|How many frat parties is it gonna take to get over this one Kaner?|
One of the reasons why this trip was special, was the fact that we were able to watch the Winter Olympics during our stay, and have the chance to see our hockey teams compete at the highest international level. We sat in McLean's Pub on Peel St., cheering on our women's team and baring witness to one of the greatest comebacks in our nation's history; down 2-0 with three minutes to go, our girls scored two quick goals to tie it up and send it to overtime, where Marie-Philip Poulin buried her second goal of the game -- her first was the game-tying goal -- to clinch the gold medal for the red and white, and give me an opportunity to watch more American hockey players cry. That image of males or females in those red, white, and blue colours with tears streaming down their faces is sweeter than the Californian wines that were on sale at two bottles for $20 at the hotel liquor store...I digress...
That's enough gospel for one day, let's get to brass tacks: Canada will now face Sweden in the gold medal final, which is pretty much the best hockey game I could have asked for. When it comes to international hockey, the idea of a second favourite team doesn't really apply, unless you're Brett Hull or the dude from Homeland. Your country is your country. But, if I had to pick a nation that doesn't bother me if they have more success than Canada, then Sweden is pretty much the odds-on favourite. Without even bringing up the fact that arguably the greatest Toronto Maple Leaf of all-time, Mats Sundin, is Swedish, or that ABBA hails from the blue and gold, Sweden may be the most talented hockey nation other than our own.
|I don't even hate this picture, not gonna lie|
Now, for a little reminiscing. We take you all the way back to 2010: a simpler time, to say the least. Obama was President, Harper was Prime Minister, Tony Romo was the Cowboys QB...wait...
That fateful Sunday afternoon when the world had its eyes on Vancouver, and our men's team took on the American's for gold, I watched the game in an empty home with one of my best friends. My mother and father had separated, and my dad had temporally moved into a little blue house with a pink door at 200 College Ave. Me and Alex Heisz shared a bag of salt & vinegar chips and watched from the pleather couch that faced a 400-year-old Toshiba television. We felt our hearts sink when Zach Parise tied it up with 25 seconds left for the U.S. to send it to overtime, and freaked-the-eff-out when Sidney Crosby shot it between Ryan Miller's legs to win it. I remember every detail from that day, every moment, every gasp, every expletive shouted, every fist-pump and fist-bump, and how golden our voices sounded when we sang "O Canada" with the rest of the nation.
I can only hope I feel the same way tomorrow morning. Go Canada.