Word: hockey
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Coach and part owner of the 'Yotes, hockey's messiah has made it clear that he'll live and die by Phoenix. But for those who've been lifelong followers of the soaring saga of No. 99 - the boy-king whose almost supernatural insight into the game and how it was played changed hockey forever and permanently ensconced the always humble pride of Brantford as the game's Luke Skywalker and Jesus Christ - this potential move would represent a welcome twist and fitting conclusion to the Gretzky narrative. (See pictures of shoes worn by Olympic athletes...
...might try to punch someone else in the face. I know that's not the sentiment the NHL wants to promote, but it's a big part of the equation. You can't get it in baseball, basketball or football, and yet that's rarely trumpeted in the marketing. Hockey is a graceful but aggressive game that can elevate to and just as quickly retreat from physical hostilities at the drop of a puck. That's exciting to watch because it's passionate. You're watching the opposite of paycheck playing: that's playing with heart. And yet they...
...none of that awakens a hankering for hookin' in 'em, sell it the American way: tell folks that in hockey, there's always a chance someone will wind up looking like a jackass. Or more specifically, tell them there's a chance I'm gonna wind up looking like a jackass ... and they can come see it for themselves...
...Every year, Walter Gretzky (Wayne's dad) hosts a street hockey tournament in his hometown of Brantford, Ontario. After learning about it, I mused about the idea of playing in the tourney, in a podcast and on the message board at my website. All of a sudden, other dudes like me - old, out-of-shape, unathletic, with more body fat than bone - started dreaming they, too, could forecheck it up the slot and slap themselves some middle-aged glory one last time ... in the hometown of the Great One, no less...
...That's the passion hockey inspires. I haven't net-minded in 15 years, and lemme tell ya, I wasn't good then. Now I'm just praying that whatever I lack in Brodeur-like brilliance and Luongo-level dexterity I can make up for in sheer width and mass in goal. God willing, my child-bearing hips stretch pipe to pipe - because Sunday afternoon, the aging oldsters of Puck U (my team) will play the winning club from the tournament's teenage division. If the mallrats can beat us, we're going to donate $10,000 to Brantford Youth...