Why Do Sports Matter II? The Case of T. Linden

Why Do Sports Matter? Part II of II

Click here for my rambling Part I

I am not afraid to admit that I can be an emotional person at times. As a "man", society implies that we should be able to hide our emotions and be a "rock". Whatever that means. However, before you think I am a weeping willow and that I cry at every opportunity, I feel I need to clarify the weird specific scenarios where my emotions get the best of me.

I don't get emotional during sappy movies. I found Titanic to be completely absurd and I could not understand why everyone was crying around me. I do not like feeling manipulated by a movie, such as Patch Adams, which I deem to be "emotional pornography". I felt bad when Marissa died in "The OC" not because she died, but because I actually chuckled a bit (I know, terrible!) because I thought her character was so idiotic. Some supposed books that are sad elicit little emotion from me. I do not get affected by the usual sappy stories.

However, stories about sacrifice, friendship, and selflessness get me every time. I cannot help but get teary-eyed every time I read about Terry Fox. Last year, I was watching the really bad Canadian movie of Terry Fox and I was laughing at how bad the acting was, yet 15 minutes later I got a bit teary-eyed in a scene with Terry and his friend arguing on the road. I couldn't help but getting teary-eyed when I watched this video clip about Chris Paul (NBA basketball player) scoring 61 points in a high school game in tribute to his deceased 61 year old grandfather. After seeing this video years ago, Chris Paul became one of my favourite players and I don't know how for the life of me, an NBA executive (like the Atlanta Hawks) could have passed over this impressive young man in the NBA draft after seeing this clip. I can't watch Schindler's List anymore because of the scene where Oskar Schindler questions himself of what he could have done more even after saving the lives of so many. I remember trying not to tear up at the end of "The Return of the King" when Aragorn and the rest of Gondor kneel down to the four hobbits. I was overcome thinking about the four hobbits' long journey and their selfless acts to help the others. I get frustrated at times because I feel like there is no rhyme and reason at times with when I get emotional. Frankly, it is a bit embarrassing which situations get me choked up.

So there I was on April 5, 2008, at home by myself wiping away some tears from my eyes at the end of a CBC Hockey Night in Canada broadcast at the age of 32. What a wimp. I even laughed at how stupid I must have looked, but when Jarome Iginla and the Calgary Flames formed that line-up to shake hands with Trevor Linden, I couldn't help myself. This was a player that gave his heart to our city. He was a player that tried his best to be selfless. He was a man that I looked up to in my younger years and respected in my older years.

I have attended many Canucks games over the years, but Wednesday's retirement ceremony is one of the most anticipated games of my life. Somehow, I feel like I owe it to Trevor Linden to applaud him for how much we appreciated his work on the team and in the community over the years. I want to somehow let him know that sports matters and he matters to us. I cannot wait to be there to see his jersey retired.

So, why do we have such an attachment to this man in this day and age where winning is everything? He has never won a Stanley Cup. He never won a major NHL award. In fact, you could argue that his career was not that impressive from a statistics stand point, especially when you compare him to Mike Modano who is still playing at a high level right now even though they were both drafted one spot away from each other. I think the fact that he is so well liked in this city is a bit of a miracle. He is proof that if you do things the right way and if you treat people with respect that you can still be popular in this day and age of me-first self-promoting idiots like Terrell Owens or Sean Avery. T. Linden as I liked to call him did things the right way.

Trevor Linden: The First Meeting

I don't remember what the exact month (but it felt like fall) or the exact date, but I know the first time I met Trevor Linden in person was in 1989-1990. Though the date is vague, the details of my first meeting with Trevor Linden are vivid. I was in grade eight and I remember walking by the Safeway on 64th Avenue and Scott Road in North Delta, when I noticed an innocuous poster announcing that Trevor Linden would be appearing on a Saturday to sign autographs. I had been a loyal Canuck follower for years, but it had been tough as a child following a bunch of perennial losers that got their plates repeatedly handed to them by the heavyweights of the Smythe Division. The Calgary Flames and the Edmonton Oilers toyed with the teams that I grew up with and as a fan I never knew what it felt like to cheer for true superstars like a Wayne Gretzky or a Lanny McDonald. Sure we had Stan Smyl and Tony Tanti, but the sort of players were hard-working at best.

