***They Play Hockey In Heaven available at http://immortalcounsel.com ***
Copyright © 2013 Peter Wilson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Cover: Jason Altilia
To Dad, Mom, Tom and Jamie
“On the frozen pond of your life, skate - so that in good stride there shall be no trips or falls for yourself or for any skater. Seek the puck everywhere, and when it is found, bring it out and move it towards the opposition’s net. Place in missed shots and passes the least of value, for these things will happen and happen again. Discover in all systems and passing plays things that work. Commend and celebrate the efforts of your teammates. Ignore the obvious, for it is unworthy of the clear eye and the kindly heart. Be the best player you can, but never should any man again wear the number 99. Remember that every man is a variation of yourself. No man's skill is not yours, nor is any man's mistakes a thing apart. Despise dirty play, but not dirty players. These, understand. Have no shame in playing fair but if the time comes to slash, slash and have no regret. On the frozen pond of your life, skate - so that in this wondrous time you shall not disrespect the game, but shall smile to the infinite enjoyment and simple fun of it.”
‘In The Time of Your Life’ from The Time of Your Life by William Saroyan
amended for hockey
by Peter Wilson
“Never can tell what might come down
Never can tell how much you got
Just don't know, no you never can tell”
Chapter 7
The Canadian Dream
I hear the music on the speakers in the back seat of Dad’s old Buick. I think it is Dire Straits. I am 12 years old. My brother sits beside me and looks out the window at the snow falling outside. My brother and I were so competitive growing up that my Dad used to make us both sit in the back seat to avoid any argument about who got to sit in the front, beside him. Being the eldest, I always felt it unfair that I didn’t get the front, proving my Dad’s point. We continued to drive further and further away from the city. The buildings and homes turned to snow covered fields and mountain ranges. The snow plowed concrete of the city faded into a snow covered dirt road. The mountains in the distance attracted my attention. I know we are going there but I don’t know why. The Buick glides over the terrain, with just the crunch of fresh snow under our tires. The sun is high in the sky and gives the scenery a layer of heavenliness.
My brother rushes out of the car even before the Buick has come to a full stop. I watch him race around to the back. He knocks twice on the trunk and the hatch pops open. He reaches in and grabs his hockey bag and sticks. I still sit in the Buick dumbfounded. Where are we? We aren’t even close to the old rink. What kind of hockey could be going on out here? Before I can decide what to do next Alex appears at my window.
“Come on!”
The steam from his breath thaws a patch on the car window and I see we are parked right beside the same mountain range I had admired from a distance. I get out of the car slowly taking in the sheer size of the mountains in front of us. Walking around to the back of the car I see my hockey bag and sticks, ready for me. I grab them and chase after Alex who has found a path leading closer to the base of the mountains. My hockey equipment is weightless and my curiosity is beginning to take over. I realize I never saw exactly who was driving the Buick. Was it my Dad? I now see what Alex is racing towards. A frozen pond at the base of the mountain. A perfect patch of ice has been shoveled and two empty nets have been placed at either end of the ice. I know why I am here. I am here to play hockey.
