All Things Must Pass

In 1964, when I was nine years old, I had my share of heroes. Certainly, all the adults in my life, particularly my dad and mom, were heroes. And, like so many young boys, I turned to world of sports for other heroes. Hockey and football, baseball and Olympic athletes were somehow exotic to me, because I never saw them in person, only by the flickering shadows of black and white television. Emerging from that eternal pantheon was one hero, who stood out bolder and more majestic: perhaps strangely, that hero was a horse.

Northern Dancer was the premier stallion of his day. He emerged from relative obscurity to capture the imagination of an entire nation. He was small, judged to be unfit for the furious and tumultuous world of thoroughbred racing. And, to underscore the point, he was Canadian. No Canadian horse had ever dominated the world stage before. When the Dancer prepared to race in the 1964 Kentucky Derby, the conventional wisdom was that he would be soundly defeated. He had only run in Canadian races prior to the Derby in May of that year. The greatest jockey of that time, Willie Shoemaker, passed him over in favour of the American champion, Hill Rise.

The rest, of course, is history. The Dancer defeated Hill Rise and the rest of the field to win the Derby with Bill Hartack aboard. The Dancer would go on to win at the Preakness, with Hill Rise fading to third. There was no victory in the Belmont Stakes, only a third place. But in Canada's premier event, the Queen's Plate, the Dancer decimated the field and won handily. It was to be his last race: injury forced him to retire and stand as stud, where he went on to become the most profolic and successful sire in modern times.

I remember cheering for the Dancer and, later, all his progeny. His home stable, Windfields Farms became a kind of sporting vallhalla for all Canadians. Whether you played the ponies or just watched, there was something magical, something proud for all of us to know that a Canadian, albeit a four-legged Canadian, had defied the odds and beaten not only the Americans, but the entire world on their own turf, on their own terms. The little horse with the big heart, owned by a larger than life, geniune Canadian tychoon, E.P. Taylor, and bred on a quiet farm north of Oshawa, had turned the world on its head.

Now, Windfields Farms is no more. Subdivisions are already encroaching on the green grass where the Dancer and his herd galloped under blue skies and bright suns. A university and college are its largest neighbours, and the demand for housing for students who have never heard of the Dancer, are eating up the turf the way the Dancer did in that glorious summer of 1964. Beyond the schools, suburban houses give modern residents a small share of the Canadian dream. It is all so modern, so cookie-cutter, so sprawling. All that remains of the fields of dreams are the main buildings, a few barns, including the one where the Dancer was born in 1961, and graves of some of the greatest athletes Canada has ever produced. The Dancer himself, who died at the ripe old age of 29 in 1990 in Kentucky is there. Such was the respect the nation had for him that we brought him home and buried him at Windfields. He lies there still, along with some of his sons and grandsons.

As the news of the fate of the remaining parcels of land at Windfields, and the remaining horses there, became known, one of the Dancer's decendants, Careless Jewel, was racing in the Breeder's Cup in the US. Careless Jewel is a fine horse, but she suffers a tendency to drift in the race, to lose focus. At the start of the race, Careless Jewel began to drift, but she was brought back by the jockey, Robert Landry, and actually led the race by 20 lengths at one point. But the drift set in again, and the carrier of the Dancer's genes faded, only to finish dead last.

The wrecking balls will swing, the bulldozers will rumble over the green land soon, and the Farm will pass. Careless Jewel lost the race, but the blood line will go on. When the development is complete, I think I'll go back to Oshawa to see what is left of the Farm. I'll get out of my car and stand where I remember fences kept the road away from the herd, and I'll imagine the Dancer arrogantly surveying his domain: probably on some stranger's front lawn on a nameless cul-de-sac.

The Pride and The Glory

One of the basic human urges is to compete, to test oneself against an opponent, to strive against the limits of one's body and spirit. The basic competitive urge compels us to seek food, defend ourselves against preditors or aggressors, and to find the best mates to continue the species. As we have evolved and developed civilizations and societies, the urge to compete has taken on the aspect of spectator sport and entertainment, along side the basic instinct to survive, compete, and to live.