When Trevor Linden came to town, I was just one of many people that gravitated to this young man. Linden fit the mold of a hard working Canuck, but he possessed more skill. After coming in second place in the Calder Trophy voting, Vancouverites felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that we finally had a player that might truly become the superstar that we have never had.

I remember walking by myself to the Safeway, since it was very close to my house. This day was forever etched into my mind, because it was proof of exactly how much Trevor Linden had won over the hearts of a city so quickly. I remember the line-up snaking around the brown brick building of Safeway going right around the corner and turning down 64th Avenue. I felt like all the participants involved could not have predicted how big a turn-out there would be. I remember waiting in line for well over an hour before I entered the doors and saw that the lineup stretched up to the produce section where there was a single table with a gangly guy sitting there. Trevor Linden looked skinny to me.

The signing session was supposed to only go for a couple of hours, but it seemed like the line-up never got shorter. I started getting nervous thinking that I would make my way up to the table only to see the time cut short. As I drew closer to the table, my eyes were transfixed on Trevor Linden. I could tell he was annoyed and agitated. I could see that his body language was one of annoyance as he recognized the fact that Safeway had lost control over the crowd and the line-up would not abate. However, even though I was a bit disappointed by his curt manner (he wasn't really smiling when he was signing things nor did he really make any small talk with many of the people as they got things signed) even as a simple-minded grade eight, I could understand why he was a bit unnerved. The autograph session was running well past the alloted time and here he was stuck in North Delta of all places. I could see Trevor Linden having a discussion with some of the people in charge and his displeasure was evident. The Safeway staff announced that Linden would only be signing one thing per person. But even with the chaos, Trevor Linden stayed for the entire time and made sure he finished signing for every person in line. The huge gathering of people was a barometer of how well liked Linden was. He just connected with us. I can't think of many other bonds out there in sports that matches the affection we have for this one individual.

How did I know it was 1989-1990 when I first met Trevor Linden? I remember the one item that I got Trevor Linden to autograph. It was his rookie card and the hockey card companies back then only released a player's rookie card the year after. I can conjure up the image of the card immediately as I write this. Linden has his helmet off with his back bent and his upper body supported by his stick resting on his knees. I remember looking at his signature on the rookie card and seeing the big swooshing "T" and the cursive "L" followed by a trail of little waves as if produced by a seismograph only to be punctuated by a small circle as if rising like the sun over the waves in the Pacific. I looked at that signature a lot and I felt an immense sense of satisfaction as I walked back home. I had gotten Trevor Linden to autograph his rookie card. It was my prized possession only surpassed by my Mario Lemieux rookie card.

Our Second Meeting Followed Quickly by Our Third Meeting

I met Trevor Linden two more times in person. Both were about 4 years ago when I was volunteering at Camp Goodtimes, a place for kids with cancer or recovering from cancer. Both years, Trevor Linden came out for one day with little fanfare. He drove himself up to the camp and immediately interacted with the kids. He was amazing with the kids and you could tell he just knew how to get along with them. There was no air of pretension and he was simply there to be involved and help out as he could. He participated in all the activities with the kids and I fully expected him to leave after an hour yet there he was staying right through the afternoon. I remember the second year that he came out, we had a giant mashed potato fight and there was Linden in the midst of it all slinging mashed potatoes back and forth with everybody. I have a great group photo of Linden and a bunch of us campers covered in mashed potatoes. I only wish I could find it as it was lost when my hard drive crashed this summer. You read all this stuff about athletes like Linden that say "He was a great guy" or "He is like a regular guy helping out" and you feel a bit skeptical towards these statements. Yet, seeing Trevor Linden in action for two summers, it was clear to me why he was such a positive force in our community. How could you not like this charismatic guy? And of course, he seemed so different from the first time I saw him in public many years ago.

