No more crying on the lawn

Okay, Ken Dryden, I may have been cheering for you at the Liberal party leadership convention, but you ruined my life back in May 1971. It is still a bitter memory today, being reminded that one's favourite team is the only one among 28 that lost a Stanley Cup final series after being ahead 2 games to none at home. The Chicago Black Hawks just couldn't bring it to pass that year. In game 7, while ahead 2 goals to none, my favourite player Bobby Hull, the Golden Jet (father of the Golden Brett) cruised in over the opponents' blue line and let go a terrific slap shot that rang off the cross bar. Had he connected, a three-goal lead likely would have been insurmountable. Alas, the opponents tallied twice to tie the score, then the Pocket Rocket breezed around Pat Stapleton for goal number three, and that was all she wrote.

After the finish of this game, I brutally attacked the foot stool (well, it was one swift kick). Following this outburst, I made my way outdoors to the lawn where I laid down and cried. That's right, I laid down on the lawn and cried. I was sixteen. My disappointment was pronouced following near misses by the Black Hawks almost every year since I was 10. Did I mention that I laid down on the lawn and cried?

I am 52 years old now, and I finally have reason to rejoice and to gloat a little. At last, my favourite NHL team has won it all. Even now I can hardly believe it. The Anaheim Ducks have won the Stanley Cup! During all those years of bearing the taunts of Duck unbelievers, I have cheered for the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim through thick and thin, from their inception in 1993. It was especially sweet to have Teemu come home last year and to share the joy this season. Ducks win!

I have a new lawn now, on a steep hill in Calgary, down which you could easily roll out onto the bumpy street. I have no more need to go cry on the lawn. Did I mention before: "Ducks win!"

Thrill of the Lifetime

We missed going to Peters' Drive-in

I had a most interesting birthday. I can kind of blame myself for that. The others here made the mistake of letting me plan the afternoon of my birthday (they took care of the rest).

With the birthday boy driving (naturally) we headed south on Centre Street from our home in Calgary and stopped at a little dim sum restaurant. We all got out and went inside where I ordered a single order of steamed shrimp dumplings to go. The clerk at the till turned around and grabbed a container and handed it to me. I handed her some change and we left. It took thirty seconds.

We enjoyed devouring the shrimp on the sidewalk, then drove further down Centre to Safeway. Here we purchased a single order of sushi that we also ate on the sidewalk. You probably get the idea where this story is going.

Having opted out of the long lineup at Peters' Drive-in, we worked our way through downtown and onto MacLeod Trail, the main drag south of the river. We enjoyed a single baked potato with cheddar and broccoli at Wendy's, then shared a single cheese and bean quesadilla and pop at Taco Bell.

After turning around and heading north on MacLeod, we stopped for poutine and onion rings at Harvey's. Then, having driven three doors up the street from there, we finished off a couple of salads at Burger King.

We all seemed a bit fatigued by the adventure, so we ended up at Dairy Queen near our home where the birthday boy shared a blizzard with his youngest daughter, while the others enjoyed Buster Bars. Seven restaurants, spending $40 in total.

My girls then prepared a sushi party supper and a couple of our friends came over to celebrate as well. We enjoyed fresh salmon, snapper, tuna, avocado and cucumber in addition to some shrimp and smoked eel and plenty of rice and nori. Later we finished the evening with DQ frozen cake. Absolutely delightful.

Anyway, that was my birthday.

Do you remember...?

... when the Green Bay Packers'

starting offensive backs and

receivers were five guys named

Antonio, Ahman, Bubba, William

and Bill?

On being extremely critical of a footballer's manager's critically wrong non-decision today

I mean, what was he thinking? Your star centre fullback comes away from the endline holding his crotch, wincing with each step and looking to the sideline for direction. And this after missing most of the previous game with a serious groin injury; and this with only a couple of minutes remaining in the first half.

The camera shifts to the famous manager in the stands who, while glancing down to the sideline, suddenly brandishes a closed fist, to signal to carry on the same for the rest of the half. What is this? Has Vince Lombardi risen from the dead to revive the play while hurt philosophy?

No retroactive hindsight here. At the time I kept admonishing the TV screen to take out the injured player. You are going to take him out at the half anyway. If you don't take him out right now, the underdog team might very well get an opportunity to score due to the defender's inability to run (or even walk properly). A goal here might result in a disastrous effect on the entire season since the favoured team is only one win ahead of its nearest rival.

Alas, the telly did not heed my advice, and lo and behold, the other team did score during (appropriately named) injury time, while our wounded star basically stood in the box as a spectator.

This report from manutd.com is puzzling: "That goal on half-time was an absolute killer for us,” Sir Alex told MUTV. “I think if Rio had been fit they wouldn't have got it. But that's the breaks in football and you have to accept these things."

Am I missing something here? The manager wants our fans to accept that the other team wouldn't have scored the tying goal if he had had a fit defender playing? That all the manager had to do was to withhold his closed fist salute at the start of injury time, and make the obvious needed change then, rather than at the half? Am I missing something here?

I found some solace later on, in the fact that our team was able to salvage a draw, which would leave them still one point ahead of the pursuer. But I still cannot understand why such a great manager would make such a bonehead non-decision in this no-brainer context.

As a hopelessly hooked fan, I will still be watching and cheering next week. Sigh.

Admiration for America by a young Canadian boy; untitled poem written circa 1966, age eleven

The British were awaiting at Boston
They were going to Concord to seize the ammunition
And Paul Revere, who was a patriot, helped find out that plot
So he saddled his horse and waited many a night
And watched the church tower for a light

And on April 18th, he saw a light, shining bright; it was midnight
Then he spread the news to
The minutemen who
Shouldered a gun
And the Revolutionary War had begun

Now Revere was a soldier all during that game
And his midnight ride had brought him fame
And this is the end of my story
So I hope that you will see
How Revere helped bring victory
And start a new country




PS: For other possibly even better poetry on this subject, you can google Paul Revere's Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Note: Illustration found at www.paulreverehouse.org/ride

The Phantom Physician

My wife and I have been blessed to find a terrific family physician (yes, two married people still make a family!) upon our move to Calgary. We have placed our collective trust in Dr. Alex. He always takes lots of time to listen to our multi-problems and to offer his wise remedies. As a bonus, he also tells good jokes (and laughs heartily himself).

Dr. Alex is only available at the Asian Medical Centre on 16th Avenue on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. That has worked fine for us until this week, when I needed to see him on a Monday. The good doctor had told us that he has a separate clinic on the southside and helps out with the busy clinic on the TransCanada twice a week.

I figured that I could contact Dr. Alex at his regular clinic to see if I could get in there on short notice. The problem was, I could not locate him or the other clinic. In the various diretories in which I searched, I could not find the clinic he mentioned in the location he mentioned. I could not even find his name in any of the various directories of Calgary physicians.

Stymied, I telephoned the Asian Medical Centre to get his phone number. However, the receptionist told me that they don't have his phone number either. Fortunately, I was granted an appointment with another doctor at the centre, on short notice.

What do we make of this doctor, the phantom whose name, number and clinic location are apparently unascertainable from Sunday to Tuesday, and Thursday and Friday. I can vouch that he does exist, but maybe on his non-Asian Medical Centre days and nights he moonlights as a caped crusader somewhere in the city, standing for truth and justice in the Calgarian way.

All I can say is: I appreciate Dr. Alex, the best kept secret in Calgary.