Hockey
is life, survival for Canadian fantatics
Patrick Creaven
As time goes by memories tend to slip away, but there are a few moments and events
that seem to stay with you forever.
It all started with Game 6.
My friends and I were bored in Davis, Calif. so we got some beers and watched
the Calgary Flames and Tampa Bay Lightning play in a double overtime thriller,
which the Lightning eventually won. With the win, Tampa forced a Game 7, and
the winner would be Stanly Cup champs.
After the game, my longtime friend Brian Daly and I drove back to our Bay Area
home.
So in search of “the biggest party in North America,” we packed our
bags the next day”and began the journey.
We didn’t have much time, we had to drive straight there.
We were a bit delirious, but the two of us were ready to cheer on the Flames
like we’ve never cheered before.
But no one else was. The bar was full, about 200 people, but it was as silent
as a church on Sunday. This was serious. This was the Stanley Cup. This was Canada.
The Flames didn’t get off to a good start. Tampa came out flying, scoring
a goal in the first period, and again in the second.
The two kids from California started cursing the Flames under our breaths.
“
How could they do this to us? We drive all the way out here, and they
lose! F**k the Flames,” I said.
Agitated, I went to the bathroom during the second intermission. While in the
stall, a middle-aged man next to me started talking.
“
Don’t worry son,” he said. “They will win, just watch.”
“
They don’t have it tonight,” I said somberly. “It’s
just not meant to be.”
“
You don’t understand,” he scolded.” They will win.
They have to.”
After that, I understood the gravity of the situation. For six months out of
the year there are two things to do in Calgary. Try to stay warm and hockey.
These people didn’t just want their team to win, they needed them to.
Things still looked bad midway through the final period, but then the quiet bar
erupted after a Flames goal.
Finally, probably out of desperation, the fans in the bar started cheering like
Americans watching football at Hooters. I even started a “Let’s go
Flames” chant.
But it wasn’t meant to be. The Flames rallied in the final minutes, but
couldn’t score.
I ran into the man from the bathroom on the way out of the bar. Not knowing what
to say, I just shrugged my shoulders.
“
Don’t worry,” he said, reassuringly. “We’ll get
it next year.”
After my trip to Calgary, I roll my eyes when someone from Orange County starts
talking about what a big sports fans he or she is.
If Calgary does get to the Finals again, I’ll give my friend Brian a call.
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