BYI post #19: Little Bro

Although you would never know by the actual “comments” sections of these blog posts, I do in fact receive several comments by other means.  My wife and daughter say nice things in person, my parents say nice things on the phone, and my brother Jaimie says nice things via e-mail.  And just recently, Jaimie suggested that I blog a bit about how my “little bro became such a feared power forward.”  OK, dude, you asked for it.  Better getcha popcorn ready, ‘cause this blog entry is gonna be epic.



Fierce.

Dad told me one time that he didn’t put us in hockey - and build the backyard rink - to make us NHLers.  He just wanted us to be good enough so that we would be able to play some pick-up later on in life and and not suck too badly.  Growing up, I was good enough to play with and against some good hockey players, notably Andrew McKim, who played in the NHL a bit and tore up the AHL for a few seasons.  I also played against a pretty decent hockey player for FHS named Matt Stairs, who was even better at another sport (check out this link).  After intramural hockey at University, and when I moved away, one of the first things I did in my new town was to call the local Recreation Department and ask about gentlemen’s hockey.  That was almost 20 years ago, and I am still playing with a great bunch of guys every Friday night.

Jaimie was a better hockey player than I was - he played a good amount of high-level hockey - and the “feared power forward” tag is actually fairly accurate.  His favourite player growing up was Bryan Trottier and he kind of modeled his game after him (and, of course 19 was his favourite number).  Jaimie could put the points on the board like Bossy’s set-up man, but I’d say he was more aggressive than good ol’ Trots.  He also played with and against several good players, but the most… lets say interesting teammate he had was a guy named Andy Bezeau.

Sometimes, after we got bored of practicing our shots or skating or whatever on the backyard rink, Jaimie and I would practice our fighting.  We discovered that it was a good idea to whip off your gloves into your opponent's face instead of dropping them, then follow up with the knuckles.  Fighting was never a big aspect of my game, but Jaimie would put those particular finely-tuned skills to use on occasion.  However, Bezeau was in a category all his own.



Hurrikanes #19

Jaimie and Bezeau played together on the Saint John Pepsis, which was the top Midget team in southern New Brunswick.  Well, I say they played “together” but technically either one or the other guy was in the box for a good portion of many games, and when they weren’t “feeling shame” they were scoring goals.  Bezeau went on to play hockey for several minor-pro teams for about 10 seasons, but I’d have to say his most notable season was with the Fort Wayne Komets in 1995-96.  Here are the stats for that year, according to hockeyDB.com: 74 GP, 10 G, 11A, 21 Pts, 590 PIM.  Yes, 590 PIM….almost 10 full hours.  And, thanks to YouTube, you can enjoy plenty of Andy Bezeau’s handiwork.  My favourite is the one where he fights the opposing team’s bench.

Being born almost two and a half years apart meant that Jaimie and I were never on the same team growing up.  We did play against each other in an exhibition game once, when he was on the High School team and I was on a Juvenile team.  We actually collided during the game, right in front of Mom, and I think she may have fainted.

Of course, we eventually ended up on the same team not that long ago at the World Pond Hockey Championships. In our famous game against Brian Skrudland, Jaimie was battling with a couple of Skrudland’s teammates, and after some impressive little moves he came out with control of the puck. I happened to be skating next to Skrudland at the time, and Skrudland quietly said, kind of to himself, “that guy’s a good hockey player.”

Hey man…that guy’s my little bro.

L-R: Jaimie, me, another guy, Brian Skrudland



Old Friends

A couple of posts ago, I wrote briefly about the pond that Dad pumped water from to flood the old rink in Titusville, and how we sometimes skated on the pond...as proven by the picture of my brother Jaimie in his snazzy orange pants.  And, one of the lines from my very first blog entry went like this:

When I was a kid, we lived in the country and my father made a rink every year for about a dozen years. My brother and I spent the most time on it, but the only other neighbourhood kids our age - four boys - spent a good chunk of their winters on it too.

Well, an interesting thing happened in the comments section for that recent article.  Actually, two interesting things.

The first interesting thing was that I received comments from two guys about synthetic ice, since I also mentioned synthetic ice in that post.  You can check out more about their products at their websites, for Global Synthetic Ice and IcePro.  Great-looking stuff, but certainly not in the budget for my rink.

