Bill's Bulletin Board
By Bill Rea

It was a somewhat later night than I had anticipated, and since Thursday was my wife's birthday, my justification for not getting home before 11 was a little limited.

But I had taken certain steps ahead of time, including making sure that a bottle of our favourite "good stuff" was chilling in the fridge, waiting to be cracked open upon my arrival. All is well on that score, I'm happy to report.

The reason I was so late was I attended at the arena in Schomberg to see the local midget rep heroes pick up a solid victory against their foes from Waterford. These two clubs were playing the third in their best-of-seven series to see who would be the provincial champions, and Schomberg had a 3-0 lead in games when the ice shavings had settled.

Other work commitments meant that I missed the first half of the game. Such inconveniences go with the territory in my line of work, but in such situations, it's the end of the game that's really important.

I was heartened to see that a lot of people were interested in the fortunes of these young hockey players.

The arena in Schomberg, for the benefit of those who may not be familiar with it, has what could be generally described as adequate parking facilities. I have been covering hockey there for more than eight years now, and I think for just the second time in the period, I had trouble finding a spot. The lot was packed. I ended up having to park on the street (possibly illegally) some distance from the arena. I was in pretty good company too, as there were lots of cars on the street.

Once inside, I found the facility was packed. I hadn't seen a crowd like that since the year the Schomberg Cougars made it to the junior C provincial quarter-finals. In fact, the crowd was so dense that I could envision problems for people who might be a touch claustrophobic.

Thus I spent approximately the next hour watching and taking photographs of the action. The hockey was fairly well-played and entertaining, although things did get a little chippy towards the end (a logical occurrence, I would say, in rep hockey at that age group in provincial finals). The large crowd, including what appeared to be a respectable contingent from Waterford, was involved and enthused, and generally well-behaved. The officiating seemed to be pretty fair to me, although is such a situation, anything the refs do are going to please half the audience and annoy the hell out of the other half. A hockey official with an ounce of brains realizes that is simply part of the job.

It was a satisfactory evening, I thought. The only downside (depending of course on whose side you're on) was one team had to taste defeat, but that was the object of the exercise. Beyond that, it was a good night.

And I have to report it was a pretty good night two evenings later, when the Red Wings came home packing the All-Ontario trophy.

Isn't that what hockey, especially minor hockey, is supposed to be all about?

It's supposed to be a good time for those who take part, and since it involves competition, there is the possibility of the thrill of victory to make it all seem worthwhile. And if you happen to lose, well, there's always the next game, or the next season, or possibly some other sport at which one can excel. And even if you don't win, is it really that bad? As the oft' used expression goes, "It's only a game."

I know that a lot of people don't see it that way, and in my humble judgment, they're wrong.

True, in the heat of the moment, no one likes to be cheated, or see someone cheated. If a ref blows a call (and since they are human beings, they're going to blow them frequently), people are naturally going to get a little testy.

Maybe it's easy for someone me to make these lofty-sounding statements, because I spent most of my hockey-playing days on winning teams.

I was a boy who was born and raised in Canada. Like most people of my age group who can make such statements, I played a lot of hockey as a kid. I was lucky enough to live on a cul-de-sac, which is a great place for street hockey. I also spent eight years playing organized hockey. It was house league, meaning all you had to do was show up to be assured of making the team. In those eight years, the teams on which I played made it to the finals six of them. This column is being written in my home, and atop of the bookshelf in the room with the computer are trophies for being on the championship teams in tyke, minor atom, peewee and minor bantam divisions in the association in which I played.

My hockey-playing days ended when I left the ice bearing my minor bantam trophy (the association, operating in the west end of Toronto, didn't go any higher in those days).

There are several good reasons why I didn't continue with the game, and a lack of natural ability is probably one of the main ones. I was a pretty good skater, a little big for my age and capable of throwing a decent body check (I think that ability was stressed a lot more in my day than it is now). But I couldn't control a puck to save my life, and I wasn't inclined to keep track of the flow of the game, or observe weaknesses or strengths of my opponents. In other words, house league minor bantam was as far as my hockey career was supposed to go.

I laced on some skates a couple of years later, and actually impressed myself, reasoning that skating, like riding a bike, was a skill that stayed with you. I could even still skate backwards. I didn't skate again for another 30 years, and when I tried it, I realized how wrong I had been. I was wearing out leg muscles just trying to keep my balance, and having a terrible time trying to keep control of where I was going and stopping when I should.

No, a men's hockey league is no place for a guy like me.

It's a pity in one sense.

Like most Canadian boys, I had my dreams of playing for the Leafs, and like most Canadian boys, that dream was unrealized. But I often reflect back on my years of playing, and wish maybe I had been a bit more proficient. In those eight years, I scored exactly one goal, and that was a bit of a fluke, after I blindly backhanded the puck home during a goal-mouth scramble.

I am envious of these kids who are able to play rep hockey. But the truth is I'm envious of any kid who gets to play organized hockey, as I recall the good times I had, even if I didn't play the game well.

Those kinds of thoughts, combined with watching kids play a game like the one I saw Thursday. That's what really combined to make it such a good night.

That and knowing my wife was going to cut me a bit of slack when it came to getting home on time.