After his last game in April, Linden was quoted as saying:
"You know, sometimes I ask myself that because I'm overwhelmed. I'm flattered. I feel extremely fortunate, blessed, the way things have gone. But I have to be honest with you: I ask myself that, too. Sometimes I almost feel kind of like: Who deserves this? I can't begin to say the effect it had on me. I'm a guy from Medicine Hat who played a game he loved, and to get that kind of response was really amazing."

And I think Trevor Linden is being much too modest. I feel glad knowing that for once we are giving someone recognition where it is due. Yes, he is just a sports athlete, but I think many Vancouverites will agree that he has been much more than that for us over the years. And that is why I know all of us will be completely eager to cheer Linden on and say that he does deserve it. T. Linden, we applaud you.

Some of My Favourite Memories of T. Linden:
A lot of them appear in this nice video montage from the Georgia Straight. I am sure there are plenty others that I have missed.
-Raising the Campbell Conference Trophy as the lid fell off. That was back before the stupid tradition where the players don't touch the trophy anymore.
-Scoring two goals in the finals of Game 7.
-Jim Robson's call of Trevor Linden during Game 6 of the 1994 playoffs. I get chills every time I hear Robson's call, "He'll be there, you know he will be there. Game seven. Madison Square Garden!"
-Seeing Trevor Linden come back to Vancouver.
-Scoring two goals last year against Calgary. That should have been enough to rally the Canucks into the playoffs. That was painful not seeing Linden get one more crack in the playoffs.
-The classy move by Iginla to form the traditional handshake line only done during the end of a playoffs series

Thanks for reading.

Why Do Sports Matter? Part I of II

Or "An Indirect Tribute to Trevor Linden"

I am a sports fanatic. There I said it. I admit it. Often, when you are a sports fanatic and this fact is revealed to people you feel like a bit childish especially at my age. I have now accepted who I am and that I like following many different types of sports. I think I have a better perspective now and I recognize that in the sports really doesn't matter when you weigh all the wonderful things in life.

Or does it?

That is essentially the crux of my discussion. With the Trevor Linden jersey retirement ceremony quickly approaching on Wednesday, I took full stock of how much of a sports fanatic I am. I casually stated that "sports don't matter", because I would feel hard-pressed trying to say that they do matter when you stack up sports against love, family, work, friends, and the other finer points of life. But I think that would be hypocritical of me to callously to blow off sports considering I read about sports everyday, listen to sports everyday, and think about sports at many points during my day. What does it say when the two more enjoyable times of the week is playing ice hockey with my group of friends? Or reading about every Vancouver Canuck article at night? Or pouring through my fantasy basketball team to carefully consider whether or not to drop Chris Duhon in favour of TJ Ford (I am real close to doing so, but I just don't trust TJ Ford's recent streak of injury free games.)

So maybe I have to say that I know for plenty of people that sports don't matter. And that is fine by me. I just don't think it is fair for others to give me grief about being a die-hard fan or to scoff and wonder why I care so much about the Vancouver Canucks (I just about wrote "my Vancouver Canucks" as somehow I had more than an emotional investment in the team). If people say that in the big scheme of things (what a cliche) that sports truly don't matter, then what does that say about me? That I don't matter? That my life doesn't matter since so much of it has been linked to sports?

And when I started to write all of this out I recognized that even my explanations feel flimsy with little substance. And that almost makes me feel a bit depressed that this is who I am at this time. My life is littered with a litany of sporting events. Some of my most vivid memories from my youth are tied to sports.

I was a late bloomer for a sports fanatic. I don't think I became a true blue Vancouver Canucks fan until grade four. My dad wasn't the biggest hockey fan, but he was always a fan of the best athlete in any sport. He could appreciate brilliance. So he was always a Jack Nicklaus fan. And for hockey in the 80s that meant he was a Wayne Gretzky fan. I being a logical kid gravitated towards the Vancouver Canucks at the time, which was a painful way to grow up. Kids these days (I sound so old) don't realize how much better they have it as a Canuck fan. We forget how much of a punching bag our teams were. How terrible we were. How the Edmonton Oilers and the Calgary Flames toyed with us. We were stuck in the Smythe Division with two of the best teams from the 80s. You know things are bad as a hockey fan when the best you could say about some of your favourite players were, "He works hard." or "Wow, he got a point tonight." or "He was amazing making 38 saves in a 6-2 loss." The fact that Frank Caprice was one of my favourite goaltenders for the Canucks speaks volumes about the dearth of quality players in comparison to the Gretzkys, Kurris, Loobs, Ottos, and MacDonalds of the world. But, commencing a tirade about the depressing times as a Canuck fan is not my goal (ie Neely trade). Let's get back on track.

