Today marked was my son's final Sunday 6:30AM practice of the season. Some of the mums met up later on for coffee, cake, and conversation,or so we claimed.
If we're really honest with ourselves, the get together was because we'll miss getting out the door and back in before the sun rises all winter long. Don't be fooled by the matching goalie pads and purse; lugging hockey bags, sticks, and juggling cups of coffee from car to dressing room isn't as glamourous as it appears.
Instead of a posse of paparazzi, the first ones at the arena are greeted by things others don't experience. The rumble of the zamboni waking from its slumber. Siblings sleepily staring at the clock. A dressing room that no longer smells like the 300 people who used it the day before. Seeing breath float over ice until they become one. Being the first set of hands to touch the door latch, springing eager kids onto glistening ice.
This group has been blessed by a fantastic group of parents. Some, like DK are larks. Some, like me, are night owls. Some, like AA, are quiet. Some, like CdlA, are just a touch louder. So many differences, so much too learn.
The most important thing learned this season is that the teacher, the nurse, the restauranteur, the angel, and the writer don't need kids playing a game as an excuse to get together.
They can talk twig and biscuit like nobody's business but it's what happens far from the ice that makes parents a team.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Hockey Is Not Life & Death
Finding out your teammates' brother had a brain tumour removed is life and death.
My son’s team is in the semi-finals so we headed to the arena full of excitement. The usual clichés were bandied about, ‘I’ll die if we don’t win’ and ‘Playoffs are do or die’ being some of them. We got a reality check in the pre-game coach’s chat.
I could tell by the look on the his face that he was in a very serious frame of mind, and thought nothing of it, because, this after all, is Minor Atom semi-finals – first team to reach four points advances to the gold medal match. What could possibly matter more than playoff hockey?
“Riley’s brother is in hospital following brain tumour surgery,” was not what anyone in that room expected to hear from our coach. We were all frozen. A week ago this boy was watching his brother play, now he was recovering from a major operation.
When the words first bounced from my eardrums into my conscience, there was nothing – nothing to think, to do, to say. I’m a writer – surely there must be words for this? No. This time, silence spoke and I did not dare to interrupt.
The game was dedicated to a little boy in hospital, the family by his side, and his brother on blades.
Riley got to wear the special jersey – number 99 – for this game. I’ve watched him play since October but today was his career game. It was a slow start for our kids, understandably so. If I couldn’t get the news out of my head, how could I expect it of them?
Something clicked and when they finally scored, the pressure was off. Those kids had put it on themselves to win, trying so hard, that for a short while, the fun was gone.
Sometimes scoring a goal goes beyond the physical sphere; sometimes it’s more than a little chunk of rubber landing it the net. Today was one of those times.
When the puck slid past the goalie, it didn’t cure a sick little boy. It didn’t magically make everything better. It did however, make 13 kids forget, for a few seconds, that maybe playing the game isn’t the most important thing.
Who you play it for, that counts for more than any names and numbers on a score sheet.
My son’s team is in the semi-finals so we headed to the arena full of excitement. The usual clichés were bandied about, ‘I’ll die if we don’t win’ and ‘Playoffs are do or die’ being some of them. We got a reality check in the pre-game coach’s chat.
I could tell by the look on the his face that he was in a very serious frame of mind, and thought nothing of it, because, this after all, is Minor Atom semi-finals – first team to reach four points advances to the gold medal match. What could possibly matter more than playoff hockey?
“Riley’s brother is in hospital following brain tumour surgery,” was not what anyone in that room expected to hear from our coach. We were all frozen. A week ago this boy was watching his brother play, now he was recovering from a major operation.
When the words first bounced from my eardrums into my conscience, there was nothing – nothing to think, to do, to say. I’m a writer – surely there must be words for this? No. This time, silence spoke and I did not dare to interrupt.
The game was dedicated to a little boy in hospital, the family by his side, and his brother on blades.
Riley got to wear the special jersey – number 99 – for this game. I’ve watched him play since October but today was his career game. It was a slow start for our kids, understandably so. If I couldn’t get the news out of my head, how could I expect it of them?
Something clicked and when they finally scored, the pressure was off. Those kids had put it on themselves to win, trying so hard, that for a short while, the fun was gone.
Sometimes scoring a goal goes beyond the physical sphere; sometimes it’s more than a little chunk of rubber landing it the net. Today was one of those times.
When the puck slid past the goalie, it didn’t cure a sick little boy. It didn’t magically make everything better. It did however, make 13 kids forget, for a few seconds, that maybe playing the game isn’t the most important thing.
