As my dad chops ice with an axe, four sticks rest comfortably against the house. They’ll wait until the Kinch brothers and McCready and Travis and a bunch of others are ready, and I’ll share my sticks with anyone who needs one. It’s going to be another road hockey game, another big goal into the top corner, and another Stanley Cup raised by me.
I won the Stanley Cup often on that snowy, street-lit, Orillia street, and I was always a Montreal Canadien. Sometimes I was just Kane, the kid with the brush cut who had cracked the Montreal Canadiens lineup and had won the game at the Montreal Forum with a quick shot that fooled Bower.
Sometimes I’d look over as we battled hard and I’d see my mom and dad watching by the door, and I’d run faster, shoot harder, and score that winning goal that won the Stanley Cup while they watched with pride. And I was proud to show them that their son was a good hockey player.
What it must be like for parents of real players, who sit in giant arenas surrounded by 20,000 cheering fans, and see their son down below skating in the big league.
We used rubber boots for goal posts, and usually a red, white and blue ball that bounced too much but it didn’t matter. The street was slightly uphill, so the goalies had to make sure they stopped it because the ball would get away and roll down Elmer Avenue. But what goalie could stop Kane? It was like trying to stop the Rocket.
We had to come in at some point – often after a scrap between me and one of the Kinch brothers. But that was all. Serious cold and frozen toes didn’t stop us, lopsided scores didn’t either. Just wrestling in the snow, suppertime, or Hockey Night in Canada.
Danno sends a nice clip about a bunch of guys in Tweed who’ve kept a road hockey tournament going for years, although it’s not on the road, with stats and the Stanley Cup. And as a bonus, they show how they made their Stanley Cup, which is very cool.
Have a look. I’m sure you’d like it.