No Business

Photo credit https://habsterix.com

It was the news I didn't want to hear. Veteran Montreal Canadiens defenceman Andrei Markov would not be returning to the team.

Damn.

While we don't know the exact details of the negotiations, the organization and media tell us it was mostly to do with money. I'm not angry with General Manager Marc Bergevin or Andrei Markov. These things are complicated, pros and cons must be carefully weighed on both sides. I believe that for both parties the situation was difficult, balancing the pressures of managing a team and a player considering his personal needs and a career at a crossroads. In the end it was a decision that had to be made.

'Hockey is a business' is the cliché phrase trotted out for these occasions. As fans we're supposed to nod submissively as we acknowledge the cold, hard reality those words convey. After a near half-century of hearing that statement repeated time and again, I can say with conviction that it is simply not true.

The connection fans have to professional sports doesn't come close to the typical consumer/product relationship. Rightly or wrongly, those who choose to support a team develop a unique kinship with the players, coaches, and yes even management. In particular, a franchise like the Montreal Canadiens, with a history so rich and storied, hockey is far more than a business.

If you have lived in Montreal for any period of time, you would be keenly aware of how pervasive Canadiens hockey is in the city's culture. Those who live outside of Montreal also feel a deep connection to the team and the city, as do many fans of many franchises in professional sports. In Canada, hockey is personal, it's emotional, it's intimately connected to our own unique history and the relationships that form around it. It is part of our national psyche, a link that binds communities, generations and all that has passed before.

The Montreal Canadiens organization not only embraces the team's history and its deep connection to fans, they cultivate it with pomp and ceremony that borders on sacred ritual. The legend and lore that is an intrinsic quality of Habs fandom even extends to players and coaches, who frequently acknowledge that being part of the organization is something unique and special. Ask just about anyone who supports the team, or is associated with the organization, to define the greatness of the Montreal Canadiens, pretty far down the list would be successful business model.

Andrei Markov will not be returning to the team.

It hurts because it's supposed to hurt. He meant something to us, just like all the other players who have come and gone from the Canadiens roster throughout our personal history with the team. Even when we understand that tough decisions have to be made, don't try to minimize it with a trite cliché like 'hockey is a business.' You and I both know it means more than that, and yes you are completely entitled to feel bad.

Damn.

Our Common Thread

Do you remember the first hockey game you ever watched? I can't think a specific game, but I do remember the era that captured my imagination. Like millions of Canadians, I grew up watching Hockey Night in Canada every Saturday night with my family. In the pale blue glow of a black and white television, with a screen not much larger than a small pizza box, we watched our hockey heroes take on their rivals. We listened to Danny Gallivan calling the play-by-play like a run-on sentence punctuated by improvised hyperbole like 'a cannonating shot.' Dick Irvin would chime in with astute observations of action the cameras missed, usually spotting an altercation long before it began. He referred to post-whistle scrums as 'the gathering of the clan.' Between periods, Dave Hodge would attempt to pry analysis from sweat-soaked players, who in turn would spew the same sports clichés we've heard since the dawn of intermission interviews. Win or lose, when the broadcast was done, the credits would roll and pro hockey was done for the week.

For me, things really changed in 1972. It's difficult to explain the impact of the Summit Series in the context of today's 24/7 sports media cycle. The series transfixed an entire nation unlike anything I had experienced before. In our modest suburban community it was all anyone talked about, and it wasn't even hockey season. I remember being in elementary school once the series shifted to Soviet Russia. Televisions were wheeled into classrooms as the series supplanted schoolwork. Perhaps the teachers thought this was a good way for students to experience a moment in history. They weren't wrong. Paul Henderson's game winning goal is still the stuff of legend, but on a grander scale, how the series captivated Canadians, and legions of young hockey fans like myself, was truly remarkable.

Hockey is a thread that links me to childhood. Watching the game stirs up memories of those distant Saturday nights. My mother offering up gentle encouragement to players from the corner a sofa. Holding my father's hand as we navigated the narrow halls of the Forum. My brother leaping from his seat at an overtime victory. The joy, the excitement, the sense of togetherness, those are the things that define the game for me.

Lately I've felt we've drifted away from what the game means to us. There is a creeping cynicism in the fandom of professional hockey that has soured the experience. Rivalries have grown vitriolic and hateful. Dedicated fans have become bitter critics, attacking players, coaches and management. Some in the media have shifted their analysis from what they see to what they think, producing agenda-driven opinion pieces designed to stir up rancour. It's easy to get caught up in the swirl of argumentative sniping, particularly when disagreements turn derisive and ugly.