Who you play it for, that counts for more than any names and numbers on a score sheet.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Merry Christmas from hockeytalkie.blogspot.com
Craciun fericit
Hristos se rodi
Kala Christouyenna!
Srozhdestvom Kristovym
Today is Christmas in the Orthodox faith, so if you're wondering why your Greek, Ukrainian, Serbian, or Romanian friends didn't show up for work, that's the reason. Chances are they're still cleaning up the mess made by 5 678 festive cousins who visited last night. For those who don't know, in many Slavic cultures, "cousin" does not solely mean "child of my parent's sibling." A more accurate translation is "I have no clue how we're actually related, if we are related, but someone's brother's cousin's grandmother in the ancestral village gave someone else's brother's cousin's grandmother a jug of Slivo one dry, hot day, back in 1789, when the oxen died and the wheels fell of the cart, so that makes us family." I'm not Orthodox but have always celebrated the holidays. In typical fashion, my Orthodox Christmas celebrations are decidedly un-orthodox. Instead of tossing a special log into the fireplace, I flip on the gas fireplace and slaughter a home-made chocolate Yule log. The Christmas Eve Monopoly marathons of my childhood are replaced by building crazy Lego creations at the kitchen table with my spawn at Orthodox Christmas. Some traditions, such as eating freshly made bread, poppy seeds and cabbage have remained. Come to think of it,no one ever wants to sit near me after I've eaten the cabbage rolls, sauerkraut soup, and coleslaw - wonder why?
Yesterday, I received the best Christmas gift ever. I've been asked to contribute an article for a prestigious publication. The scale is daunting, several interviews, 900-1200 words, quotes, but within a format. Once again, the hockey world has eased my fears. Every one has been co-operative and patient when I'm struggling for words or trying to keep track of who's on the phone.
It's funny because usually I'm the one handing out the gifts, passing around the rum balls and cookies. This year I didn't have money to go all out the way I love to do. Most people got hugs and cookies. 30 hours after this opportunity came into my life, I'm sitting at my desk, shaking my head, holding back tears, wondering what I ever gave the universe to deserve this incredible opportunity - my dream has become my reality.
Merry Christmas.
Hristos se rodi
Kala Christouyenna!
Srozhdestvom Kristovym
Today is Christmas in the Orthodox faith, so if you're wondering why your Greek, Ukrainian, Serbian, or Romanian friends didn't show up for work, that's the reason. Chances are they're still cleaning up the mess made by 5 678 festive cousins who visited last night. For those who don't know, in many Slavic cultures, "cousin" does not solely mean "child of my parent's sibling." A more accurate translation is "I have no clue how we're actually related, if we are related, but someone's brother's cousin's grandmother in the ancestral village gave someone else's brother's cousin's grandmother a jug of Slivo one dry, hot day, back in 1789, when the oxen died and the wheels fell of the cart, so that makes us family." I'm not Orthodox but have always celebrated the holidays. In typical fashion, my Orthodox Christmas celebrations are decidedly un-orthodox. Instead of tossing a special log into the fireplace, I flip on the gas fireplace and slaughter a home-made chocolate Yule log. The Christmas Eve Monopoly marathons of my childhood are replaced by building crazy Lego creations at the kitchen table with my spawn at Orthodox Christmas. Some traditions, such as eating freshly made bread, poppy seeds and cabbage have remained. Come to think of it,no one ever wants to sit near me after I've eaten the cabbage rolls, sauerkraut soup, and coleslaw - wonder why?
Yesterday, I received the best Christmas gift ever. I've been asked to contribute an article for a prestigious publication. The scale is daunting, several interviews, 900-1200 words, quotes, but within a format. Once again, the hockey world has eased my fears. Every one has been co-operative and patient when I'm struggling for words or trying to keep track of who's on the phone.
It's funny because usually I'm the one handing out the gifts, passing around the rum balls and cookies. This year I didn't have money to go all out the way I love to do. Most people got hugs and cookies. 30 hours after this opportunity came into my life, I'm sitting at my desk, shaking my head, holding back tears, wondering what I ever gave the universe to deserve this incredible opportunity - my dream has become my reality.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
You Know You Spend Too Much Time at the Rink When...