Those who do not enjoy or understand the allure of playing or watching sports have, in my view, lost something important in their lives. Granted we do not need the basic urge to survive any more, unless we are caught in exceptional circumstances. Modern life grants us food, water, medical care, shelter and companionship in great abundance. But if life was merely to be measured in the basic necessities to survive, our whole purpose would be simply to exist, to live in a daily exercise of obtaining that which we require to draw breath. What would happen to our humanity, our very souls, if we denied the beauty, the nobility, the exhilaration of achieving high levels of accomplishment?

Thus, we have reached a sophisticated and high level of competition. We aspire to push ourselves to greater heights, faster speeds, marvels of strength and agility because it makes us god-like and helps us aspire to something greater than simple survival.

But there is in sports, as in all aspects of human endeavour, examples of how this lofty ideal has become debased. Greed, avarice, cheating, egotism and cynicism have crept into what should be a pure and ideal practice. Non-sports fans point to current professionalism as examples of how humanity has gone wrong, and how priorities have been turned upside-down.

When an example of the purity and nobility of sport arrives, it is worth note. The recent Yates Cup football game between Queen's University Golden Gaels and the University of Western Ontario Mustangs last weekend stands out as a beacon of hope for all of us. The game was a work of art: two powerful and sublimely gifted teams, evenly matched, gathered for a game of supreme importance. Two talented quarterbacks, playing their last game of university football , prepared to duel. Two coaching staffs hailed as learned and visionary strategists and tacticians brought their creations to the playing field. The weather was almost perfect for the struggle.

Those of us who gathered on Saturday November 14 in Kingston to witness this game saw something more than just a good football game. We were reminded, in no small way, of the greatness of the human spirit when it is applied to a task of extreme skill and difficulty. The game was noble, inspiring and enriching. We marvelled at the athletes, extended to the very limits of their strength, spirit, speed, and intelligence, and stared in disbelief at their exploits. When one team made a great play, the opposing team answered with a greater effort. The lead changed hands no fewer than seven times. The quarterbacks, Dan Brannigan for Queen's and Michael Faulds for Western, passed for more than 500 yards each, an amazing feat in a championship game. Queen's finally prevailed 43-39: the partisan crowd was whipped into a frenzy of elation and joy.

But, tellingly, there was no gloating or trash talk among the athletes. They gathered together to salute each other with handshakes and embraces. Opponents who, moments ago, were trying to exert physical and emotional control and mastery over the other, recognized each other as brothers who had participated in something special. Queen's players and coaches rejoiced and danced on the field: Western players quietly exited the field, their heads held high, beaten that day, but not really defeated.

My friends, Rick and Dave, and I realized as we left the stadium and relaxed for some food and beer that this was the true measure of sports. There was no sordid arrogance in the game. We toasted both teams and to the pride and glory of the fine young men who showed us what we all could be.

How to Save the NHL, Part 2, A Tale of Two Teams

As an example of how my proposal of setting up a relegation-promotion system for the NHL might prove successful, I offer a "tale of two teams."

The Toronto Maple Leafs of the NHL is one of the oldest and most established teams in that league. It has known its share of success over the years, and still has the second most Stanley Cups in league history, shared with the Detroit Red Wings, and trailing only the Montreal Canadiens. Even if you are not a fan of the NHL, you know of the Maple Leafs. Sadly, you probably know more of the futility of their recent history. Since 1967, the Leafs have not won a championship, which makes their accomplishments all the more impressive in their first 40 or so years of history. The recent 42 years ( and counting ) is an embarrassment.

The Leafs are, despite their poor record, an immensely popluar team. Although claims of being "Canada's team" may be exaggerated, there is no disputing the fact that Leafs fans exist across the continent, and show up in impressive numbers at other teams' home games. This loyalty has made the Leafs a relatively rich team, financially, and causes them to be the subject of an inordinate amount of media coverage, certainly more than their woeful performance would seem to justify.

Critics of the Leafs, and there are many, point to this financial and media success as the reason for the on-ice futility. The argument goes that, as long as the building is packed, as long as merchandise is eagerly bought, as long as the media continues to broadcast their games and keep them in a high profile, the Leafs do not have to compete as fiercely as lesser teams, who frantically struggle to get a share of the attention of media and fans against great competition.
This lack of a "survivor" mentality has caused the Leafs to get fat and complacent. It is hard to argue against this logic.