The other interesting thing was receiving a comment from one of the "other neighbourhood kids our age," Steve Sabean, who happened onto my blog via my Facebook page.  Steve, his brothers Mike & Mark, and the other neighbourhood kid - Mark Smith - could all tell you about the rink, since they and Jaimie and I basically grew up on that ice.  As Steve said in his comment, "I sure remember all those winter days spent on the Kane hockey rink.  The good ole days."  Thanks for stopping by and saying hello, Steve!

And, since no Backyard Ice blog entry is complete without a picture (OK, actually, there is one blog entry without an illustration of some sort), here you go:

That, my friends, is me on the famous Kane rink in Titusville, showing off in my hockey gear and my favourite team's jersey. This picture is all kinds of awesome, but I'll point out three great things: (1) Snowbanks! (2) Cooperalls!! (3) Hair!!!

Joe, Bob, Terry and Jim

I just got back from a family reunion, and seeing my father and his three brothers together has inspired this post.  I remembered seeing this old picture and realized that it would be a great starting point for an article:

So, behind the net is my uncle Joe, and from left to right are my father Bob and my uncles Terry and Jim.  I "interviewed" Joe & Dad for this story, so Terry and Jim: any errors or omissions are their fault.

This picture was taken on Shaw Lake in Golden Grove, East Saint John N.B. (click on the aerial photo to enlarge).  It was taken in the winter of 1959 (they think) by their father, at which point Joe was (or was on his way to becoming) a star player for Simonds High School.  Yes, Terry, he actually was a star...I've seen the newspaper clippings.  Apparently they talked Terry into putting the goalie pads on, most likely with the threat of violence if he didn't.  At the very least, he should have been beaten up for wearing that sweater.

The best story about this picture might actually be about the boards in the background.  They were in 4 by 8 foot sections and were made by the neighbourhood fathers while drinking a batch of beet wine from a bathtub.  (I wonder if Walter Gretzky ever did that?)  The boards were put on the ice as soon as it was possible to do so.  In the spring, they were laid flat on the ground and used as a "floor" for ball hockey until the roads and driveways were dry enough to play on.

I'm sure lots of Canadian families have memories of skating on lakes many years ago, and I'm glad my grandfather took this picture of his sons so that one day they could be the focus of an entry in my little blog about skating outdoors.

Of course, skating wasn't only restricted to Shaw Lake.  One winter, there was an ice storm that covered the roads with ice and closed the schools.  Joe and my father took advantage of the long skating rink and skated to Exhibition Park, at least 4 miles away from their house.  During this time, the sun came out and melted the ice on the road, so Joe and Dad got home the only way possible...they walked in their sock feet.  I guess Joe got blamed for this because he was the oldest, just like he got blamed the first time Jim swore at their mother...where else is he gonna hear that kind of language?

Backyard Ice: Summer Edition

I never intended for this blog to be a “how-to” blog. There are enough of those out there, and there are almost as many different ways to build backyard rinks as there are backyards, climates, and budgets. Rather, my aim for this blog was, as good ol' Dickie Dunn put it, to capture the spirit of the thing. And, since the spirit of a backyard rink is not too strong in the summertime, here are a few random thoughts on backyard ice.

Item #1:
There is such a thing as synthetic ice.  Charlottetown had a 3-on-3 hockey tournament on fake ice as part of their summer festival (see here); I'd like to know how that went.  But in doing a small bit of research on synthetic ice, I can report with a fair amount of confidence that it would cost thousands of dollars to put fake ice on my backyard rink.  (An article I read said that it costs about $3500 to outfit an average basement with synthetic ice.)  One marketing angle that the manufacturers of fake ice use is that it gives your kids an advantage over other kids in their development as hockey players...I wonder if some NHL team would fund my rink in exchange for the rights to any players who are a product of it?

Item#2:

From my first blog entry: "Dad had a small fish pond nearby, and flooded the rink with a sump-pump and water from the pond."  So here, pulled straight from the family archives, is a picture of my brother Jaimie on the pond:

Many people are aware that Jaimie is a darn good hockey player.  But what they don't know is that he has always been a very stylish man...note that his hat and pants match perfectly. 

Item#3:
Here is a line from the song "700 ft. Ceiling" by The Tragically Hip :

In our own backyard, we can do some floodin' / when it's cold and dark, don't have to think or nothin'

...now, I wonder what that's all about...?

Item #4:

So, as you complain about the heat and humidity, shoo away some black flies and swat some mosquitos, just remember that in a few short months all this nasty summer stuff will be a memory...