- someone asks how old your child is and you reply "Minor Atom"
- your odometer hits 100 000km in the arena parking lot
- it's just as dark outside leaving the arena as arriving
- you convince people that practice Sunday mornings at 6AM isn't really that bad
- people you don't know call you by your name
- it's so cold outside starting the car would take longer than the trip to Timmy's so you break down and drink the arena vending machine coffee
- said vending machine coffee tastes good
- any fecking coffee tastes good at 6AM
- you know where the warm(relatively speaking) seats are in every local rink
- you keep different types of hockey tape in your purse
- you keep track of time by skate sharpenings
- you wake up two hours early to shovel the driveway to get to the game/practice
- that glove smell no longer induces vomiting
- you know whose turn it is to make the coffee run
- no one knows whose turn it is and no one cares because it all evens out
- a stranger stops you at the grocery store and asks, "Don't you work at the rink?"
- your holiday schedule is planned around games
- you see your friends at there more often than anywhere else
- you remember the rink you where in when your friend called to tell you she was finally pregnant
- you know what rinks have amenities for grandparents(viewing rooms and heat lamps!)
- despite all the hassles, you jump out of bed quicker for games and practices than anything else
- you don't think I'm crazy for doing it week after week.
- your odometer hits 100 000km in the arena parking lot
- it's just as dark outside leaving the arena as arriving
- you convince people that practice Sunday mornings at 6AM isn't really that bad
- people you don't know call you by your name
- it's so cold outside starting the car would take longer than the trip to Timmy's so you break down and drink the arena vending machine coffee
- said vending machine coffee tastes good
- any fecking coffee tastes good at 6AM
- you know where the warm(relatively speaking) seats are in every local rink
- you keep different types of hockey tape in your purse
- you keep track of time by skate sharpenings
- you wake up two hours early to shovel the driveway to get to the game/practice
- that glove smell no longer induces vomiting
- you know whose turn it is to make the coffee run
- no one knows whose turn it is and no one cares because it all evens out
- a stranger stops you at the grocery store and asks, "Don't you work at the rink?"
- your holiday schedule is planned around games
- you see your friends at there more often than anywhere else
- you remember the rink you where in when your friend called to tell you she was finally pregnant
- you know what rinks have amenities for grandparents(viewing rooms and heat lamps!)
- despite all the hassles, you jump out of bed quicker for games and practices than anything else
- you don't think I'm crazy for doing it week after week.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Hockey’s Smallest Hazard
Hockey’s biggest pest is not Sean Avery. Fans and players alike are familiar with the risk of physical injury from high sticks and hip checks but the bacterial strain methicillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus(MRSA) packs a far more lethal punch than Zdeno Chara’s right hook.
MRSA(pronounced mer-sa) is a form of bacteria that is highly resistant to traditional antibiotics; it first emerged in hospitals during the 1960s. The version that occurs outside of hospitals is known as community-acquired MRSA(CA-MRSA) and it became a frequent visitor to dressing rooms in the late 1990s. In 1999 it was responsible for the deaths of four previously healthy children in North Dakota and Minnesota.
Amateur athletes can be considered at higher risk of contracting MRSA than the pros due to less stringent sanitary measures in local rinks or stadiums. That’s not a knock against the caretakers, merely acknowledging the staff at places such as the Air Canada Centre have higher budgets and more resources with which to minimise the risk.
That doesn’t entirely eliminate the risk. Professional athletes including NHLers Mikael Renberg, Joe Thornton, and Ed Belfour have required hospital stays due to MRSA. Renberg’s case, triggered by a skate blade cutting his skin, was particularly nasty with his hand swelling to the size of a boxing glove. His doctors seriously considered amputation before the infection relented its grip. Death was indeed a possibility. An unfortunate few such as Lycoming College football player Ricky Lannetti have died from MRSA.
Treatment is difficult not only due to the bacteria’s drug resistance and constant evolution, but also due to lack of information. Most people are stunned to learn that more Americans died of MRSA than HIV-AIDS in 1995.
But don’t pull little Parker and Posey out of house league just yet. Prevention is possible. Luckily the most effective way to keep MRSA, and other illnesses at bay is also the simplest and most cost effective – hand washing with soap and the hottest water you can tolerate.
Another option for those times when the arena taps run colder than the ice you've skated on is Hockey Hands. This product is a heavy duty hand sanitizer, similar to the familiar little bottles such as Purell. The main ingredients are rubbing alcohol, tea tree oil, and mint.
