One Year for Thuggery

I think, dollar for dollar, major junior hockey is pretty well the best bang for the buck when it comes to watching any sport. At one point, back in early '90s, I was able to watch the Blazers. They went to the Memorial Cup three times in four years, taking it home as champions for two of those three years. Teams are cyclic, and the Blazers then are not the Blazers now.

Back then, they were great. After all, they had the likes of Iginla (Flames), Mason (Blues), Baumgartner and Lukowich (Canucks), Strudwick (Oilers) and others that slip my mind. Many from that era have played on various teams throughout the NHL. Granted, not all turned out to be all-stars, but at least they made it to the big league. There is even a Bow Island connection, a player that I watched called Krooshoop.

The passion and energy is unmatched, in my modest opinion, by anything at a higher level, be it the AHL or even the NHL. Obviously, when you get to the big dance, the stakes are higher and the game is greater, but I still maintain that there is more entertainment value in a game in Lethbridge or Medicine Hat or Prince Albert. (One significant proviso is that the teams have to be fairly skilled and competitive, not always the case in, say, Lethbridge.)

Sometimes that intensity takes a really ugly turn, as it did a couple of weeks ago in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League (QMJHL). You may or may not recall the news bulletin (competing with all the bad news out of Haiti, it may have been hard). Let me re-cap it for you:

Patrice Cormier, a centre for the Rouyn-Noranda Huskies, nailed Mikael Tam, a defensemen for the Quebec Remparts with an elbow to the face on Sunday, January 17. It was a direct shot, with Cormier actually leaving the bench to make a beeline for Tam. Cormier, better known as the captain the Canadian junior team that lost recently the American juniors, will now be known as the goon who left another player writhing and convulsing on the ice.

A hundred yards in any direction outside that rink and he would have been arrested for assault and battery, at the least. However, inside the rink, it's considered part of the game. Or at least it has been until this incident. Good, clean checks that result in injury are what we call part of the game – an unfortunate part of the game, no less. Vicious goonery such as what we saw even has Don Cherry, hockey's loudest proponent of thuggery, shaking his head.

Major junior hockey is exciting, but there no place for violence. Breathtaking, perhaps, but that should be on the part of the willing fan – not an unwilling player, gasping for breath. I agree with the QMJHL's verdict, as if anyone with any clout really cares, that the kid is banned for the rest of the year from playing hockey. Perhaps he should be banned for the first year or two of his professional career (Cormier is a draft pick of the Devils), which would keep him out of New Jersey for a few years.

However, as wicked as that shot was, we as a culture, of course, have duped ourselves into a "that" and "this" dichotomy. For example, when we endorse UFC, when we buy or sell barbarian DVDs, when we watch movies that are rated "R" for severe violence, I suggest we live by a double-standard. Let's be reasonable here: like hockey, some violence is part of life; I'm talking about the really sadistic type.

In other words, "that" is hockey, but "this" is my private world and is no one else's business, and I can do whatever I want.

While I don't condone Cormier's senseless, moronic hit, I suggest to you that he is actually a reflection of at least a segment of our goofy society at large. Not every one, of course: just the twits that watch the same stuff in a permissible environment. I suggest the following: Don't stop at Cormier; go after the sponsors, buyers and sellers of the blood and gore movies and DVDs, even the parents who turn a blind eye to the really serious stuff.

Maybe we should give them all one year in the penalty box.

Me and Harrison Ford

Last week was the first time I had ever flown out of Lethbridge. Normally, when I fly anywhere, I drive up to Calgary, scramble for cheap three-day parking, and hop on a plane. A discount AirMiles promotion allowed me to hop on at Lethbridge, dash through the terminal at Calgary, then glide into Vancouver with the great of ease - for next to nothing, to boot. 

Well, not exactly next to nothing: The taxes and insurance and over-priced burgers brought the total price back to reality.

When I first saw the plane on the tarmac, I felt like I was Indiana Jones heading to Egypt on one of those 1940's-era aircraft. I know I don't look like him, fight like him, or even have his bank account, but for one fleeting moment I felt like a raider of the lost ark – Noah's ark, that is. Noah's long-lost ark of the airways, to be precise.

