by
Dan de Souza
I hope Bob Gainey never reads this. As a matter of fact, I am hesitant to tell anyone but if the story of our love of hockey must be told then I suppose I will have to violate the code and draw attention to Mr. Gainey and our hockey heroes and their humility will have to bear the bruise.
I took Bob Gainey on a canoe trip the summer he was GM of team Canada. He was looking for a getaway from the meetings around the selecting of the team that would go to Nagano and he saw the ad our little canoe tripping company placed in the paper. The Gainey’s lived in Peterborough as I did. His brother was a friend of my sister. It was rumoured that Gainey would skate on the lake sometimes. The Captain of the Montreal Canadiens, six time Stanley Cup champion. The player the Russians called “the world’s greatest player.” The man the Selke Trophy was invented for, my childhood idol, was going to be on my canoe trip.
Superheroes in Canada arrive in rented sedans with a back pack. Everything Gainey did that weekend was unassuming; the first to pitch in to pump water, to cut wood, to portage. He spoke very little, as did I, but I watched him like a kid on a Saturday night. He put everyone ahead of himself. He listened politely to the advice from one of his fellow paddlers who was sure Gretzky should not be selected because “all he does is score goals.”
But there’s one conversation that still resonates.
Another traveler told Gainey how much she loved watching him play and Gainey, after looking up in the summer night sky said to her: “That’s very nice. Thank you. But I wonder if what you really loved, was being around the tv with your family on a Saturday night, you know. It was that time with your family that you really loved. I just happened to be there.”
Gainey was almost right.
I remember with great fondness watching the game with my Dad on a Saturday night and hiding under the coffee table in the hopes that I could stay up past the first intermission. I remember Gainey beating my Dad’s Leafs over and over again. It’s that Saturday night, that warmth of home, that comfort of family with us that we love about our game.
I am hesitant to tell you this story because my hero, Bob Gainey, might not approve. Hockey is played by people of ordinary proportions who prefer the corners to the center. They live in our towns. Their siblings are friends of our siblings. They arrive in vans and station wagons with hockey bags and tape. They coach our kids and organize the 50/50. There is no desire in them to be recognized or to be put first but they are not “just there”. Rather, that humility, that work ethic and selflessness of our heroes is who we are.