It wasn't always this way. It shouldn't be this way.

I grew up in Montreal during the Canadiens many Stanley Cup championships. I've been to games at the legendary Forum and cheered in the streets at a Stanley Cup parade. As a fan of hockey, I've been extraordinarily blessed, but the thing about that '72 series was how the game united us. It didn't matter which team you supported, or where you lived, it was all about the hockey.

My parents have been gone for many years now. My brother died tragically in 1986, the year the Canadiens won their 23rd Stanley Cup. He was 23.

We can't bring back the past, but we can preserve those things that made it special. Considering all that is happening in the world today, I can't think of a better time to see the game the way we saw it when we first became a fan. Bring back the joy. Bring back the excitement. Bring back the togetherness. Hockey is the thread that links us to our past, and unites us all.

Let's Go

Photo credit Francois Lacasse / NHLI via Getty Images

The lights are dim. Empty stands echo silence save for the muffled clang of a closing door and the whisper of vented air. The stillness is heavy with silent anticipation. A fresh sheets of ice awaits.

History looms heavy over Centre Bell for the players who slip on a jersey that is both new and as old as the game itself. They will carve the ice with blades of gleaming steel and bask in the glow of hometown adulation and echoes of voices silenced by the passing of time. They will grasp and raise a torch, light enough for strong hands, but laden with the weight of past glories and future aspirations.

Anxious spectators far and wide will bind their dreams of greatness to those blessed with extraordinary skills and steadfast determination to rise to this challenge. An elderly fan will don a threadbare jersey for another in an untold number of seasons. A child will don a jersey for the first in an untold number of seasons to come. Records will be set. Records will be broken. Heroes will rise. Heroes will falter. Those passed will live again.

Honouring history and embracing the future falls equally upon the shoulders of those who charge fearlessly into the blinding spotlight. They seek inspiration from the past and in a multitude of voices unified in a common dream. They will fortify themselves against the strength of adversaries, the derision of cynics and the murmurs of self doubt. Eyes locked with rivals and demons alike in the pursuit of a dream that began with their first tentative steps onto fresh ice.

History looms heavy for those that slip on the jersey of the Montreal Canadiens, but greatness is not defined by the achievements of the past. Greatness can only be found in the relentless pursuit of excellence. What matters now, what has always mattered, is the history yet to be written.

Let the ice be carved by blades of gleaming steel. Let the multitude of voices rise. Let rivals face off. Let dreams of greatness be fulfilled.

In the stillness heavy with silent anticipation, a fresh sheet of ice awaits. History waits.

Drop the puck. Let's go.

The Conversation

Back in June, I began a prolonged hiatus from Twitter. To be honest, it wasn't a complete withdrawal, I did check my feed from time to time, but for all intents and purposes I was out of the conversation. While taking a step back from social media can hardly be considered a profoundly meaningful exercise, I do feel the experience was beneficial.

The break was prompted by an elevation in the level of vitriol and personal attacks in the Twitter community. I had also grown weary of the multitude of opinions disguised as fact, based on assumptions, speculation and selective information, sometimes from established members of the media. It seems that spewing invective and expounding wild-eyed theories has become the new normal of our public discourse.

Twitter can be a virtually limitless source of interesting and amusing content, but for me, Habs' Twitter was my favourite online community. Engaging with a wide range of fans and media who share a common interest was informative and entertaining. Over the course of the past year however, the passions of this community had boiled over into a divisive stream of consciousness marked by vitriolic personal attacks at users, Habs players and management. It was as if spewing invective and expounding wild-eyed theories had become the new normal of public discourse. There were those who chose a more reasoned and thoughtful perspective, but sadly those voices were often drowned out by a cacophony of rhetoric.

Twitter's inherent flaw is that thoughtful analysis can rarely be summed up in 140 characters or less, but brash outbursts of anger, ignorance and spite fit nicely, with room to spare. As with similar social media channels, Twitter can represent the best and worst elements of society, but when the latter spills over into the realm of fandom it devalues the experience for everyone.

The time away from Twitter allowed me to reflect on the value of relationships formed through social media. Are those interactions really any different than those we experience face-to-face? All social engagements, regardless of the forum, should be founded on the principal of mutual respect and understanding if they are to have any value at all. In a constructive conversation, people can differ in opinion and maintain civility. Healthy communication goes far beyond sharing ideas with like-minded individuals, it also requires an openness to explore alternative viewpoints that serve to expand knowledge and understanding.

