The Wilson play recently reminded me of the unspoken rules of old time hockey.
Years ago in Montreal my classmates were introducing me to the game. We would all go on Wednesday early and get standing room tickets and watch the Montreal Canadians, a great team at the time. One night the Canadians were getting badly beaten by the Leafs; a local hero who played for the Leafs got all three goals and the crowd had turned against the home team. Late in the period a Leafs rookie--Malone, I think--scored, his first in his career. He was thrilled and sought out the puck as a keepsake. A defenseman, furious at the turn of events, dropped his gloves and sucker-punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
The crowd around me went silent, then everyone stood.
"What's happening?" I asked.
"That was a terrible foul," I was told--even if by the home team.
"But what is everyone doing?"
"Waiting for Orland Kurtenbach."
"What's that," I asked.
"Toronto's fighting center.' (Apparently a rare breed.)
"What are they waiting for?"
My companion looked at me curiously. "For justice, " he said.
Indeed, moments later, Orland Kurtenbach came over the boards, he and the defenseman (Terry Harper, I think,) met in front of the net, squared off and Kurtenbach knocked him unconscious with a professional looking left hook.
Years ago in Montreal my classmates were introducing me to the game. We would all go on Wednesday early and get standing room tickets and watch the Montreal Canadians, a great team at the time. One night the Canadians were getting badly beaten by the Leafs; a local hero who played for the Leafs got all three goals and the crowd had turned against the home team. Late in the period a Leafs rookie--Malone, I think--scored, his first in his career. He was thrilled and sought out the puck as a keepsake. A defenseman, furious at the turn of events, dropped his gloves and sucker-punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
The crowd around me went silent, then everyone stood.
"What's happening?" I asked.
"That was a terrible foul," I was told--even if by the home team.
"But what is everyone doing?"
"Waiting for Orland Kurtenbach."
"What's that," I asked.
"Toronto's fighting center.' (Apparently a rare breed.)
"What are they waiting for?"
My companion looked at me curiously. "For justice, " he said.
Indeed, moments later, Orland Kurtenbach came over the boards, he and the defenseman (Terry Harper, I think,) met in front of the net, squared off and Kurtenbach knocked him unconscious with a professional looking left hook.
No comments:
Post a Comment