Not a proud day to be a Canadian

Vancouver is ablaze. Rioting in the streets. “Canadians rioting?” people in other parts of the world ask. And at that moment you see the flicker of respect for Canadian character disappear from their eyes. You know then that you will never again be able to convince people that Canadians are uniquely different from Americans. And why? Is it all about a hockey game?

Hockey is our national sport. It is in our blood. One might say that in a way, it defines us. When Sidney Crosby scored the magical overtime goal to win Olympic Gold for Canada during the 2010 Winter Olympics, the whole nation (including us expats abroad) rocked with joy and proud patriotism. “Can it get any better than this?” we asked. And then came the seventh game showdown between Boston and Vancouver, in Vancouver.

Actually, the ugliness didn’t begin then. It had begun already a few games earlier, when a Vancouver player sent a Boston player to the hospital and out of the playoffs. Until that moment, I had been  enjoying this season’s playoffs, thinking it was the best NHL hockey I had seen in years. It reached its highest point in the 7th game of the semi-final round between Boston and Tampa Bay when not even one penalty was called and it was just about the hockey. But it was all downhill after this. The Boston-Vancouver series started out with a slew of penalties, then we had the Vancouver biting incident, and finally the inexcusable cheap shot that sent a player to the hospital.

But this shouldn’t have come as any surprise in a game where TV sport announcers glorify each hard hit, where the most enthusiastic cheers from the fans come from crushing blows rather than spectacular plays, and where injuries are often blamed on a player not keeping his head up, rather than the clear intention of the opposing player to cause pain and intimidation. How do we expect to have great play makers when players have to spend most of the time with their heads up, worrying about violent hits, rather than concentrating on the puck and skillful strategy? Sydney Crosby, perhaps the greatest play maker of this time - missed the last half of the season due to a concussion caused by a cheap blow to the head. He apparently was more concerned in playing hockey than in worrying about being hit.

Hockey has become a gladiator sport. Should we be surprised, then, that it spread out into the streets after the seventh game loss? Riots aren’t something new to sport. Sport harnesses herd mentality which often brings out the worst in us. As we saw in “Lord of the Flies”, it only takes a moment for the social checks and balances to break down in order to bring out our most primitive instincts. Yes... also in Canada.

So, what do we want to define us as Canadians? The riots of Vancouver 2011? Or the warm hospitality of the Vancouver populace in the  2010 Winter Olympics? And when your small child puts on skates, grabs a hockey stick and heads out to the pond in the back yard to play with neighborhood friends, who do you want him or her to emulate?

Where does your loyalty lie?

It’s the Winter Olympics 2014 and we’re sitting down to watch the Gold Medal hockey final. All of Israel is talking about the unbelievable meteoric rise of Team Israel from total anonymity to becoming a leading contender in the hockey world. Years of dodging Katyushas on the only Olympic-size ice rink in Israel alongside the Lebanese border, mixed in with hockey skirmishes on roller blades during the summer months, have finally paid off. It  all comes down now to the battle of the stars: Team Canada’s Sidney Crosby against Team Israel’s Gabby Cohen (AKA “The Rocket Cohen”).

Too far-fetched? Perhaps. I really don’t expect to have to choose any time soon between the hockey tradition which has shaped the core of my being and the little David who has traded in his slingshot for skates and a hockey stick.

But what if I had to? Where would my loyalty lie? How can an Expat remain loyal to countries old and new? The closest I have come to having to choose was when Celine Dion represented Switzerland in the  Eurovision Song Contest. It wasn’t even Canada competing, but she was Canadian, nonetheless. And Israelis take their Eurovision seriously, much too seriously in fact. But I was let off easily when it became apparent that Israel had no chance of winning (Israel finished in 7th place that year). So I was allowed to root for Celine in the nail biting finish.

I don’t know how Canadian expats living in the States manage, though. The States and Canada are up against each other all the time, and sometimes it can get quite ugly. And apparently about 80% of Canadian expats live in the States. I can see it now. Canadian expats tucking their folded Canadian flags into their pants and drinking their Molson Canadian beer out of brown paper bags, while watching the U.S.A. and Canada square off in the 2010 Winter Olympics hockey final. That is nothing, though, compared to the NHL hockey players with dual American and Canadian citizenship who have to decide which team to play for in the Olympics. There was one notable case where one brother went to play for Team USA and the other brother went to play for Team Canada.

Loyalty is a difficult fish to fry. Look at what happens after you get married. Suddenly holiday celebrations become a balancing act between blood relations and in-laws.