Consider now the case of Newcastle United. This team shares many characteristics with the Toronto Maple Leafs. United play in a city full of rabid fans who worship the team and its players. United has a storied history, beginning as a top flight team in 1892, and having won the FA Cup six times. Like the Maple Leafs, however, United's last championship was in the distant past, 1927. Despite this futile record, United supporters, known as the "Toon Army" fill St. James' Park in huge numbers: crowds of more than 50,000 for Premiership games are routine.

Last year, the on-going futility of United resulted in relegation to the Football League Championship, which is a second-tier league below the Premiership. It was a terrible blow to the Toon Army, but they continue to come out to support their team, with crowds of 35,000 to over 40,000 in attendance.

The similarities of both teams is eerie. Both have loyal fans, and command much media attention. They have both suffered through poor ownership, bad management, over-rated coaches and players, and bad luck.

Where they differ is their situation in their leagues. The Leafs continue along much as they always do: languishing in the bottom of the league, full of bluster about how they will improve and compete... some day, yet still drawing huge crowds of adoring fans. Nothing, it seems, will shake them out these doldrums.

United, on the other hand, have suffered relegation and diminished crowds as a result of the demotion. The result.... United is tearing it up in the second league. They sport the best record in that league, and entertain hopes of promotion for next year. In other words, they have something to gain, something to prove, something to play for. It could be argued, of course, that they are merely the best of a bad lot, and will continue to flounder in the better league next season. That is not the point. The point is that at least they have something to strive for, and something to offer their current fans. Hope reigns eternal in Geordieland: there is always a mythical promised land where the Magpies will eventually become one of the Premiership's top teams. They are actually playing towards that goal.

With the Leafs, it is a hollow hope. There is no sign of change or improvement any time soon. Perhaps a relegation into an imaginary NHL 2 would give them a type of incentive to actually try to improve. There is no substitute for fear of not surviving to make a team re-invent itself.

The time has come for the Leafs to operate like it won't survive unless it changes its fundamental beliefs, plans, and actions.

How to Save the NHL

I have several good friends with whom I meet regularly at a philosophical insitution known as the Grey Goat. We discuss several of the burning issues of the day at this hall of learning. As proud Canadians ( well, some of us anyway ) we are concerned about the state of the National Hockey League. Since several of my colleagues are from the British Isles ( including myself ) there is a way to save the NHL from a continuation of the flaccid play we have been subjected to. I have taken the opportunity here to offer a summary of our modest proposal for hockey salvation.

The NHL is currently organized in this way. There are thirty teams, twenty-four of which are based in the United States and six are in Canada. The league is divided into two conferences, East and West, consisting of fifteen teams each. Within each conference are three divisions of five teams. The divisions are organized along rough geographic lines, and done so to allow more games between divisional teams, creating more rivalries, and cutting down on travel costs. The playoffs involve the three divisional champions, regardless of their records, getting the top seeds, followed by the next five finishers, based on their records in the regular season. Teams play off in three conference rounds, with the conference champions going for the Stanley Cup.

The current structure is moribund. It does not create a competitive edge for the member teams. Instead, mediocrity abounds. The time for a change is now.

We humbly suggest that the NHL borrows the structure of the English Football Association and create a type of "premiership" and a relegation-promotion system in order to boost the competitive edge for the teams in the NHL.

We suggest that the NHL create two leagues. Let's call them, for the sake of argument, NHL 1 and NHL 2.

NHL 1 would consist of the 15 top teams in the league. There would be no divisional or conference organization: the league would be a single entity. NHL 2 would consist of the lower 15 teams in the league.

In NHL 1 the top 8 teams would qualify for playoff action. These teams would play three rounds of playoffs, with the winner receiving the highest honour in hockey: the Stanley Cup.

In NHL 2 the top 8 teams would also qualify for playoff action. These teams would play three rounds of playoffs, with the winner receiving one of the lesser trophies in the NHL. ( Prince of Wales Trophy, the President's Cup, the Clarence Campbell Cup, whatever.)

In the post season, the league would insitute a relegation-promotion process. The four lowest teams in NHL1, the teams who had the worst record in that league, would be relegated to NHL 2 for the following season. The four teams making the semi-finals in NHL 2 would be promoted into NHL 1 for the following season.

