10 days since my last post- that's not too terrible.
The tricky thing about blogging about hockey in the summer is that there is no hockey to write about. Sure, there are some rookie camps and prospect showdowns happening, but I'm not ready to delve in that deeply just yet.
It does make me reminisce a little bit about the summer of 2002, when I spent most available moments in Columbus, attending many of those very same rookie camps and prospect showdowns. But it was different then, because I knew several of the players in the Blue Jackets' system from the minor leagues.
Gosh, that was an awesome summer. We went skating practically every Sunday, and spent a heap of time watching young guys play hockey. I may talk about that a bit more here soon, whenever I get my thoughts in order. One of these days I'm going to write a memoir-
"In Pursuit of the Impossible Winter Dream"
(with something under in in parentheses about searching for my hockey love, but I haven't quite worded that part yet)
I even have the final sentence- "They are great memories, most of them, a few sad times and some wrenching bitterness, but mostly it was hockey and hockey is essentially good. At the heart of it, hockey is everything."
Now I just need everything in between. ;)
Showing posts with label hockey history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey history. Show all posts
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Friday, March 18, 2011
hockey history
I have been thinking about this post for several days now.. not wanting to write it until it "felt right" and I could say the words that have been tumbling around in head and get them across in the way that means what I want them to mean. I don't know if now is the time, but I'm going to try.
I've been pondering the term "hockey history" and what that means to different people. With the sudden passing of Rick Martin, hockey fans in Buffalo (and elsewhere I'm sure) seemed to be not only saddened, but wounded by his death. I say "wounded" because the feelings and emotions being talked about were very personal- not just public recognition of his worth as a hockey player, but personal attachment of his value as a human being and a member of society. You don't always find that personal attachment when it comes to a "public figure". But Rick Martin must have been different. Buffalo is different.
For a lot of people (I might even venture to say a majority of people), they are born, grow up, and then move out of their parents' house-- but often not too far from "home". They get a job in a neighboring town, or a few hours away in the same state and keep up familial relations with parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, etc. They have large, local family gatherings and everyone knows what's going on with everyone else and people regularly visit their cousins. I would say this is reasonably regular behavior.
But for some people it's different. You move around a few times before settling 2,000 miles from any extended family. It's okay because the nuclear family is a big one so there's no shortage of companionship. But there is something missing- a bigger picture of grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. Sure, those people exist, but they are seen in 3-to-5 year intervals and not known well at all. There is no resentment for this, it's normal. But then you realize it's actually not the "norm" and that many people do have personal relationships with family outside of parents and siblings. It's a little depressing but life goes on. Then you move away even further-- 400 miles from the place that YOU grew up and the cycle continues.
You wonder sometimes about your parents- when they die (hopefully MANY MANY years from now), will they be buried in Ohio, the place where they spent their adult lives, or in Louisiana- the place they came from and where the family still lives? You wonder about yourself- will you stay in Western NY or go back to Ohio- where you "came from" or somewhere else entirely? There's a sense of missing "history" and you wonder what kind of attachment your children (if you ever have any) will feel to a place. You don't really feel any attachment to one place so you sometimes find it hard to see how people can.
Then you meet Buffalo. You meet the folks who were born and raised in Buffalo and Western NY. They are proud of where they come from (most people are) and they stayed here and worked hard, just like their parents did. And they grew up watching the Buffalo Sabres and sharing the heartbreak of being a Sabres fan. They remember games at the Aud and the "French Connection" Line and all of the good ole days. They feel a love for their city and their TEAM and a sense of belonging to both of those entities- for they are tied together very strongly. Hockey is a part of Buffalo's history and if they were lucky enough to grow up in a household that cared about hockey (which is quite a few folks around these parts) then hockey is a part of their history as well.