That’s great for hands but who washes their gear thoroughly after every game or practice? Usually it gets tossed into a hockey bag and stays in the trunk until next time. A Mississauga entrepreneur, Sam Mauro of Core Marketing Solutions has come up with a twist on the traditional hockey bag. According to Mauro, his product, The Hockey Hangup reduces the risk of MRSA. The built-in hanger allows it to hang on dressing room hooks instead of germ-infested floors. It is 85% mesh so the equipment dries in the bag, avoiding the hassle of removing and hanging individual items. Mauro admits Hockey Hangup is not a cure but after playing hockey his entire life and dealing with hockey bag hazards, he created the product. “I want people to need the bag, not want the bag.” The time and money spent is heavy – each prototype cost $650.00 and takes two months. Mauro is not discouraged; he views his work as a way to make his hockey mark.
MRSA(pronounced mer-sa) is a form of bacteria that is highly resistant to traditional antibiotics; it first emerged in hospitals during the 1960s. The version that occurs outside of hospitals is known as community-acquired MRSA(CA-MRSA) and it became a frequent visitor to dressing rooms in the late 1990s. In 1999 it was responsible for the deaths of four previously healthy children in North Dakota and Minnesota.
Amateur athletes can be considered at higher risk of contracting MRSA than the pros due to less stringent sanitary measures in local rinks or stadiums. That’s not a knock against the caretakers, merely acknowledging the staff at places such as the Air Canada Centre have higher budgets and more resources with which to minimise the risk.
That doesn’t entirely eliminate the risk. Professional athletes including NHLers Mikael Renberg, Joe Thornton, and Ed Belfour have required hospital stays due to MRSA. Renberg’s case, triggered by a skate blade cutting his skin, was particularly nasty with his hand swelling to the size of a boxing glove. His doctors seriously considered amputation before the infection relented its grip. Death was indeed a possibility. An unfortunate few such as Lycoming College football player Ricky Lannetti have died from MRSA.
Treatment is difficult not only due to the bacteria’s drug resistance and constant evolution, but also due to lack of information. Most people are stunned to learn that more Americans died of MRSA than HIV-AIDS in 1995.
But don’t pull little Parker and Posey out of house league just yet. Prevention is possible. Luckily the most effective way to keep MRSA, and other illnesses at bay is also the simplest and most cost effective – hand washing with soap and the hottest water you can tolerate.
Another option for those times when the arena taps run colder than the ice you've skated on is Hockey Hands. This product is a heavy duty hand sanitizer, similar to the familiar little bottles such as Purell. The main ingredients are rubbing alcohol, tea tree oil, and mint.
That’s great for hands but who washes their gear thoroughly after every game or practice? Usually it gets tossed into a hockey bag and stays in the trunk until next time. A Mississauga entrepreneur, Sam Mauro of Core Marketing Solutions has come up with a twist on the traditional hockey bag. According to Mauro, his product, The Hockey Hangup reduces the risk of MRSA. The built-in hanger allows it to hang on dressing room hooks instead of germ-infested floors. It is 85% mesh so the equipment dries in the bag, avoiding the hassle of removing and hanging individual items. Mauro admits Hockey Hangup is not a cure but after playing hockey his entire life and dealing with hockey bag hazards, he created the product. “I want people to need the bag, not want the bag.” The time and money spent is heavy – each prototype cost $650.00 and takes two months. Mauro is not discouraged; he views his work as a way to make his hockey mark.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
As Grand as Playing Your First NHL Game
That's how I felt today, or more accurately, I felt the way I imagine hockey players do when they play in their first NHL game. What brought this on? My name is listed in The Hockey News under "interns." I've seen my name in credits before but this means more than all the others combined. As I kid, I saved my allowance to buy The Hockey News when it really was a newspaper - how I miss that hot-off-the-press smell and the ink all over my hands. Back then there was no girls hockey where I lived so The Hockey News was the closest a small town girl could get to the daily grind of hockey life. Reading about Ron Duguay, Darryl Sittler, or some kid named Gretzky fuelled my hockey furnace. There were no female hockey writers but my childhood imagination didn't run on reality. I dreamed and dreamed that someday my writing would appear in The Hockey News. That hasn't happened but some of my edits are in there, not like the staff writers need much editing. They are not excellent hockey writers - they are excellent writers - period. I feel intense pride seeing a piece I worked on in the magazine or on the web site, not a boastful, arrogant pride - I'm just so damn happy to be involved with something that has been part of my life for years. If this is the first game feeling, I can't wait to get the writers equivalent of the Stanley Cup feeling.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Seeing Green
My son's hockey season recently started. His skating and puck handling improved tremendously after only one week of sports camp. It dawned on me that he might move up a level in house league. It was not to be. His league only has enough players for a blue team or a green team, and white seems to be a touch above his skill level. With so many first time players and skaters, it looks as though the team will stay in the green level.
