another reason why it’s wise to love thy neighbours
All respect due to the Boston Bruins. They were clearly the better team. Goalie
Tim Thomas was phenomenal. Since hockey pre-season starts in about three
months, the Canucks and fans can renew their hopes soon enough.
About those fans. The few hundred who broke windows, looted, burned cars and
fought each other in downtown Vancouver right after the game no more represent
Canadians than Fred Phelps represents Christians. True, hockey is an aggressive
game. I’m still not certain at what point the referees decide players have wailed on
each other enough. But boxing is even more violent, and its fans don’t usually riot.
The day after the game I was helping with traffic control on our road. An excavator
was filling trucks with rock from a quarry right beside it. A few years ago, a huge
outcropping had been repeatedly blasted to create 13,000 cubic yards of rubble for
a project on the south end of the island.
The project ended up only needing 5000 cubic yards, so there has been a lot of
loose rock, some of which occasionally tumbles onto the road. The fellow running
the excavator told me that working with that much rubble was extremely danger-
ous. He said the top of the outcropping was nicknamed “Ass Puckerer’s Corner”.
The new project required about 20 truckloads of rock to build up the boat ramp in
our bay. This allowed the removal of so much rock that the road by the quarry is
now much safer and wider.
The point of all of that is this: through the day, I saw almost all of my neighbours.
I was able share sympathies with the hockey fans, get updates from those who had
recently been stricken with a community-wide bug, and find out the latest from Al
the Mayor about his troublesome generator. The contact with them was good for
my soul, erasing whatever pain I felt about the Canucks’ loss.
It continues to amaze me how much of the socializing along the road is done on the
road itself.
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Well said, Allen — – – – and from my perspective, it’s still only a GAME – not the end of the world; a GAME, which fans are supposed to enjoy, not riot over. Maybe too much to drink, too much macho whatever – maybe just need the exercise to keep warm?!
Jude and I watched the riot on TV until midnight. It had nothing to do with hockey, or even exercise. It was mostly young male drunks provoking police. When one guy pushed a cop, the cop pushed back. The guy turned to run, flattening a woman behind him. The TV anchors didn’t help much. They repeatedly called the rioters “hooligans”. I learned on the Fair Park Pow Wow that journalists don’t judge. In fact, the coverage reminded me of the loathsome way L.A. TV stations depicted the Rodney King riots. Reporters and anchors could not refrain from injecting their opinions. They would have done better letting the rioters speaking for themselves. One newsman asked a looter leaving a CD store what kind of music he stole. “Gospel,” he replied, “because I love Jesus.”