Labour Day weekend is the best weekend of the year. Canada Day doesn’t always fall on a weekend, and Victoria Day is still a little too chilly for fun summer things. On Labour Day weekend, you still have summer weather and longer days. It’s perfect for a final summer send-off with friends in front of a bonfire at the cottage. It’s exactly how I spent this weekend.
Labour Day also signifies the beginning of the best season of the year: Sports season. The NFL gets under way this week. Many MLB teams are in the middle of pennant races, making every game more meaningful. Most importantly, however, hockey starts ramping up.
Major junior teams have been in training camp for a few weeks now, and the KHL is well into their season. NHL teams begin their rookie tournaments at the end of this week, and not long after that training camps will start, followed by the NHL season opener one month from today.
This is one of the most exciting times of the year for me. It almost feels like there’s something missing during the dog days of summer. The hockey discussions aren’t nearly as good; you can only talk about why Jaromir Jagr hasn’t been signed so many times. My frustration with John Gibbons putting too much faith in Ryan Goins has led me to not enjoy Blue Jays games as much.
Overall, while I enjoy beach days and cottage nights, I can’t help but miss hockey.
I‘ve had the absolute privilege of playing organized hockey since I was old enough to register. I was skating at 3 years old, before I could even read. Hockey caused me to develop my first feelings of not liking school; every day spent in a classroom was a day not spent on the ice.
Saturdays were the absolute best. As a Dartmouth, Nova Scotia native, it meant getting up at 5:30, putting my gear on in a dark living room so to not wake my mom up, pulling on that Dartmouth Whalers jersey, hopping in my dad’s ’94 Ford Explorer, watching the street lights go off as we drove past the Penhorn Mall and on the way to the Shannon Park Arena for 7:00am practice. After practice, I collected my allowance for keeping my room clean all week (a modest $2), went to the canteen and got myself a blue Powerade.
Saturday nights were even better; that was when my dad and I watched Hockey Night in Canada. I didn’t get to stay up too long though, just until after a white-haired old man with a Boston terrier continuously cut off his partner multiple times after the first period. It was there that I found my first (and to this day biggest) hero, Mats Sundin. Watching him skate so smoothly around the ice, ripping backhanders better than some players shoot forehand sparked a new level of love for hockey.
As I got older the routine changed; however, the feeling stayed the same. When I hit Atom hockey the excitement changed from Saturday morning to Thursday nights, when my teammates and I battled the Cole Harbour Red Wings, or the Bedford Blues (they were the worst) at the Gray Arena. It was the first time that I had a home arena to defend. Nothing will compare to being a home team, even if I was only 11 years old.
Once I hit bantam and midget, a number of things changed. The ice times changed, the home arena changed, and most importantly my home changed. I was no longer a Dartmouth Whaler, but a Brookfield Elk. I moved away from my friends at a time when I needed them the most: in junior high. Playing hockey allowed me to meet new people, form friendships, and assimilate to my new school so fast. It was tough, but hockey made it easier.
At the same time, the Leafs were facing trials and tribulations of their own. Hamstrung by terrible “win now” moves by John Ferguson Jr., the Blue and White toiled for years, unable to get their footing under them and unable to amass prospects and draft picks. No matter what moves they made, the team always managed to end up in hockey purgatory: not good enough to make the playoffs, yet not bad enough to get a quality position at the draft lottery. The bad deals were still happening; trading Tuukka Rask for Andrew Raycroft certainly stands out as the worst. None of that mattered though; the Leafs were my team and I never stopped watching, even when my hero left.
Watching Mats Sundin suit up for the Canucks stung so much, and I might have even got a little teary-eyed with him when the Air Canada Centre paid tribute to him in his first game back. Among the many Leafs memories I have, it stands out along with that Game 1 OT goal against the Senators in 2001, using the same slapshot to score his 500th career goal against the Flames, and sadly, the Game 7 collapse of 2012-2013.
It’s now 2017; my minor hockey days are long behind me. I still play in a beer league that’s semi-competitive, with a great group of guys who just love getting on the ice. I watch hockey more than ever, thanks to modern technology and NHL Gamecentre. Most importantly, the team that’s let me down, brought me up during rough times, and taken more beatings than a dirty rug, finally shows optimism and excitement unfelt in years. Last year I walked in to the season with cautious optimism, like many fans. Were the Leafs going to be good? Was there going to be more pain? Instead, they gave us quality, exciting, and fun hockey that lasted well into April.
This NHL season feels so different from seasons past. It’s the first time I’ve truly felt confident going into the season. I’m always excited, and certainly optimistic, but never this hopeful. We have a true #1 goalie for the first time since an aging Ed Belfour. We have a coach heralded for the winning pedigree he brings in to every locker room he’s stepped foot in. We have a core group of players, all hungry and ready to climb the mountain together. Finally, we have three young superstars that will represent the face of this franchise for years to come.
So what does hockey mean to me? It’s what gets me through those tough days at the office (or when I was younger, the school). It’s the immediate sense of care-free when I walk into the locker room. It’s the countless nights spent with Dad watching Hockey Night in Canada that happens to this day. It’s the hope, excitement, optimism, and ultimate misery and frustration that comes with being a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs. It’s all so damn beautiful, and it’s only one month away.
Open Ice Hits 
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