The End of an Era

Well my friends, it's now official. After 18 straight seasons and close to a thousand games in net, my hockey career is at an end. I'm announcing my retirement from the game I love so much.

To say it’s been a difficult decision is an enormous understatement. In a lot of ways, hockey has been with me throughout my entire adult life. I was not lucky enough to play the game as a youngster. Rather, I picked it up during college intramurals and was instantly hooked. I actually started as a forward, but as fate would have it, our goalie failed to show up for a game and I jumped in net as a last-minute replacement. The rest, as they say, is history.

I love everything about hockey, from the simplicity of the sport at its very heart to the intricacies of playmaking and challenges of strategy that can frustrate even the most seasoned veteran. Streaks and slumps, shutouts and blowouts, uplifting wins and humbling losses - they all combine to truly make this "the best game you can name."

And then there is the camaraderie no other sport offers. Players of all skill levels, abilities and aptitudes have challenged me to bring my best to the ice each game, and we've celebrated over many beers in countless dark dressing rooms and parking lots. I've played in Alaska, Texas, Oklahoma and now hockey Mecca: Canada! What a thrill to end my career here where hockey is bigger than all other sports combined and where a nation gather in rinks large and small to play the game or cheer its pursuit by skaters young and old. I've won championships in the triumph of overtimes and shootouts and lost them as well, in agonizing fashion. But if I could, I'd gladly give up my nights and weekends to play this game for the rest of my days.

However time, it seems, has finally caught up to me. My knees, hips and back are just not able to take another year of pounding between the pipes. The spirit is indeed willing, but the body is not. I know I will miss the rink, my teammates and the complete sensory experience that playing hockey has meant to me. But one ending makes for a new beginning, and it's time to turn the page and look forward to another adventure.

So to all I've have the privilege of skating with and against, I extend my most humble and heartfelt thanks. It's been a wonderful journey, and one that I'd gladly relive again if given the chance. At the end of it all, I'm just so happy and proud to have had the chance to experience the game the way it was meant to be played. Pure, simple and above all, wonderful...

Balcony Time Is Back!

There is something uniquely satisfying about time spent outdoors observing the comings and goings of others. My balcony sits at the perfect angle and height above the sidewalk to really get close to passers-by while still keeping distant enough to avoid detection. OK, maybe that sounds like spying, not observing, so let me attempt to clarify.

I simply love people watching. The little things really stand out for me. Mainly items others might miss: the gaits with which people walk, the way people make eye contact with others they meet, or the degree to which people take in their surroundings as they stroll by. Sometimes I try to imagine where they might be going, what’s on their minds or perhaps some other small read of their lives during the few short seconds they occupy my gaze.

I’m not really sure why, but the trivia of life and people has always fascinated me. All the little things that make up a life, most of which we may not even realize as we experience them. In a way, it’s very much like seeing the trees, and the forest, all together and separately – yet simultaneously.

Sometimes when there aren’t a lot of pedestrians in view, I turn my attention to the passing cars on the street. In the same way, I look at the little things. Not at the cars themselves (although they surely tell their own stories) but rather at their occupants, drivers and passengers alike. Are they talking, listening to music, texting (horror!) or merely lost in their own thoughts? Pondering these seemingly microscopic details enthralls me, much as I suppose a photographer is captivated by a single flower or blade of grass, or perhaps in the way a painter agonizes over the tiniest brush stroke or element of colour.

It's at these times I realize I’m completely content being in the world, and yet separated from it in the same instant. Watching, listening but above all experiencing things in their own time and space. That’s life in “high definition” from where I sit. And in taking the time to read this, you have shared the experience with me in some small measure. So thanks very much for that!

All Hail Lord Stanley and Tim Thomas!

Another NHL season has come to a close with the awarding of the Stanley Cup to the Boston Bruins. I'm not one to bandwagon-hop, but seeing Tim Thomas skate the cup was pretty damned gratifying. As a fellow "senior citizen" goaltender, the no-nonsense manner in which Thomas carried himself (and his team) was something I could totally get behind.

