As the home opener for the Vancouver Canucks drew to a dismal close on Saturday night, I realized I was already into the season of what I call being a “hockey widow.”
No, I don’t get up with the kids at 5 a.m. for practice at the rink anymore, but what I do find is that for three or four nights a week the TV is under the command of my hubby for every Vancouver game.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a big fan of Vancouver.
I have to admit, I enjoyed watching every game hometown player Dan Hamhuis ever played with the team the most.
I even have his jersey and would yell or fuss at every win or loss, but I loved watching.
These early days of the season, I like seeing who the “new talent” is and what the returning favourites look like and how the team is shaping up.
At this early point in the season, Vancouver shows promise, but so far has sucked.
Based on my hubby’s foul mood after another loss, I thought to myself this is going to be a long season.
The action will pick up, the team will gel and the wins will follow, but the reminder of this routine going on through the spring, had me decidedly blue.
It is the loss of my hubby three or four times a week that gets me down.
He’s physically in the room with me, but he goes into this sort of catatonic state, where his eyes are fixed on the game, he hears nothing around him, and he doesn’t move, except to ghost skate along with the action of the puck.
He comes out of this state in-between periods, to run grab something to snack on, pat the dogs on the head and yell “hi honey, great game,” and then he’s lost to me again for another hour.
It is a familiar routine after all these years together.
It is kind of lonely though. I’d rather go to the arena, where the cold is in the air, you can hear the skates on the ice, and others are gathered to cheer their teams on.
It is that in-person experience you don’t feel from the boob tube.
Aside from the occasional yell from the hubby, which normally startles both me and the dogs, it is quiet time.
Even the kids know not to call when the game is on.
As the season moves on, I’ll get caught up with my favourite shows on cable during the games, and, eventually, I’ll join in cheering when the run-up to the playoffs begin, but in the meantime, know I feel your pain, to those we lose to the season, no matter what team they are yelling for.
For the coming months, I’m going to check and see when the grandkids might be playing, go to a “real live” game, and maybe even check out the Steelheads games here in Smithers, and once again yell for my hometown heroes.
Yes, I will feel a little guilty leaving the hubby behind, but to be honest, I’m not sure he will notice I’m gone, for at least three hours.