At first I was a bit disappointed but quickly came to my senses. The first time I laced up my son's skates I vowed to never, ever become one of "those parents" - the ones who shove instead of support, who guilt instead of guide, who pounce instead of praise. For a few minutes, upset that my spawn had gone down a level instead of up, I became one of "those parents" and was disgusted with myself.
House league is about the sheer fun and joy of hockey, at least it should be. The kids on the team who had never skated until tryouts deserve to play Canada's game as much as the ones who were seemingly born into blades. House league should never be about what colour level our kids are in; it has to be about learning the basics and enjoying the game.
This season I'll be seeing green and loving every minute of it.
At first I was a bit disappointed but quickly came to my senses. The first time I laced up my son's skates I vowed to never, ever become one of "those parents" - the ones who shove instead of support, who guilt instead of guide, who pounce instead of praise. For a few minutes, upset that my spawn had gone down a level instead of up, I became one of "those parents" and was disgusted with myself.
House league is about the sheer fun and joy of hockey, at least it should be. The kids on the team who had never skated until tryouts deserve to play Canada's game as much as the ones who were seemingly born into blades. House league should never be about what colour level our kids are in; it has to be about learning the basics and enjoying the game.
This season I'll be seeing green and loving every minute of it.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
My First "Hate" Mail
Other broadcasters warned me that it happens and I finally got to experience it first hand. I was a female sports scribe who made a mistake. I couldn't make it on air where it disappears, oh no, I had to go whole hog and make mine in print where it glared on the monitor. Thankfully, readers pointed it out to me, most in a polite and civil fashion. In case you were curious, yes, I do know that Jack Johnson played 74 games for the Los Angeles Kings last season. Yes, I know he is not in the minors. Yes, I know I had Dustin Brown on the second line. Yes, I did a poor job editing my work and accept full responsibility for the oversight.
A couple of readers seemed to think that the error was due to my estrogen levels. It was due to my being human; male or female we all screw up on occasion. Some readers thought that "women like you" are bad for "girls who desperately try to prove they know a man's game." One gave me the impression that I had no writing ability whatsoever and I "shouldn't even bother if that's the best you can do."
Guess what? It isn't the best I can do, but even with my estrogen levels I still have the balls to put my work out there and deal with the feedback. I will make mistakes and hopefully what I learn from them makes me better.
A couple of readers seemed to think that the error was due to my estrogen levels. It was due to my being human; male or female we all screw up on occasion. Some readers thought that "women like you" are bad for "girls who desperately try to prove they know a man's game." One gave me the impression that I had no writing ability whatsoever and I "shouldn't even bother if that's the best you can do."
Guess what? It isn't the best I can do, but even with my estrogen levels I still have the balls to put my work out there and deal with the feedback. I will make mistakes and hopefully what I learn from them makes me better.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
For hockey fans, September is akin to New Year's Eve. The upcoming season brings the promise of new talent and the familiarity of veterans. For me, it also marks a different way of watching hockey. I'll be watching to write, not for personal enjoyment. 2008-2009 will be my first full season of hockey reports and stories. In theory that should mean daily posts on this blog. In practice, between school and intern assignments, I'm aiming for two posts per week here at hockeytalkie.
What I'm looking forward to the most is seeing OHL and GTHL games. Living close to some of the arenas is something I'll take full advantage of. You might well spot me observing the St. Mike's Buzzers, Don Mills Flyers, North York Rangers, or Toronto JR Canadiens. The Brampton Battalion and Mississauga St. Mike's Majors also figure in my hockey plans.
The downside of being media is that you don't get to cheer. Luckily I can still do that at my child's hockey games.
Professionally and personally, this hockey season is gearing up to be one of the most wonderful times of my life, not just the year.
I'm currently working on an NHL Pacific division preview and hockey camp experience. Stay tuned.
What I'm looking forward to the most is seeing OHL and GTHL games. Living close to some of the arenas is something I'll take full advantage of. You might well spot me observing the St. Mike's Buzzers, Don Mills Flyers, North York Rangers, or Toronto JR Canadiens. The Brampton Battalion and Mississauga St. Mike's Majors also figure in my hockey plans.
The downside of being media is that you don't get to cheer. Luckily I can still do that at my child's hockey games.
Professionally and personally, this hockey season is gearing up to be one of the most wonderful times of my life, not just the year.