But hockey was not a part of your history. It's not a part of your family's history. You had to come to it on your own. As a result, you don't have a history of attachment to any particular team. You move in and out of teams and players based on geography and favorites. You create your own hockey history, and as circumstances would have it, this history only goes back to 1994. That's when it all began. And you were never lucky enough to live in the same town as your favorites- not in Vancouver to see Trevor Linden or Pavel Bure, not in Detroit for Steve Yzerman and Brendan Shanahan or Newark for Marty Brodeur. You've never met any of these men, and likely never will. But they are a part of your hockey history- you remember seeing them play and the emotion of that will stay with you forever. They made an impact on your life and you will never be quite the same as you were before your hockey odyssey.
And that is what I think that Rick Martin meant to the people of Buffalo. He came here to play hockey-- and he did that very well, from all accounts (I wasn't around to see it but the tape and the numbers don't lie.) He stayed around to make a life, but never forgot his hockey roots. Everyone spoke of him as very friendly and funny and a good person to have in Buffalo. A great ambassador for the city and the sport. A true part of Buffalo's hockey history. A shared history for anyone who was around to see it and know it and live it. And that shared history made the shared sorrow so profound. It was like losing a member of the family. Someone they all knew and loved and they will never be the same having known him (even if only on the ice) and lost him.
Rest in Peace, Rick Martin. You are not a part of my hockey history, but you are a part of where I live, and what I love about Buffalo. You will always be a part of Buffalo.
Thank you for being a part of Buffalo's Hockey History.
I've been pondering the term "hockey history" and what that means to different people. With the sudden passing of Rick Martin, hockey fans in Buffalo (and elsewhere I'm sure) seemed to be not only saddened, but wounded by his death. I say "wounded" because the feelings and emotions being talked about were very personal- not just public recognition of his worth as a hockey player, but personal attachment of his value as a human being and a member of society. You don't always find that personal attachment when it comes to a "public figure". But Rick Martin must have been different. Buffalo is different.
For a lot of people (I might even venture to say a majority of people), they are born, grow up, and then move out of their parents' house-- but often not too far from "home". They get a job in a neighboring town, or a few hours away in the same state and keep up familial relations with parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, etc. They have large, local family gatherings and everyone knows what's going on with everyone else and people regularly visit their cousins. I would say this is reasonably regular behavior.
But for some people it's different. You move around a few times before settling 2,000 miles from any extended family. It's okay because the nuclear family is a big one so there's no shortage of companionship. But there is something missing- a bigger picture of grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. Sure, those people exist, but they are seen in 3-to-5 year intervals and not known well at all. There is no resentment for this, it's normal. But then you realize it's actually not the "norm" and that many people do have personal relationships with family outside of parents and siblings. It's a little depressing but life goes on. Then you move away even further-- 400 miles from the place that YOU grew up and the cycle continues.
You wonder sometimes about your parents- when they die (hopefully MANY MANY years from now), will they be buried in Ohio, the place where they spent their adult lives, or in Louisiana- the place they came from and where the family still lives? You wonder about yourself- will you stay in Western NY or go back to Ohio- where you "came from" or somewhere else entirely? There's a sense of missing "history" and you wonder what kind of attachment your children (if you ever have any) will feel to a place. You don't really feel any attachment to one place so you sometimes find it hard to see how people can.
Then you meet Buffalo. You meet the folks who were born and raised in Buffalo and Western NY. They are proud of where they come from (most people are) and they stayed here and worked hard, just like their parents did. And they grew up watching the Buffalo Sabres and sharing the heartbreak of being a Sabres fan. They remember games at the Aud and the "French Connection" Line and all of the good ole days. They feel a love for their city and their TEAM and a sense of belonging to both of those entities- for they are tied together very strongly. Hockey is a part of Buffalo's history and if they were lucky enough to grow up in a household that cared about hockey (which is quite a few folks around these parts) then hockey is a part of their history as well.
