O O Ø O O O O
Game Six
Poignantly paired memories.
On the day we buried my great grandfather, Calgary played Montreal in the sixth game of the Stanley Cup finals.
The service was in the early afternoon in Ponoka, where Great Grandfather had lived, and it was first time I had ever seen a man of the stature of my grandfather cry. My grandmother put her arms around him, and we all felt better for it.
After the service there was a bit of a reception, with roast beef sandwiches and other buffet fare. The hockey game was in the Forum, so it was scheduled to start before people had finished visiting at the reception hall. Understandingly, my father drove me back to the motel in time for the game. Ponoka is deep in Edmonton Oiler territory, but I curiously found myself watching the game with a Habs fan my own age, some lost relative from a distant branch of the family.
When a game is as significant as this one was, it’s a little trying to have your foe cheering right beside you.
Game On
The game was as tightly played as any I have watched, and I remember a few scattered highlights. Hakan Loob handled the puck with an understated deftness throughout game, most notably on the penalty kill. I can clearly picture Lanny McDonald’s legs pumping back and forth as he caught a pass coming out of the box after serving a goaltender penalty. I remember the shot on Roy, but not the goal, and I will never forget the look of amazed ecstasy on McDonald’s face when the red light came on. I recall the feeling of profound, determined relief when Gilmour put away what would become the game winner. And I remember Jim Peplinsky and Tim Hunter, the two assistant captains, waiting by the gate in their undershirts as the final seconds wound down. They weren’t dressed for the game, to make room for Lanny and Jiri Hrdina.
My parents and relatives, who stopped in to watch the second period, but had left again to eat supper, picked me up to head back to Calgary as the locker room celebrations wound down. When their car pulled up to the front of the motel, I hit the handle to pop open the screen door, and raised both arms outward to the sight of the warm, setting sun.
The cars on Highway 2 south honked all the way back to Calgary.
Evan Spence
Tuesday, October 16, 2001
PD DXVII