffalo, giving Lindy a lease on life. (Is it alliteration Monday?)

Net-net. Not bad. Chris’s team sits atop their division with four wins, three of them by one goal, the other by two.

- - -

If you’re a music fan, you’ll want to read this.

Actually, if you’re not a music fan but you are a fan of The Rolling Stones, you’ll want to read this.

OK – even if you’re not a Stones fan, but like reading something really juicy, you’ll want to read this.

“This” is a rock critic’s imagined reply from Mick Jagger to his long-time collaborator, partner, friend, colleague, Keith Richards, who has just published what may be the most acclaimed rock and roll book in 30 years, Life.

The book is a bit hard on Mick in parts, and rock writer Bill Wyman (not to be confused with the former Stones drummer of the same name) imagines what Mick might be thinking.

When it originally appeared online it was cast more directly as having been written by Jagger. It is now clear that it was not.

But it is still a stunning;y good perspective on the tortured relationships and dynamics of the world’s longest-running rock n’ roll circus.

As I do on occasion, I will warn you that this is a VERY long item and you should probably get a beverage. Because once you start reading it, you won’t stop.

Click here for more than you ever wanted to know about the Stones.

- - -

For your late-night viewing/recording pleasure, Conan O’Brien returns to the air tonight.

He’s going to have to do it without me – I occasionally will make it through Letterman’s monologue and even the Top Ten. But I can’t see waiting up for Conan.

The Globe’s talented TV guy has a pretty decent take on the talk-show biz these days, which can be summarized thusly: Jon Stewart is eating the lunches of Dave and Jay and soon, Conan too.

If you care, read it here.

Nov 5, 2010

Yesterday’s hero was Sparky.

Today's is the Edison Pena, a Chilean miner – one of the beleaguered crew trapped under the Earth in a terrible mine disaster, then rescued to great acclaim – who appeared on David Letterman last night and sang a portion of an Elvis song.

Good for him.

The audience ate it up and the miner was clearly enjoying a healthy portion of his 15 minutes of fame.

Click below to view it. Feel free to sing along.

Or dance. After all, it's Friday. The singing starts at about the four minute mark.

- - -

Perhaps the most compelling story of the week is that of the elderly Nova Scotia couple who won $11.2 million in a lottery and gave it all away, because they didn’t need the money.

They’re not rich, they just don’t need the stuff that comes with that much money.

It’s an amazing story and I’m certain there’s a life lesson in there for all of us – and our kids.

Read more here.

The photo is worth a thousand words.

And while I’m certain that the communities of rural Ontario or Alberta have people with similar values, I am also not in the least surprised that they are from Nova Scotia.

- - -

Is it just me, or could it be that Lindy Ruff is reaching a crossroad?

Three games short of 1,000 as the bench boss in Buffalo, the Sabres are in last place in the Eastern Conference and going nowhere fast.

Ruff has been head coach since 1997 making him the longest serving NHL coach by a long, long margin.

Read more here.

Too many guys are called legends.

Sparky was a legend.

- - -

So Chris’s timekeeping on Saturday has been moved to tonight (we just found out) to accommodate some sort of MOHA 50^th anniversary thing happening on the weekend, somewhere.

I kid.

You can read more on what they have planned for the day here.

But it has wildly complicated my evening which already included a tyke coaches meeting, an OMHA AAA bantam game at 16 Mile SC, and time with my wife who I never seen anymore.

And worse, the coaches’ meeting is at a coffee pub, not a pub pub!

When Reggie called coach meetings, we went to a pub.

When John called coach meetings, we went to a pub.

I think our convener is too healthy for my good. I hope they serve Diet Pepsi.

- - -

What?

If you asked Laura what my reaction would be to almost anything she says, she’d probably say there’s a good chance I’d look up from my Blackberry and say:

“What?”

In my defence, she does this too (more than me, I’d argue) but I won’t get into that now.

The point is, I probably say “What?” more than I really should.

The good news is, I’m in good company.

Actually, Don Draper of the TV show Mad Men is a bit of a cad and a jerk, so maybe the company is not that good after all.

But ol’ Don sure says “What?” a lot. It’s almost an art form when he does it. When I do it, it’s just annoying.

Regardless of whether you’ve ever seen even one minute of Mad Men, you can still click on the clip below and get an appreciation for about 100 different ways to say “What?” courtesy of one of television’s great rouges.

More tomorrow.

Nov 3, 2010

The Leafs lost their sixth of their last seven games last night, 3-2 to the Sens of all people.

Suddenly there’s all sorts of room on the corner of King and Yonge to pick out a parade vantage point.

Time to settle in for a long winter’s nap.