The Fog Game redux
August 19, 2006Most NHL hockey fans of a certain age remember the 1975 Stanley Cup playoffs game between the Flyers and the Sabres, when the ice in the Aud in Buffalo was shrouded in fog. It just ain’t something you see every day, y’know?
Well, it happened at the Sarnia Sports & Entertainment Centre today, at the Sarnia Blast camp.
I finally rolled outta bed around 8am–the latest I’ve slept in for a long time. Mechanically, I got ready to go for a run–dressing in the near dark of the parents’ rec room, where I am a squatter. When I was doing some pre-run stretches on the stairs, Dad poked his head around the corner of the landing and said, “Tristan’s game is at 9.” My eyes widened. Sweet fuckety fuck, I’d forgotten that my 17-year-old nephew had been invited to Blast camp this weekend!
“Lemme have a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go!”
And quick like a bunny, I was. It wasn’t ’til we actually walked out to my car that I realized that it was raining this morning anyway. Not very conducive to running, at least as far as this sucky amateur is concerned. Obviously, it couldn’t get any more humid, and the temperature had risen probably 10 or 15 degrees from the blessedly cool mornings of the past week or so. In a word, (st)ick(y).
After a pitstop at Tim Horton’s to get my double-double, we got to the rink in plenty of time for the puck-drop. Inside, it felt like they hadn’t left the A/C on overnight or the dehumidifier had crapped out or something, and the ice surface was already starting to look decidedly indistinct. A coupla rink rats were squeegeeing the glass from the ice-side. I mopped my brow and wished I had worn shorts.
As the game wore on, it got foggier and foggier to the point where I don’t think the goalies could see the puck until it was upon them. We sure lost track of it from up in the stands. Lotsa goals were scored but who the hell could see ‘em? Not me, that’s for sure.
It seems like a long time since I’ve seen any live hockey. By the time I got home this year, my buddy Mac’s beer league was finished (his team won the championship!) and Tristan’s AAA team was on its last legs. Then he played on a spring hockey team that had about three tourneys… the most memorable one being the rather, er, colourful tournament down in Detroit–when some of both teams’ parents got into near-fisticuffs in the rink’s bar while the kids brawled on the ice. In the stands, where I was watching the game, there were some classy anti-American and anti-Canadian epithets thrown instead of punches. I just stood at the side of it all, giggling. I can’t believe (can you?!) that I kept my lip zipped during the brouhaha. I was so proud of myself (aren’t you?!).
With excitement like that, who wouldn’t love a live hockey game, eh?
Unlike some, I like to sit or stand out by the ice during a game because I crave the feeling of immediacy out there and I love the sounds of the game. The ksss ksssss of the skates cutting into the ice, the snap of the puck hitting the tape, the crunch and waow of the boards when a player is taken into them, the calls for the puck, and the slam of the bench door–you don’t get any of that if you’re sitting up in the bar having a beer. And down at ice level this morning’s game looked like something out of a dream…
…a dream of a Good Canadian Grrrl like me, that is. 
Please note: No bats were harmed during the playing of this game.