Clearly Vancouver was the better team statistically, and though it pains me as a new Canadian to see the Cup stay on the south side of the 49th parallel for another year, I can't say I'm not pleased with the end result. When all was done, the Bruins had spent more time working their game, and less time working the referees, than the did Canucks. And TT polished off gem after gem for all of us to see.

I'll steer clear of the sport-as-metaphor-for-life angle, for it's way, way overdone in my view. Heck, for all I know Tim Thomas could be a total jerk. But I doubt it. Part of me wants desperately to believe in the triumph of will over skill that I think we all can relate to at a certain level. And deep down, I know that what we saw from Tim speaks volumes about his character. In my mind, he is the real deal.

As I myself look forward to another season of beer league hockey - knowing each year could be my last at this point - I'll keep Tim Thomas clearly in mind as my example. Work hard, play your guts out, have fun and let the results speak for themselves. And really, isn't that all any of us can aspire to...?

Summertime, and The Living is... well, Complicated

The way things have gone weather-wise in southern Alberta this year, it’s hard to call what we’re now experiencing summer. Yet the calendar says it’s June and, since we are undoubtedly in the northern hemisphere, summer must be what this is.  Ironically, after all the complaining this past winter brought, "this" does not feel (at least not yet) anywhere near worth all the trouble.

Still, as I sit on the balcony contemplating the meaning of things, I find myself drawn back in time to summers past and balconies present. Warm sun, cold drinks, insightful music and compelling conversation all add up to thoroughly satisfying times consumed in the pursuit of nothing consequential. Nothing, that is, save simply being in the here and now: no world-weary concerns or cares to serve as distractions.

Sometimes, merely watching the day go by is pursuit enough. Allowing for the passage of time above all else seems oddly purposeful and fulfilling, when taking in the true measure of things. Like the sound of a mellow jazz vibe enjoyed under the swaying branch of a wind-kissed tree, life is best savoured in the moment.

I was reminded again this week of the fragility of life. All things have an expiry date, whether a carton of milk, bottle of beer, ripe banana or the whole of human existence. And despite our bravado to the contrary, we humans are no less subject to the inevitability of nature than any of our fellow creatures. The simple fact is that if we fail to acknowledge our own mortality, all is for naught.

Which, in an albeit roundabout way, brings me full circle.  As I sit in the warm June sun and think of times past and wonder about times to come, I feel a sense of quiet contentment that things unfold the way they must. If, for no other reason, than to remind us of the very fact that we are unique among the denizens of this world. We alone recognize the concept of times past, present and future. All other species on Earth live exclusively in, and can only even conceive of, the now. Maybe, when considered in this light, we atop the food chain have something to learn our brethren below…

The Winter Of Our Discontent

This is my fifth winter in Calgary. For whatever reason, it has been, by far, the longest and coldest. And I don't need statistics from Environment Canada to back me up on this. If you're a Cowtown resident, I'm sure you'll agree. This winter has sucked more than most in recent memory.

Now let me put this in context a bit. I'm not a winter whiner by nature. I actually like this time of year. It's not like I could've survived twenty winters in Alaska if I were thin-skinned between the autumnal and vernal equinoxes. But for some reason, I find myself craving spring far more than usual this time around the calendar.

And although I may be projecting a bit, I seem to notice other people I encounter harbouring a similar grudge against Old Man Winter this year. The stooped shoulders and mummy-like wrappings of scarves and toques displayed by my fellow downtown pedestrians as a brace against the weight of the frigid sky are a tangible sign of our shared loathing of this continued assault on the senses.

I do take heart at the longer days, though. As I plodded home recently I noticed it wasn't dark as I rounded the last corner on the street where I live. I also heard the other day some lively chickadees chirping in a hedge, which gave me pause to consider warmer, sunnier days ahead. I'm not so arrogant an optimist to think we'll all be sipping cocktails on the patio anytime soon, but maybe, just maybe, the worst is behind us.

So if you're struggling a bit with the winter that seemingly won't end, take heart in the fact that March begins in a few days. And the beginning of spring (technically, at least) is only a few short weeks off. And while I don't recommend a trip to the corner store in Bermuda shorts and flip-flops just yet, go ahead and shake your fist at a snowbank or leafless deciduous, as if to say "I've got your number winter - and it's almost up!"

Take care and keep the faith. Spring is indeed not far off...