The Jaws of Defeat

Note to self: It’s never a good sign when TV cameras are milling around, particularly if you are walking to work. One minute you re a fully fleshed out human being with a past, a family, a career. In an instant you become the “man on the street”, John Q. Public, or whomever’s supposed to be speaking out for the concrete proletariat. A reporter from a radio station flagged me down to get my opinion on the issues of the day. My first instinct was to refuse, but then I thought if I didn’t like to be heard, why was I shooting my mouth off on the internet on a regular basis?

It turns out the reason that the news cameras were gathered was to gawk at the high gas prices, currently $1.26 a liter. The reporter wanted to know if I thought they were too high. I didn’t have much of an opinion since the practicum I was going to was in walking distance of my house. When I fill up, I do so in Abbotsford out of the range of pesky GVRD taxes. Even with the taxes, the gas is still too cheap to significantly affect my lifestyle

The insight potential of the price of gas having been exhausted, we moved on to the Canucks, their playoff run cut short just 12 hours before. The reporter wanted to know how upset I was at their performance. Sure their offense was painful to watch, but it wasn’t enough to drive me to take to the streets. I replied, “Living with constant defeat is part of being a Canucks fan”

I think that the best thing about following the Canucks is that every victory is a Cinderella story. The inconsistent performance of the team makes every goal that much sweeter. I’m not sure what it’s like to be a hockey fan in other cities, but because we know that victory can be ripped from our clutches any time, the amount of superstition that follows the Canucks elevates the game to a kind of religion. People stop shaving, wave the towels, put up the flags, some fans even go so far as to bet against the Canucks to use their rotten luck as gamblers to increase Vancouver’s chances.

It just wouldn’t be the same if the Canucks owned the league every year. If could simply trust our team to take home the cup every year, there would be no reason for the yelling, the face paint, or the superstitions. I have a feeling that Vancouver wants that Stanley cup more than any city on the continent. As soon as that game 7 final overtime goal is scored, the player’s shoulder pads will suddenly be able to heal the sick, GM place will be worshipped as holy ground, and homeless people will be waving pamphlets asking you if you have found Luongo.