I have considered that stepping out of the conversation means one fewer voice to counter a sea of negativity and derision. I do wonder if the forum itself is simply a magnet for voices of bluster and scorn, but perhaps that is only true if we allow it to be so.

So, with a modicum of trepidation, I wade back into the fray, though I do so with a proviso. I choose not to engage with those who resort to demeaning personal attacks or those who distort facts to further a narrow viewpoint. Such things undermine healthy conversations and do not belong in any social forum. There will be moments to celebrate and lament, with an assortment of diverse opinions and perspectives, but the best part of the Habs' Twitter community will always be the relationships grown from connecting to fans of one of the greatest franchises in hockey.

Go Habs, Go.

Courage Over Violence

The annual World Junior Hockey tournament will kick off on Boxing Day and the IIHF (International Ice Hockey Federation) gets another chance to showcase its brand of hockey to fans around the world.

IIHF rules differ from the NHL in a number of ways, but three stand out immediately. Zero tolerance for head shots, fighting and goaltender interference. Regardless of circumstance, a head shot results either in a minor penalty with a 10 minute misconduct or 5 minute major plus a game misconduct and often a one-game suspension. Fighting costs a team a 5 minute major with a game misconduct and possible a one-game suspension. As for goaltender interference, play can be stopped for merely standing in the crease.

Despite what some might consider restrictive enforcement of these rules, World Junior Hockey is easily the most entertaining, face-paced and hard-hitting brand of hockey you will ever watch. Audiences for this tournament have grown at a rapid pace over the 25-year span that Canadian cable sports network TSN began covering the event. Outside of national pride, its entertainment value alone is the main reason why people tune in.

Yet somehow this formula seems completely lost on the world's most watched ice hockey league, the NHL. So far this season, the league's lack of enforcement on rules governing player protection are an indication of a regression from previous years. Fans have witnessed more than a few uncalled head shots and it's been open season on goaltenders. Sports broadcasters still glorify fighting in their highlight packages, and we still hear the stoneage argument that we need bigger players to protect a team's stars.

It's time to call bullshit on this tacit acceptance and promotion of violence once and for all. The arguments are so old, so tired and so immature that it's actually becoming painful to read and hear. The evidence for the long-term effects of concussions is already out there and ignoring it doesn't make one right. In fact, all of the acts of violence I have cited thus far are against the rules in the NHL, but the league still lacks the courage to properly enforce them.

Sidney Crosby is one concussion away from ending a spectacular career and Carey Price is one net-crash away from the league losing one of the best goaltenders in their history. This seems to matter little to the NHL who would much rather kowtow to rubbernecking cretins, who've never come close to having 220 pounds of muscle come at them with sharpened skate blades, let alone endured a blow to the head from a fist the size of a Christmas ham.

The problem is, officials do not have the means to control the escalation of violence in a game because their punitive effect is negligible. A minor penaltly for running a goalie or an elbow to the head won't stop anyone from attempting to do it again. And can we please stop with these gray-area rules? Enough with debating about intent. Nobody asks when a player is tripped if the offender meant to do it (sometimes they didn't), such an argument is irrelevant to officials. Same should be true for contact with the head or running a goalie. At the professional level a player should know how to check without impacting the head or have to be told that goaltenders are vulnerable.

And for all the advocates of fighting, read this slowly and several times until you understand: Concussions result from a single, or repeated blows to the head. The long-term effects can be devastating. It is not okay.

It cannot be overstated that a serious or fatal injury will eventually occur because of something preventable and the league will have no choice but to take action to save face. Pretending this is not an eventuality is both ignorant and cowardly.

In many ways the NHL are the stewards of ice hockey. As such, they have a responsibility not only to protect and preserve the game, but to make it better. Continued inaction only serves to demonstrate that the NHL values greed over it's own players. I can only hope they wake up to this reality before it's too late.

Hockey at the Centre

Twenty years ago, in March of 1996, Centre Bell (then Centre Molson) swung open its doors to a new generation of Montreal Canadiens fans.

If you grew up in an era when the Montreal Forum was the physical and spiritual home of the Habs, you probably never quite warmed up to its replacement. Certainly the pitiful way in which the old facility was gutted to accomodate an ill-conceived retail and entertainment centre didn't do much to endear old-school Canadiens fans to the new building.

