By Donald M. Taylor
Ice hockey is Canada’s game, it is our game, it is my game. That was true in the day, but not any more. Oh ya, we win our share of Olympic gold medals and world championships in ice hockey, but these days every team in the best league in the world is populated with Canadians, Americans, Russians, Swedes, Checks, Fins, and on and on. Still, ask any true-blooded Canadian and you would think these other countries are “posers” who simply stole the game we own. Ask me about the game and I will bore you with tales of honing my skills as a child for hours on an outdoor rink in minus twenty degree weather. I will droan on with hockey anecdotes involving on-ice fights, getting hit with pucks and being stitched up in the dressing room so as to resume playing, and endless bus rides throughout the vast Canadian hinterland to play against rival towns and cities. And I will finally, like all Canadians, end up elevating the game to the ultimate symbol of Canadian identity. It is a fast, tough, team game played in the dead of winter, across a vast desolate landscape—what could be more Canadian than that eh?