The NHL entry draft, which is the draft of qualifying junior or college players would be based on the following order:

- the 4 teams promoted from NHL 2 to NHL 1 would receive the first 4 picks, based on a lottery

- the 8 teams making the playoffs in NHL 1 would receive the next 8 picks, based on a lottery

- the 11 teams remaining in NHL 2 would receive the next 11 picks, based on a lottery

- the remaining teams would receive the next picks, based on a lottery

We believe this system would encourage teams to finish as high as they could in their respective leagues. We also believe that teams in the playoff structures would be given incentives to win, not just for the championships of their leagues, but for the best available draft choices.

Relegation-promotion works well in the English FA. We believe it will work as effectively in the NHL.

Hockey fans are encouraged to offer their input on this proposal.

Our second suggestion is for hockey to suspend operations forever, and take up lacrosse.

Who Cares?

Prince Charles and his consort, Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, are due to arrive in Canada today to begin an 11 day royal visit. It is, apparently, his 15th visit, but her first. He is anxious, the newspapers say, to show off Canada to his new wife because of the great affection he feels to Canada and Canadians.

I suggest that, if Charles really wants to show off Canada to Camilla, he should take her to a lacrosse game. Preferrably in a dank, small-town arena in, say, Orangeville or on the Six Nations Reserve. After the game, they could head off to a Kelsey's or Jack Astor's for some nachos and beers, being very carefull to have a designated driver. Then, when they're home or at their hotel, they could settle in for good night of watching the Rick Mercer Report or the very unfunny This Hour Has 22 Minutes. The next morning, when they're off for another round of sight seeing, they should be sure to start their day with large double-doubles and maybe a pumpkin spice muffin or a breakfast BELT under their belts. Ahhh, now that's Canada.

Seriously, though, should any of us care about this? The fact that these two people are to become my sovereigns in the future makes me cringe. Does Canada need the British monarchy any more? I know all about our British heritage and the fact that our government is modelled after British institutions. But haven't we outgrown that in 2009? The monarchy has as much revelence as teaching modern high school students the proper use of a slide rule: it was once necessary, but , now, who needs to have it?

I have no problems with Charles or Camilla themselves. I've always liked Charles. When he was a young guy, he came across as a type of "action man". He always liked sports, travel, and dating good looking women... and he got paid for it !!! Today, he comes across as slightly eccentric, but he seems to care about such things as the environment, the state of cities in Britain, the state of youth in the world, and sustainable and environmentally friendly farming. Nothing wrong with all that. And, as for Camilla, well we all know that she was the "other woman", but the fact is that she made Charles fall out of love with Diana ( if he ever was in love with her at all ) and, for that, Camilla deserves some credit. I mean, come on, Diana was a sweetheart, but Camilla found her way into Charles' bed and heart, presumably because of her love of horses. To this, I say "giddyup"!

Nor do I have a problem with the fact that they are British. Hell, I'm British by birth, and I still have wonderful aunts, uncles and cousins with their children living in Britain. I like my British heritage, but the essential thing is that I no longer need it to identify myself. I am a Canadian citizen, have been since I was 18, and I'm extremely proud of that. I tell my British relatives that I am a Canadian, and they understand that. I have British friends here, and at our local pub, we tease each other about the fact that I'm a "traitor" to my British roots, but we laugh it off. I have traveled to, literally, all parts of Canada, including 2 trips to the Canadian Arctic. I love this country and I will die here and be buried here. I don't need Britain any more.

So, Charles and Camilla will hopefully understand why the crowds might be a little small when they travel across Canada. We've grown up, we are our own country, comprised of several nations. If we need a monarchy to guide us, can we not at least chose one? I humbly suggest that we invite the Swedish royal family to rule us. The next Queen of Sweden will be Princess Victoria, and her sister is Princess Madeleine. They are a couple of kittens, and I think Canada would be proud to have them as our royal family.

So, when Charles and Camilla land today, I suggest we shout three cheers for them: Hip hip, who cares? Hip hip, who cares? Hip hip, who cares?

Shame !

Sports teaches several lessons. We are all geared to celebrate victory, but I've always believed that the true measure of athletic greatness is how an athlete or team carries him/themselves during the contest. Winning is best, to be sure: otherwise, why keep score? But if victory is not within reach, at least comport yourself with grace, dignity and effort. Losing can be a noble experience, one from which an athlete can learn so much, about the game, themselves, and life itself.