Twenty years on, Centre Bell has developed its own unique character that deserves recognition and appreciation. Credit is due in large part to the Montreal Canadiens organization who have used the building as a showcase for the team's storied history. Everywhere you turn there are reminders of the organization's past glories and what it has meant to the city it calls home. Credit is also due to the architects who had the foresight to design the lower bowl seating as a virtual duplicate of the Forum's red seat section, something that lends an authenticity to the building itself, but also provides an intimacy that few modern arenas offer.

Though it has been twenty years, fans and media still talk about the ghosts of the old Forum, with whimsical musings about whether said spirits have at last commuted down the road to Centre Bell. In many ways, the organization itself has played up this mythology with ceremonial torches, film tributes and montages set to inspirational music that borders, at times, on religious fervor. For me, the ghosts are just a metaphor for those clinging so tightly to the past they cannot appreciate the history being made today.

As with many NHL arenas, watching a hockey game at Centre Bell is often a bombastic audio/visual assault on the senses. Certainly that wasn't the case in the era of the old Forum, but that was a different time. Let's face it, even if the old building were still around, you can be assured it would kitted out with a comparable sound and light show. Though much has changed, when Centre Bell's pipe organ starts chiming the signature 'Go Habs, Go' jingle, it feels every bit like games I attended as a child. I did so with my father at my side, watching wide-eyed as my hockey heroes dashed and darted and battled their way to victory.

With deep appreciation to an exceedingly generous family friend, I get to attend more than my fair share of Habs games. I know that the experience my son enjoys is very different from my own, but I cannot help but think that Centre Bell will mean as much to him as the old Forum does for me. These are his hockey heroes and this is his hockey shrine. When I look around the building, see the faces, hear the cheers and jeers, I sense not only the spirit of Canadiens fans, but also the soul of Montreal, vibrant, ecclectic and alive. My home.

Happy belated 20th birthday Centre Bell. Here's to all the memories to come.

Confidence Game

Last Friday the Montreal Canadiens 10 game regulation winning streak came to a crashing halt with a 10-0 stinker against the Columbus Blue Jackets. For the second game in a row the Habs looked listless and it cost them.

What stood out for many was coach Michel Therrien's decision to leave goaltender Al Montoya in the net for the entire game. When most coaches would have said enough after the fifth goal, Therrien opted to let Montoya battle it out on his own.

I believe this was a terrible coaching decision for a number of reasons. Coaches generally switch goalies to hopefully stem the scoring and at least giving the team a chance to win, but also to avoid further damage to the goaltender's confidence.

We have seen how leaving a goalie in for a rout can do more that damage the psyche, it can also create an unnecessarily tense situation within the team. Goalies, like players, need to know someone has their back, and in the case of Montoya, it felt like nobody did.

Yes, it was revealed later that after the second period, when the Habs we down 8-0, that Montoya consulted with goaltending coach Stephan Waite and that the two agreed he should stick it out. I would argue it should never have even come to that. The call should have come about a third into the second period when Montoya bobbled his save and Blue Jackets Andrew Wennberg kicked in the loose puck. Though the goal was called back, it was obvious Montoya was struggling for control.

On social media the bulk of the arguments favoured Therrien's decision based largely on the fact that the Canadiens were playing back-to-back games, so bringing in Carey Price was an unnecessary risk. But why? The argument follows that Price is coming off a knee injury from last season, therefore putting him in could lead to re-injury. The failure in this logic is that every time Price steps on the ice this season he is at risk, but if you've dessimated the confidence of your backup goalie, then you have essentially created the same scenario as last season.

People have been quick to point out that Montoya should know his role and just 'suck it up' because Price is the number one, and he's a just a career backup. For an organization that speaks frequently of the importance of team unity, this logic seem counter-intuitive. What has struck me as most bothersome is how easily people were willing to dismiss the mental aspect of Montoya's experience. 

I don't have specific numbers, but we are all aware of the increased use of psychologists in professional sports. Coaches, players and media often talk about the importance of the mental game. We live in an era of growing awareness of mental health issues and how they can affect performance and even physical strength. So why are we using antiquated phrases like 'suck it up?'

I'm hopeful that Al Montoya will bounce back from this loss and be stronger for it. But there is no question in my mind that the pressure the team placed on him has the potential to be devastating. A coach's job is more than ensuring wins in the short-term, it's about player management which sometimes means protecting a player even when they think they can handle it.

We talk often about the human side of players, but then we expect them to be robotic and unfeeling when it suits our point of view. Frankly, I think it's sad that people still equate a damaged psyche with weakness, but the mental health of Al Montoya was exactly what was at stake when Michel Therrien left him fight his battle alone. And that was a terrible decision.