My dad would take me to one game or so every year to the Pacific Coliseum. Of course, we would always see the Edmonton Oilers play against my beloved Canucks. And at times I hated it, because I knew the outcome before I even took my seat. But it was a yearly ritual that I enjoyed with my dad. I only wish I could have appreciated the sheer brilliance of seeing someone of Gretzky's stature live. Many fond memories between my dad and I were because of sports. I remember my dad taking me to an exhibition baseball game against the Montreal Expos. I can't remember the team they played against but I clearly remember the Expos hat my dad bought me. I remember staring at that weird symbol everyday wondering what the heck the red, white, and blue meant. I had no clue as a kid that the logo was an "M".

I remember in grade 6 or 7 attending my first real baseball game. It was during a family vacation driving down the West Coast from Vancouver to San Francisco. To save money, we stayed in a hotel in Oakland, which felt a little dangerous at the time. Our hotel was very close to where the Oakland Athletics played. My dad suggested that since we were there to go see a game. We walked a few blocks and got tickets to see the Athletics play the New York Yankees. I did not follow baseball that much at the time and I happened to see the Yankees when they were a brutal team. Three clear things stood out for me on that evening. One, standing up and being super confused when the singing of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" occurred in the seventh inning stretch. I thought I had walked into a cult witnessing everybody around me standing up and signing the song with much fervor and zeal. Second, my mom and my sister stayed at the hotel, so going to the game was a true father bonding experience. It was a shared experience and it felt so special. Third, I remember my mom telling us the next day that our father was so tired, because he was so worried about our vehicle that he stayed up all night watching it through the window of our hotel. My parents were so good to us.

These small moments in time with my dad and sports makes me recognize how important these events were to me growing up. I still own five pennants that are currently hanging up in my classroom at school which are mementos from the live events that I attended with my dad. One Oilers, one Penguins, one Canucks, one Flames, and one BC Lions pennant are hanging side by side. My dad took me to see some of the greats. We saw my favourite player, Mario Lemieux, together. My father and I went to game three of the 1994 Stanley Cup Finals together. We bought them at the spur of the moment, two expensive tickets (about $100 each at the time) that were the last row of the Pacific Coliseum. And even though they were the last row, to me, in grade 12, they were simply perfect. My dad knew how much I wanted to go. And I remember with clarity so many details of that game. I can't even remember what I ate yesterday, yet I remember the spine-chilling anthem and how loud that Coliseum was. When Pavel Bure scored on a breakaway in minute into the game I literally thought I was going to pass out in excitement. The roof of that old Coliseum threatened to blow off. The sound was deafening. The euphoria of the crowd was intoxicating. I thought I was in for the best night of my life. Of course, that was the game where Bure was thrown out for elbowing Beukeboom in the face and then the Alex Kovalev show started and then Brian Leetch exerted his will. I hate that guy.

Looking back, those shared moments with my dad are invaluable. They are moments that are firmly impressed in my mind. I wouldn't trade those shared moments for anything. And writing all this I realize that it is about time I took my dad to a hockey game. We haven't been to one together in a long, long time.

Do sports matter? They do for me.

They matter enough to me that I slept outside Shoppers Drug Mart with my UBC friends overnight to purchase tickets to see the Vancouver Grizzlies play the Chicago Bulls. I simply had to see Michael Jordan in person.
They matter enough for me to drive down to Seattle to see Steve Nash and Lebron James.
They matter enough to me that I can vividly remember gathering with the entire neighbourhood to see Ben Johnson's record breaking 100 m run.
They matter enough to me that our entire family woke up to see Korea play in the World Cup at 4 am in the morning.
They matter enough to me that I can think of so many different sporting events that brought friends and I together.