I'm currently working on an NHL Pacific division preview and hockey camp experience. Stay tuned.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Hockey Central? Not By a Long Shot
Toronto is not the Centre of the Hockey Universe; it is merely the Capital of Leafs Nation.
The Toronto Maple Leafs continue to sell out game after game, season after sub-par season. The Marlies, 3rd in the AHL, North division leaders, clinched a playoff spot a week before the Leafs lost their post season dance tickets. According to the game sheet, attendance at Ricoh that night was 4 309. I was at the arena and to say 1500 bums were in seats would be generous.
Leafs lemmings blindly shell out $50.00 for standing room to watch the Leafs lose, yet $40.00 gets a platinum seat to the Marlies. $120.00 gets 4 tickets, 4 pops, 4 popcorn and 4 hot dogs at Ricoh! At the ACC that gets a couple three hours leaning against a cold rail, as far from the ice as possible.
A 30 minute schlep from the ACC gets you even more bang for your hockey bucks. Just over $500.00, the cost of two golds at Always Counting Cash, buys season tickets for the Mississauga St. Mike's Majors. They even throw in the parking and programs! MLSE just seems to throw in the towel. The Majors prices are similar for the other 6 0HL teams within an hour of the Big Smoke.
Brampton and Mississauga were both in the OHL playoffs, yet struggled to fill the seats.
This isn't a new phenomenom. In the 1970s, Toronto's WHA team, the Toros managed at best 10 000 fans at Maple Leaf Gardens. That was largely due to star players Frank Mahovlich, Paul Henderson amd Vaclav Nedomansky.
The Toronto Roadrunners, Edmonton's AHL affiliate had a terrible time getting crowds to Ricoh Coliseum. Pundits placed the blame on bad location and no connection to the Leafs. Location is a non issue; over 1 million people manage to get there just fine during the CNE, thank you very much. Toronto FC fans have no problem getting to BMO Field, and they're not smarter than hockey fans. If they were they wouldn't be at a footie match!
Lacking a Leafs connection is another baseless argument. The Marlies have a 100 year long umbilical cord to the Leafs. For 62 years the Toronto Marlboros were the Buds breeding ground. Despite that, they still had rough spells when it came to ticket sales.
You see, you can't say Torontonians are hockey fans. The ticket take screams otherwise.
Sorry Hogtown, you're Leafs greatest fans, definitely not hockey's.
The Toronto Maple Leafs continue to sell out game after game, season after sub-par season. The Marlies, 3rd in the AHL, North division leaders, clinched a playoff spot a week before the Leafs lost their post season dance tickets. According to the game sheet, attendance at Ricoh that night was 4 309. I was at the arena and to say 1500 bums were in seats would be generous.
Leafs lemmings blindly shell out $50.00 for standing room to watch the Leafs lose, yet $40.00 gets a platinum seat to the Marlies. $120.00 gets 4 tickets, 4 pops, 4 popcorn and 4 hot dogs at Ricoh! At the ACC that gets a couple three hours leaning against a cold rail, as far from the ice as possible.
A 30 minute schlep from the ACC gets you even more bang for your hockey bucks. Just over $500.00, the cost of two golds at Always Counting Cash, buys season tickets for the Mississauga St. Mike's Majors. They even throw in the parking and programs! MLSE just seems to throw in the towel. The Majors prices are similar for the other 6 0HL teams within an hour of the Big Smoke.
Brampton and Mississauga were both in the OHL playoffs, yet struggled to fill the seats.
This isn't a new phenomenom. In the 1970s, Toronto's WHA team, the Toros managed at best 10 000 fans at Maple Leaf Gardens. That was largely due to star players Frank Mahovlich, Paul Henderson amd Vaclav Nedomansky.
The Toronto Roadrunners, Edmonton's AHL affiliate had a terrible time getting crowds to Ricoh Coliseum. Pundits placed the blame on bad location and no connection to the Leafs. Location is a non issue; over 1 million people manage to get there just fine during the CNE, thank you very much. Toronto FC fans have no problem getting to BMO Field, and they're not smarter than hockey fans. If they were they wouldn't be at a footie match!
Lacking a Leafs connection is another baseless argument. The Marlies have a 100 year long umbilical cord to the Leafs. For 62 years the Toronto Marlboros were the Buds breeding ground. Despite that, they still had rough spells when it came to ticket sales.
You see, you can't say Torontonians are hockey fans. The ticket take screams otherwise.
Sorry Hogtown, you're Leafs greatest fans, definitely not hockey's.
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