Talk about ancient. There was a seat on either side of the aisle, with twenty seats altogether. No television, no soft drinks. Not even any boring airline magazines. I don't even think there was a bathroom at back. I was too afraid to check it out, in case I tipped the plane. 

I also got the impression we were in trouble when I saw both pilots busy reading a map of Alberta. It looked like they were trying to find the shortest and safest route from Lethbridge to Calgary. I started looking for the shortest and safest route to the ground, straight down.

Cheap is fun, so long as I can concentrate on saving time (no extra road trip to Calgary) and money (some AirMiles gone, but bank account safe – well, until I had to buy that burger in Calgary). Even the rush of leaving from a small "county" airport is kind of cool. These mammoth-size airport malls leave much to be desired when it comes to a personal, warm environment. There is something to be said for the individual touch of a municipal airport.

Coming back to Alberta was almost as exciting. I discovered to my chagrin that, by the time I was to arrive in Calgary (after a fifteen minute delay in Vancouver for a host of unrelated reasons), I might miss my connecting flight to Lethbridge. In other words, I was going to miss getting back on that twenty-seater "Bill Haley" special - you know, shake, rattle, and roll.

A few brief words to the steward allowed me to move up to the executive class for the remainder of the trip – and I enjoyed the brief fling of the pampered rich. The rationale? Closer to the front for a quicker departure, I would have a head start for the 100 metre dash to the other departure gate. Sitting in a easy chair at 16,000 feet made me almost forget the taxes, insurance and over-priced burgers. It almost made me forget Harrison Ford. It probably would have made him forget the holy grail if he had the chance to sit where I sat. After all, why ride a camel when you can ride a La-Z-Boy?

Bumpy rides and near misses aside, I was so impressed with the service I got from Air Canada. I find that both hard and easy to say: hard, because I am more of a WestJet kind of guy; and easy, because in an era where crummy service rules the day, I was pampered like a little kid on a plane without his mommy for the first time. In fact, I was offered coffee twice: Once when I was a commoner and once when I was an executive.

That's almost incentive enough to take another trip and look for my own temple of gloom.

When Trouble Shakes

Just when you think things can't get any worse for Haiti, last week's devastating earthquake trumps all previous tragedies. By the time you read this, some of the numbers will be in: actual people killed, actual people left homeless, and actual dollars it will take to re-build part of that country – primarily Port-au-Prince.

A flurry of thoughts rush my mind, despite not knowing all the facts as I write. I cannot address the natural or supernatural issues that doubtless many are mulling over. What arrests my attention in this and other similar debacles is the humanitarian aid that pours in. From countries as diverse as Iceland and Venezuela, the national disaster response teams are being readied. It's almost as if their superficial jurisdictional and philosophical problems get shelved for matters that actually, well, matter.

And these are far, far more significant, indeed: Petty differences pale by comparison when thousands of people have no heat, no house, no food, and no water.

Then there are organizations, such as Samaritan's Purse and World Vision – both Christian in their foundation and practical in their application – are also getting more involved in their services there. I say more involved because, of course, they were already there and have been there, and in many other countries, for some time. I should add that others are involved, including countless missionaries, other aid workers, and teachers on a year-round basis, plus even those from Bow Island that take teams down there regularly. It's only usually when there is a crisis that the media acknowledges them.

But beyond the nations and the organizations, there are individuals that rise to the occasion. Hurricane Katrina (remember her merciless attack on New Orleans a few years ago?) was great example. Though there was supreme bureaucratic bungling from the top down, individuals and individual organizations rallied to re-furbish that city, as they bought, bolstered, and bound up the wounded hearts. There have been clusters of Christians even from the County of Forty Mile that have made the trek south to help out in Louisiana – and I know that will happen again with Haiti.

Our fire disaster of five years ago is a case in point. Sparing my readers all the unnecessary details, the money, gifts, tips, offers, and overall support that poured in within hours (literally) of our own "Haiti" is still hard to comprehend. I still get a rush telling others (only when they ask, of course, as there is still a side of me that wants to try to forget the grief we went through) about the kindness of friends and strangers in Southern Alberta.

Lest you think I am crass in comparing what has happen in Haiti with what happened to us, please spare me. I agree that there is little similarity between no heat, house, food and water – plus the grisly death count – and our setback. We never missed a meal or a drink of water, and had a roof over our head, here and there, ever since. But our grief was a microcosm of their grief.

