Dennis Kane’s Excellent Montreal Canadiens Blog

Today’s a day when time has run out.

I work for BC Ferries, and the weather’s been blistering hot. So therefore, it’s been busy. Really busy. And the days at work are long. Did I mention the days at work are long? And busy?

And my wife wants me to look at some paintings on the beach put up by local artists, before I go back to work, which is soon.

And then I go back to work and do it all again. It seems that every human being on the face of the earth is travelling this weekend on the Sunshine Coast by way of BC Ferries. Except you, of course. You’re stuck in a room reading this right now.

NHL training camps are still a month away. A lovely woman named Carol Huynh from Hazelton, BC, which is way up in the northwest of the province, won gold in wrestling. The Habs signed third round draft pick Yannick Weber. I saw a bear a couple of weeks ago. Last year my wife saw a bear on our street, two doors down. Schools sit quiet. There’s lots of plus-sixty year olds who drive Harleys. And my cat loves me.

So I have to go and look at paintings on the beach now, and then I have to go to work and help travellers travel.

It’s really hot.

Sorry about this.

It’s been such a disappointment for me. I had fully intended to be in the Beijing Olympics, probably as a gymnast, but 2008 just crept up on me and before you know it, the Olympics are in full swing and I never got a chance to practice or anything.

But I’ve decided to change gears and concentrate on the London Olympics four years from now. This will give me time to train, and find a new sport because my wife and friends finally convinced me that overweight people over fifty aren’t usually gymnasts.

But Archery, now that’s sport! And I noticed in the paper a little story about Canadian archer Jay Lyon, who says, “I’m not much of an athlete. I eat a lot of McDonald’s, and I’m probably overweight.”

But I’m an athlete. I was a smallish yet shifty right winger for Byer’s Bulldozers Bantam hockey team, for goodness sakes. And I don’t care much for McDonald’s.

However, I like beer and sitting in a chair.

Watch for me in London four years from now. I’ll be the one with the bow and arrow and several beer in the quiver.

I don’t care if my daughter was faster than Speedy Gonzales. I don’t care if she was 35 years old. I wouldn’t let her compete in the Olympics. There’s too many male athletes there with raging inner-guy things going on, and they’re only a thin wall or two from lovely lady athletes.

The IOC issues more than 50 condoms to every male athlete, which means that’s about three a day for sixteen days. Sure these athletes should be working out, but I was thinking more along the lines of athletics.

Fifty condoms in the wallets of muscle-bound male volleyball players and kayakers and marathon swimmers. There’s no way I’d let my daughter go.

In many instances, the athletes arrive several days before his event, perform (I guess in more ways than one), and then head home. So if he’s there for only eight days, that’s more than six condoms a day.

And what would he do if didn’t use all fifty condoms? Put them on his mantel back home, of course. Then he could proudly show friends and family his bronze metal, his Chinese bathrobe, and his 37 condoms he didn’t get to use because he wasn’t there long enough.

“The Olympics were a wonderful time for me,” he’d say dreamily.

I wouldn’t let my daughter within 100 miles of an Olympic Village.