Today, in Waterloo, my wife and I witnessed what can only be described as an example of how not to comport oneself in defeat. My alma mater, the University of Western Ontario Mustangs, took on the Wilfrid Laurier Golden Hawks in CUFLA lacrosse. It was a glorious afternoon, warm and sunny and the field was ready for two teams who have been great rivals in athletics through the years. In today's contest, Western was already in the playoffs, while Laurier was eliminated from further competition. One would think that, since this was Laurier's last home game, and many parents of the players were in the stands, and since they were playing their great rivals, Laurier would at least bring a good effort and approach to the game.

Sadly, this was not the case. To be fair, Western was, by far, the better team. That is not the issue. The issue here is the way Laurier comported themselves. Several Laurier players arrived at their bench after the opening whistle. There was much laughter and banter among the Laurier players, normally a good thing, but as the game went on, the Laurier players seemed to be laughing at everything that went on, including plays by their own players. One Laurier player, who wore a different coloured helmet from his mates, was referred to as the "Stormtrooper" by his teammates, who used this phrase laughingly.

When Laurier's coach called time outs, and tried to gather his charges into a huddle to discuss what to do next, the players were lax, did not gather in a huddle, and joked with their mates. One player left the playing area, went under the stands and returned minutes later with a can of pop !! This was while the game was on-going. One other player sought out his parents, who were on the track with their family dog: the player left the bench area and played with his dog for several seconds before returning to the bench.

By contrast, Western's players were focused and engaged in the game. They LOOKED like a team, encouraged each other, and listened to their coaches. Their uniforms matched, and they drilled before the game like a team.

It's easy to criticize a losing team. That is not what I'm writing about here. I understand losing: after all, I'm a Leafs, Argos, and Jays fan. What I find most upsetting is the way some teams lose. If a team doesn't care, why show up? Why play the game? Why embarass yourself? And, most importantly, why disrespect your school, your colours, and the game itself?

My good friend Rick, who is a staunch Laurier fan, was not at the game. I'm glad. As a Western fan, I'd take a lot of pleasure in ribbing him for a Laurier defeat. But not today. I'd sympathise with him, for he'd be terribly unhappy with these kids, and I mean "kids" in the truest sense of the word, for representing his school in a manner unbecoming of Wilfrid Laurier University.

One wonders if any lessons were learned today. For me, I learned that there can be grace in victory, but also that there can be boredom and disrespect in athletes who might otherwise claim to love the game.

Buddies, Beer, Wings and Pucks

I've been told that drinking beer and eating chicken wings is very bad for you. Too much cholesterol and fat in the wings. Too spicy. Too many calories in the beer. Alcohol is very bad: it's an addictive substance.

I've been told that driving long distances is bad. Bad for the environment, wear and tear on the car, gas prices through the roof. Always a chance of an accident, always the chance of bad weather. Too many aggravations.

I've been told that watching sports is bad. You do nothing but sit around and get fat, or drive long distances only to sit in an arena built with tax dollars which should've been allocated for something more worthwhile. Sitting there cheering on over-paid athletes whose egos and salaries are out of touch with real working people.

I've been told that gambling is bad. You waste money. You pin your hopes on an outcome that is improbable at best, and impossible at worst. It brings out a strange competitive streak that is not based on anything you have accomplished. It wrecks friendships and ruins families.

I've been told that you can't go back to the past. It's impossible, and besides that, why would you want to? The past is the past, it can't be recaptured. You have to move on, build for the future, keep your eyes front on what's coming. Going back to the past is for old people, those with no vision, no energy, no hope.

If all this is true, then why did I have such a good time last weekend with my good friends Doug and Dean? All I did was eat wings ( and another Buffalo delicacy: fried balony sandwich: don't knock it until you try it !), drink beer, drive long distances ( NOT while drinking, I wish to emphasize ), complete the 33rd edition of our hockey pool, watch a good NHL game between the Buffalo Sabres and the Atlanta Thrashers, and spend a great deal of time reminiscing of our old days back at Western.

I must be crazy. I'll never do these things again. I mean, why repeat this behaviour? It's absurd and childish. Except that, when next fall rolls around again, I know that those two guys and I will get this unexplainable urge to meet up and do all these bad things. It makes the rest of the year go well: it makes our lives a little more fun and little less serious. It keeps us young. It keeps us alive.