The link is the good-heartedness of humanity, people, be it at the international, institutional, or individual level. While I am of the conviction that each one of us has issues with a base nature that needs some serious mending, I still maintain that there is that spark of goodness that longs to express itself somewhere, somehow.

I am not saying such a good-heartedness will ever be our "ticket" to heaven (the Lord forbid!), but it may make life a little more "heavenly" down here. While I cannot explain why a part of Haiti gets wiped out by an earthquake – that would be sheer presumption – nor can I personally give anyone a God's-eye view of natural catastrophes, I can comment on what I do know: We are one earth, we are one people, and all cultural and political differences must be put aside when any one of us suffers.

I sort of think the Haitians would agree.

Another Loudmouth Blogger?

Because I am convinced that if we had a little more grammar in this poor world, we'd all be better off, I find myself a little out of step with normal people. Some cry that we need more love; others, more green space. My teenagers think that if we had more sleep, the world would be a better place. And my students are clear that more holidays would make everything right.

I say: Bring on the participles, and we'd have a better world.

Okay, okay, I kid, but there is some truth in speaking and writing well. And my little grammar lesson today, boys and girls – and big people, too – is all about "suffixes." Remember that "prefixes" join the root word in the front of it (eg., re-, de-, un-, etc.), whereas "suffixes" join the root word at the back (eg., -ite, -aire, -istic, etc.). And now that I have used the quotation marks enough times, I can use the word suffix without them.

Many, if not most, suffixes are just fine. But let me talk briefly about perhaps the most dangerous one, the suffix "-ism." You see, for example, it is good to be an individual, but it is not good to be marked by individualism; to commune is good, but communism is not good.. I am simply expressing my opinion, which actually is the big word for today's lesson. Having an opinion is good, but expressing it on every topic all day long is not. As there is no actual word "opinionism," I will stick with the accepted term, "opinionated."

When you are told that you are opinionated, please do not take that as a complement. Ever. It would be akin to being called a "big mouth," or "loudmouth." In fact, if a guy has a "lip" or a gal has quite a "mouth," those are insults masking as body parts.

This is the day of opinions, and sometimes they cross the line into opinionism (again, no such word, but don't tell the Grammar teacher I said that). Mind you, we don't see them as opinions when they are written; those often call "blogs." There are many blogs of every description, including some at the bottom of news stories on the Internet. People sound off about anything and everything. Sometimes their opinions are worth reading; other times, I would rather watch paint dry.

One of the marks of a democratic society – that is, a true democratic society – is some vague notion called free speech. This column, with all its right leanings (play on words fully intended) and expressions that are pro-life, pro-family, and pro-morality, is a case in point. I don't ask anyone to agree with me, laud me, nominate me for office – or even name a street after me, for that matter.

Threats of hatred, promises of violence, or even opinions that denigrate our fellow-humans have no place here, on the news, or even on a personal blog. How the latter is policed, I cannot say. It is an age-old question, namely, where does freedom of speech end and malicious speech begin?

Speaking of such, just before I sat down here in the brave solitude of my lonely office, I read the opinions of irate blogger after angry blogger, as they assailed a certain corporation. Apparently Loblaws was thinking of suing the driver of the 15-passenger van that crashed in New Brunswick two years ago. The driver lost his wife and and seven students in the crash. His van and his world were turned upside down; in many ways, the crash was a metaphor for the that poor man's world.

My point is, people were steamed at the bullying tactics by Loblaws - taking on a little guy who has already suffered a lifetime of grief, stigma, and pain. And these bloggers were letting the public know that this sort of approach is completely unacceptable. Their opinionated outrage worked here: Loblaws backed off. So, in this case at least, sounding off worked.

While I don't know all the details, I applaud the bloggers for their courage of convictions (even though they don't use their proper names). Like other bloggers, or students, or politicians, or whoever else feels they must express their opinion, let me give you some pointers:

1. Don't feel you have to express your opinion on everything that happens. Maybe not everyone wants to know what you think. As Andy Capp once said: "When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you." Measure your talk in words, not sentences.

2. Choose your words carefully; you may not have all the facts and the missing ones may be the most crucial ones. It might be good to start opining with the words: "My understanding is..."

In fact, this column is just like those blogs – and I live by those same rules, believe me.