In most cases, such questions of loyalty are not a matter of life and death, unless both countries decide to go to war with each other. Then loyalty to the enemy country is quite frowned upon and you may find yourself jailed as a spy or enemy sympathizer. But I see no sign of Israel and Canada going to war soon and I think Americans have given up on seeking revenge for the War of 1812 - although I may be mistaken. But I can’t speak for the rest of you spread out through the world.

Maybe we shouldn’t worry about loyalty. Does anything really deserve our blind support? Why not be selective in our choices and go with what feels right. Whether it be Molson Canadian or a Budweiser, Creemore or Goldstar, an American dropping “r’s” or a Canadian with dangling “eh’s”, English, Hebrew, trees or sand...  let’s just celebrate who we are - even if one night we are cheering on The Rocket Cohen and the next night Sid the Kid Crosby.

My hockey cup runneth over

They say that hockey is in every Canadian’s blood. Don’t know about that. But it is certainly a part of my beginnings. I have proof of that in the small trophy sitting on my living room shelf, down here in the desert.

“David Lloyd – Mite Champion” I won’t include the year. 

Not that I have anything to hide, but… *sigh – let’s just say that I was eight years old at the time. Now this trophy, in addition to the rust, has undergone a traumatic past, revealed by the broken handle on one side - not a mean feat for something made out of some sort of metal - and the cup itself, bent forward. I am not going to lay any blame for its present appearance on anyone, although I will mention that one of my best friends was seen leaving the room shortly before the damage was reported. My friend, who will presently remain nameless, maintains – until this day - that his team should have won the cup. The thing is - we didn’t know each other at the time of the championship game, which my team won 1-0, but we were both under this massive pile of skates, hockey sticks and hockey gloves, right in front of his team’s goal. And somehow the puck managed to make its way into their net. He calls it a hand goal, but has no physical evidence to present. I maintain that I saw a stick poke it in. But even if I am mistaken, I will freely borrow from Maradona in claiming that it was the hand of God. (I have often wondered what position God would play – attacking centre forward or saviour in goal. I guess this very much depends on whether this is a Jewish God or a Christian God.)

I played a few more years after that, but stopped when my mother thought that hockey was getting too violent. Actually, and this is just between me and all of you out there - I was grateful for the out, for I was becoming increasingly bruised through the wear and tear of spending most of my time squeezed against the boards. I have never done too well with physical contact (and stop that snickering), although my closest thing to a real physical fight came on the hockey rink. I was playing on defence at the time and the opposing player first took offense to my sticking the stick up between his legs and pulling back hard when he was on a breakaway. Especially since I got away with it. So, at the first opportunity, he hit me hard. Then I found an opportunity to hit him and so we continued until the final buzzer signaling the end of the game. At this point, like real pros, we threw off our gloves and squared up for a real fight. But the referee, towering over us, stepped in to stop all of this nonsense. You may think I had it planned that way, but I admit nothing. The thing is, a Canadian puts on skates and immediately thinks he is Rambo. But it is good if you have something to back it up. So, for my own good, I left playing hockey early and depended only on watching the sport from the safety of the living room. The Toronto Maple Leafs won their last Stanley Cup shortly after that. I have vehemently maintained throughout the years that there was no connection between the two, almost parallel, developments. But not long after that I set out on a self-exile. I have vague memories of saying, at the time, that I would be back when the Maple Leafs next won the Stanley Cup. You can see how well that worked out for me.

What does all this have to do with the Israeli experience? Actually, I think that hockey is the perfect sport for Israelis. Fast, non-stopping, people getting thrills by hitting each other, shouting and swearing – much like a Sunday drive down a street in Tel Aviv. The only problem is a lack of ice. A small setback. There is only one “official” ice rink in Israel, up by the Lebanese border. There is something poetic about putting a hockey rink close to a border where missiles are frequently fired down upon us. Adds flavour to the game, perhaps. But, despite all this, an Israeli team managed to win the Division B trophy in an International Peewee Ice Hockey Tournament in Quebec City. Not having access to ice most of the year, they practiced most of the time on roller skates. I bet the Russians never thought of that. Maybe the Maple Leafs should come over here for a few pointers. Perhaps their problem is that they keep insisting on playing on ice.

And while we are talking about ice, there is one more thing that the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Middle East have in common: the Leafs will win the Stanley Cup and there will be peace in the Middle East probably only when hell freezes over.