Hockey Blues

Last week, it was reported that the NHL season had been cancelled. For a moment, I imagined that there had to have been a season for it to be cancelled, but I guess that a show can be cancelled before it even starts. So, hockey is cancelled (though I read in this morning's paper that more talks are going on). Yawn!

The truth is that the news of its cancellation does not much matter to me. I skipped right over to the next headline the morning that I read the news about that. I hardly have missed it, really, as much of a sacrilegious thing this is to admit for a Canadian.

And, what is more, I am finding it hard to be sympathetic to a bunch of greedy millionaires. They are not all like that, you might say. True, I suppose that I am exaggerating. They are not all millionaires.

But then I thought about everyone else. Well, not really everyone else. Not the hockey fans. I don't give a rat's tuchez about the "fans." Hey, it's Lent, I stopped smoking back in January (I gave up a few of my addictive vices in January), and even though I already feel better and younger, I am still not at all in the mood to be sympathetic to other people's withdrawal symptoms. It's callous, I know. But that's the way it is. One day, soon perhaps, I will regain my sympathy for that category of humans.

In the meantime, I think about the people whose livelihood depended on the game being played (and whose families and children depend on them) in the many different cities. I think of the beer and pop vendors, the people who make the cheesy souvenirs and those who sell them, the ticket sales folks, the zamboni drivers, my friends who normally sell more take-out food or my other friends who sell more beer at their bar during a game night (in Calgary, in Edmonton and in Montreal). I think of the pizza delivery guys, of the bartenders and waitresses. I think of the baggage handlers, the cooks and busboys, the techy guys, the chambermaids, the taxi drivers.

One thought stays in my mind: Damn those greedy millionaire bastards!