to be.. Canadian at a hockey game

The Maple Leafs won over the Edmonton Oilers last night at the Air Canada Centre, 6-4. I was part of a cheery audience, a node in a huge colourful crowd screaming out its joy. This was the first NHL hockey game that I attended live: I was lucky to share the victory of the Toronto team. “It doesn’t always happen!”, someone exclaims. I figure out there might be better teams. Yes, I am a novice in these matters. There is work to be done. The work in progress is in the nature of performing and competing and training and succeeding. The Leafs are no exception. The Gladwell “10.000-hour rule” pops out, the theory exists. One has to look for practice. And practice, there at the game, I had a sense of it: the players made proof of strategy. They had a method. There were strengths and mistakes and all was part of the game. Beyond these moves that seemed so smooth, effortless, I could guess the sweat and the hard work. I did feel special watching and being present there at the game. It was much different from my ordinary week-end, a sort of première.

This special event makes me query what it means to be Canadian? And how does hockey fit into this search? The game last night was well the proof that team sports, such as ice-hockey, can give the lively feeling of belonging to an eclectic community, this feeling of sharing for a moment the passion for competition, the desire to build up memories. And also daring to dream, to scream! Almost 20.000 people gathered into the arena made one big Canadian soul and body that would raise their hands and voices together to cherish the blink of a goal. Inside the balloon-like Air Canada Centre, time was suspended and space had fluid borders. Gestures and voices were driven by the game. From time to time, on the big television screens, messages like: “scream!” or “cry loud and be proud!” would blow away the crowd in a frenetic long ovation. Cheerleaders would follow, while hats would fly up in the air. Never before did I stop to think of what it means to be Canadian when it comes to… hockey.

In other circumstances, the university environment gives me ideas of this ever-lasting question: “to be or not to be Canadian”. Answer in progress, as in academia, I find things are quite different from hockey. Cultural codes, expectations and events can give a spark and often clash in what I feel as isolation. Working, teaching and returning to the office nest: your own. That can still be fine when there remains the power of imagination, the freedom of reading and research and creativity. And then, there is discovery and innovation. In all these imaginary places, a community of thought is possible. It stays alive and strong.

Somewhere else, I feel reassured to acknowledge that sports can perform miracles of sharing. They can bring sparkles of happiness, even frail and momentary, and give the impression of being in the moment: a joyful part of a large history that is about to be born and written. In time, I will remember this hockey game, a day in March. It did change something into my heart, into my mind: in between sports, tradition and discourse, I still think of what it means to be Canadian.