On January 5, twenty-two teenage Canadians lit up Ottawa’s packed Scotiabank Place as they beat Team Sweden 5-1 to capture their fifth straight gold medal at the World Junior Hockey Championships. The tournament, which saw the puck drop on Boxing Day, glued hockey fans firmly onto their couches for the past ten days. For many, it’s a holiday tradition that rivals the turkey dinner on Christmas day or over-consumption on New Years Eve.
But when the competition is held in one of the European hockey countries, such as Russia or Slovakia, the fans share the same enthusiasm as they do for a Saturday morning peewee practice. Why is it so different in Canada? Why do we care?
It’s a matter of pride. As the Great White North is constantly overshadowed by the beast beneath us, there’s little to call our own. We don’t produce eight time gold medal winners at the Olympics, we don’t challenge for the World Cup (or even compete for it), but hockey is ours. It’s what we do, and it’s what we do well. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Mario Lemieux scoring the ’87 Canada Cup winner, or Jordan Eberle netting the tying goal with only 5.4 seconds left, as he did last Saturday night, paving the way for a dramatic Canadian shootout win against the Russians. In hockey, Canadians can feel as though they’re on top of the world.
The competition provides a much-needed break from the mid-season monotony of the NHL. A third of the way through the season, the already drudging league falls into a dull routine. NHL-ers put forth a half-decent effort, earn their paycheques, travel to the next city, and do it all over again. But with the injection of the World Juniors, fans are given a taste of hockey that’s untainted by professionalism. Not earning a single cent, the boys play with nothing but passion, excitement, and national pride. Through sheer determination (and quite a bit of skill), John Tavares single handedly got Canada back into the final round robin game against the Americans by scoring two straight goals to bring the team within one of the tie. P.K. Subban revved up the crowd with his boisterous energy even more than he did with his all-star performance. And Dustin Tokarski, a kid that was told he would never make it, backstopped the team to their victory. The eager glint in the players’ eyes that often fades after years in the NHL shined bright during this tournament.
But what really keeps Canadians glued to their televisions is a sense of the familiar. The players aren’t from some lofty realm of athletic elitism, inaccessible to the common Joe. They’re our brothers, our cousins, our sons, and our high school classmates. If you grew up in Canada, chances are you’ve known someone just like six foot six defenseman Keith Aulie from Rouleau, Saskatchewan, or Chris DiDomenico from Woodbridge, Ontario, who was once overlooked by the OHL because of his size. Perhaps you went to school with an Angelo Esposito from Montreal, rejected three years in a row by Team Canada before finally making the cut, who scored the gold medal-winning goal in Monday night’s game. The team inspires the next generation of young players to believe that it doesn’t take divine intervention (or corporate endorsements) to make it. They salute all the regular people who’ve helped them along their way. They may be from the other side of the country, but they strike close to home.
One couldn’t help feeling a sense of national sentiment when the 1,800 square foot Canadian flag surfed over the Ottawa crowd. The tournament is more than a showcase of sport. It’s a reinforcement of our pastime, and an expression of our social fabric.
What really keeps Canadians glued to their televisions is a sense of the familiar. The players are our brothers, our cousins, our sons, and our high school classmates.