But hockey was not a part of your history. It's not a part of your family's history. You had to come to it on your own. As a result, you don't have a history of attachment to any particular team. You move in and out of teams and players based on geography and favorites. You create your own hockey history, and as circumstances would have it, this history only goes back to 1994. That's when it all began. And you were never lucky enough to live in the same town as your favorites- not in Vancouver to see Trevor Linden or Pavel Bure, not in Detroit for Steve Yzerman and Brendan Shanahan or Newark for Marty Brodeur. You've never met any of these men, and likely never will. But they are a part of your hockey history- you remember seeing them play and the emotion of that will stay with you forever. They made an impact on your life and you will never be quite the same as you were before your hockey odyssey.
And that is what I think that Rick Martin meant to the people of Buffalo. He came here to play hockey-- and he did that very well, from all accounts (I wasn't around to see it but the tape and the numbers don't lie.) He stayed around to make a life, but never forgot his hockey roots. Everyone spoke of him as very friendly and funny and a good person to have in Buffalo. A great ambassador for the city and the sport. A true part of Buffalo's hockey history. A shared history for anyone who was around to see it and know it and live it. And that shared history made the shared sorrow so profound. It was like losing a member of the family. Someone they all knew and loved and they will never be the same having known him (even if only on the ice) and lost him.
Rest in Peace, Rick Martin. You are not a part of my hockey history, but you are a part of where I live, and what I love about Buffalo. You will always be a part of Buffalo.
Thank you for being a part of Buffalo's Hockey History.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
missed connections
I'm reading a book called The Puck Stars Here: The Origin of Canada's Great Winter Game Ice Hockey by Garth Vaughan. It's pretty neat- he chronicles the start of ice hockey- not indoor organized hockey (which was more or less introduced to Canada by James Creighton in Montreal in 1885), but what came before. And it all started (like many things in Canada) in Nova Scotia in the early and middle 1800s.
Now that makes for a cool story and it's interesting in itself but what is really fascinating to me is the fact that I had ancestors in Nova Scotia just prior to that time. My something-times great Grandfather, Michael (not Michel, interestingly enough) Dupuis, went from France to NS (for reasons unknown to us) in the 1640s or so- we dont know exactly when but his son Martin was born in Port Royal, NS in 1665 so they were there then.
The Dupius lived in Nova Scotia in the area of Grande Pre and Port Royal (close to Wolfville and Windsor) until 1785 when the British gained occupation of Nova Scotia and expelled the Acadians. The Dupuis (at least the ones in my line of ancestry- don't know about others, though if I ever visit, and I want to, I want to try and trace them too) left for Louisiana and the rest is history (that's where my Mom (and Dad) are from).
And where was hockey (or hurley as it was initially called, after an Irish game) being played? In Halifax, Dartmouth, Windsor and Wolfville, primarily. Right where my people (had they not been French) would have been living.
So I can't help but imagine how life would be had the French not been expelled from Acadia. (Obviously I wouldn't be here and be me, since my Dad's fam came straight from France but that is not the point.) It's all about decisions made or not made, turns taken and not taken, and the paths we choose or are sent on. How close we can come to history and yet miss it entirely.
Just something that made me think...
Now that makes for a cool story and it's interesting in itself but what is really fascinating to me is the fact that I had ancestors in Nova Scotia just prior to that time. My something-times great Grandfather, Michael (not Michel, interestingly enough) Dupuis, went from France to NS (for reasons unknown to us) in the 1640s or so- we dont know exactly when but his son Martin was born in Port Royal, NS in 1665 so they were there then.
The Dupius lived in Nova Scotia in the area of Grande Pre and Port Royal (close to Wolfville and Windsor) until 1785 when the British gained occupation of Nova Scotia and expelled the Acadians. The Dupuis (at least the ones in my line of ancestry- don't know about others, though if I ever visit, and I want to, I want to try and trace them too) left for Louisiana and the rest is history (that's where my Mom (and Dad) are from).
And where was hockey (or hurley as it was initially called, after an Irish game) being played? In Halifax, Dartmouth, Windsor and Wolfville, primarily. Right where my people (had they not been French) would have been living.
So I can't help but imagine how life would be had the French not been expelled from Acadia. (Obviously I wouldn't be here and be me, since my Dad's fam came straight from France but that is not the point.) It's all about decisions made or not made, turns taken and not taken, and the paths we choose or are sent on. How close we can come to history and yet miss it entirely.
