[A annotated hockey throwback – I guess this would be a backhand shot?]

Now that Easter is over, our household has entered the next holiday season: Hockey. I can call it a holiday because just like after a big meal at Christmas or Easter, it’s difficult to get my husband off the couch – unless, of course, he’s actually going to a game. I consider it fortunate if Rick agrees to do something else with me if the Oilers are on TV. [We’re currently on vacation, in a city whose team thankfully did not make it into the playoffs, while Rick’s beloved Oilers did. But my husband, while he still loves his hockey, forgot to factor in that he’d be missing some first-round playoff hockey in the safety of his own province when we planned this getaway. Clearly, he now has too many other things on his mind.] It’s also not worth it if the activity is something where he can talk a lot, openly reminding me what he’s missing while he could be enriching his mind with the edifying commentary of Ron MacClean and Don Cherry. [We all know what happened to Don Cherry but Ron is still holding down the fort.]

I’m not sure exactly why I’m not a hockey fan. Along with Edmonton [football team] games, it was one of the times I really enjoyed, because most or all of the family would gather around the television like it was a fireplace on a frosty Canadian evening.  But, out of a family of seven kids, I am probably the only one who has never watched an entire game on TV. I’m more the type that comes in for the commercials and goes to fix snacks when the game resumes. My brothers were diehard Black Hawks fans: it was a banner Saturday night in our house when the Hawks were on and a cause for real celebration if they won. My two sisters had more focused interests, namely Bobby Orr and Bobby Clark, but they, too, actually watched the game.

When I became a teenager, however, I did begin to show an interest in hockey, but it manifested itself in a covert Wayne Gretzky newspaper clipping collection. You see, in my house the Edmonton Oilers had become the equivalent of watching Oprah Winfrey win another Emmy for Best Talk Show. [This is called Toronto Maple Leaf Fan Syndrome now.] But Wayne was only a few years older than me and his long flowing locks did the same thing to me as Guy Lafleur did for other women 10 years earlier. [R.I.P Guy Lafleur April 22, 2022.] Years later I married an avid Oilers fan (begrudgingly accepted by my big brothers). When I confessed to Rick years later, after the said clipping collection had gone the way of the burn barrel, that I had once harboured a secret Wayne Gretzky adoration, he said he would have felt the same way if he was a girl. [My mother saved those clippings for years after I had left home. She must have liked him, too.]

My three sons have yet to develop any sort of attention span when daddy settles down to watch a hockey game. All I have to do is dangle the Berenstain Bears or Dr. Suess in front of them and I have company. But they love wearing the Oilers hats that Dad got them and pretty soon they’ll probably sit with him for longer that it takes the theme song to play out. [This has definitely come to pass. Now, if we’re all together, WE gather around the TV like it’s a fireplace.] At that point, I’ll have probably have time to do my thing. Or maybe I’ll actually have to learn to enjoy watching hockey as Rick is always hoping. Chances are good that I’ll be hanging out in the living room, still doing my thing, but enjoying the four of them jumping and cheering when the right team scores. [I actually do enjoy watching hockey now, but even more, I love being part of Team Donily – of which Oil loyalty is a given. Go, Oilers, Go!]