I can remember hugging my friend Kavie (grown adults!) in sheer jubiliation when Trent Klatt scored the winning OT goal against the Minnesota Wild.

I remember the shocking silence in GM Place when the Ducks scored the overtime winner in the playoffs. Sudden death indeed. It was the weirdest feeling and to hear only the whooping delight of the Anaheim Ducks on the ice only made it that much more painful.

I can remember jumping and hugging my friends in Marc Gauthier's den when the Blue Jays won the World Series on Joe Carter's blast. Sports has always provided me with entertainment. Just when you think the improbably can't happen it does. I remember during that run the Jays were down in the ninth inning to Dennis Eckersley (The Oakland Athletics) the greatest closer of all time, yet somehow Roberto Alomar took him deep (he was not a home run hitter) to win the game.

I remember being in Mike Chipman's house watching Kirk McLean's amazing save and then after Bure scored the OT winner, phoning my friend, Greg Bruce, a true Calgary Flames fan and yelling at him and then simply hanging up.

The fact that I don't even have to truly explain the above sentence and what year that was shows how sports can connect us and bring us together. Sports can bring a sense of community. Sports for me is the greatest stage and is a open display to all the wonderful and ugly aspects of human nature. That 1994 run was one of the best times to live in Vancouver. You could talk to anyone on the streets. Everyone had a smile. But then to see the 1994 riots reminded us how stupid we could be as well. That 1994 run showcased the entire spectrum of human behaviour.

I could go on and on about all the examples of how much sports has been intertwined in my life over the years. Sports has mattered to me in my life. From the mundane trivia to the trash talking hockey pools that keep me connected with my friends, the fact that I had no problem writing the last couple of paragraphs and that all of these memories are streaming out of my head in a jumbled mess reminds me that sports do matter. I apologize if the last four paragraphs got sloppy. My fingers couldn't keep up with the flood of memories.

Come back tomjavascript:void(0)orrow to read another lengthy diatribe:

Part II: Since sports matters, why does Trevor Linden matter so much to me and other fans of this city?

Who Got What for the 2010 Olympics?

Well, I received my email notification for the 2010 Olympics tickets. I used two accounts and I think had all my tickets actually came through, I would have been on the hook for about $8000 worth of tickets. Damn Vanoc and their cleverness knowing that someone like me would be crazy for hockey tickets.

My wife's account: NO TICKETS! Not one.
My account? Two tickets for the men's quarterfinal game. Two tickets for the finals in short track skating (Go Korea!)

I guess I should be happy with what I got, because I am only on the hook for $300, but I am disappointed that I didn't get some more hockey tickets.

Two of my friends scored semi-finals tickets. I want to know if anyone out there knows someone who actually got finals tickets (for hockey of course). My sister actually did score tickets to the second most coveted tickets in town... figure skating. She got 4 tickets to the women's free program and 2 tickets to the pairs free program. I am trying hard to convince my sister to sell the tickets for a small ransom so the Kim family can retire for one month.

OK, as I write more and more, I am getting a bit choked that one of our accounts led to zero tickets.

OK, let's hear what some of you got.

On the "Fringe"

That has to be one of the worst puns I have used in awhile.

I am still undecided about Fox's new show "Fringe". Sometimes the show gets too hokey and I don't like how the music is pretty much the soundtrack of LOST (same composer). I was encouraged by the last week's episode, so I will follow it into the new year.

I suspected that The Observer was in a lot more scenes after seeing him randomly in one episode. This nice collection of clips from Fox confirms it. If you have been watching this show, then you will know what I mean. Otherwise, this clip will just plain annoy you.

Anticipation for Lost

The days are blurring very quickly and I swear my working day just goes up in flames once I enter the doors of the school. I don't know whether I am coming or going sometimes. The holidays are quickly approaching and out of the chaotic swirl that surrounds me I saw this bright light, one that represents a huge amount of anticipation within me.

January 21st can't come fast enough.