Just something that made me think...
Saturday, May 22, 2010
le Rocket
No comments on my last entry, eh? hmm..
I just finished a really cool book. It's called "The Rocket: A Cultural History of Maurice Richard" by Benoit Melancon. I have read lots of books about hockey. I try to read books about players from before my time so I can have a better understanding of what they were like. It is good in that it gives me a sense of the history of hockey, but bad in the sense that it makes me wish I had been alive to see them play.
Actually, I had a really interesting sequence of things happen around Christmas. I got a movie and a book for Christmas- the book was Ken Dryden's "The Game" and the movie was "The Rocket"- produced by Charles Biname, starring Roy Dupuis, and released in 2005. I also was reading "Searching for Bobby Orr". The 3 combined to present me with a great picture of hockey from 1942-1979. I'd highly recommend both of the books and the movie to anyone.
But back to the topic at hand. In this book I just read, Melancon breaks down the appearance of Richard as a cultural icon, a man, a myth, a legend. He uses many examples from all over the spectrum and it is just fascinating. I loved the movie "The Rocket" because it really showed a lot of what was going on in Quebec and for Maurice personally. This book delves even deeper into all of it.
It's a good read. A bit technical at times, but mostly just an interesting look at the creating of a national legend who became so not because of his hockey prowess (he did score MANY MANY goal) but because of his sheer tenacity and utter determination to SCORE goals, no matter what. He did not give up on playing hockey (even when told he was too fragile), he did not give up on scoring goals (as his 626 will attest-- and the many overtime goals in there), he did not give up on being a decent human being (as far as we know.. there have been no sordid tales of Maurice after his death or during his life) even though he lived much of his life in a very public (and often unwanted and uncomfortable) spotlight.
It's been nearly 10 years since his death. (May 27, 2000) We will never have heroes as pure as they used to be or as untainted as Maurice was. I just wish I had seen him play. Guess I'll have to stick with my books and movies. And now I have a fountain of information for finding out more about Maurice. And you know I shall. :)
I just finished a really cool book. It's called "The Rocket: A Cultural History of Maurice Richard" by Benoit Melancon. I have read lots of books about hockey. I try to read books about players from before my time so I can have a better understanding of what they were like. It is good in that it gives me a sense of the history of hockey, but bad in the sense that it makes me wish I had been alive to see them play.
Actually, I had a really interesting sequence of things happen around Christmas. I got a movie and a book for Christmas- the book was Ken Dryden's "The Game" and the movie was "The Rocket"- produced by Charles Biname, starring Roy Dupuis, and released in 2005. I also was reading "Searching for Bobby Orr". The 3 combined to present me with a great picture of hockey from 1942-1979. I'd highly recommend both of the books and the movie to anyone.
But back to the topic at hand. In this book I just read, Melancon breaks down the appearance of Richard as a cultural icon, a man, a myth, a legend. He uses many examples from all over the spectrum and it is just fascinating. I loved the movie "The Rocket" because it really showed a lot of what was going on in Quebec and for Maurice personally. This book delves even deeper into all of it.
It's a good read. A bit technical at times, but mostly just an interesting look at the creating of a national legend who became so not because of his hockey prowess (he did score MANY MANY goal) but because of his sheer tenacity and utter determination to SCORE goals, no matter what. He did not give up on playing hockey (even when told he was too fragile), he did not give up on scoring goals (as his 626 will attest-- and the many overtime goals in there), he did not give up on being a decent human being (as far as we know.. there have been no sordid tales of Maurice after his death or during his life) even though he lived much of his life in a very public (and often unwanted and uncomfortable) spotlight.
It's been nearly 10 years since his death. (May 27, 2000) We will never have heroes as pure as they used to be or as untainted as Maurice was. I just wish I had seen him play. Guess I'll have to stick with my books and movies. And now I have a fountain of information for finding out more about Maurice. And you know I shall. :)
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