Based on Roch Carrier’s classic Canadian children’s story, I have adapted the story to show what would be the experience of young child now.
Story
by Trevor Banks
The winters of my childhood were long, long seasons. We lived in about 14 places with access to after-school programs, ski hills, shopping malls, camps, church and multiple skating rinks. But we had no real life of our own. So to show our individual pride, we looked to our hockey sweaters.
I remember very well the winter of 2006. We all wore the same uniforms as our heroes in the NHL, the best hockey league in the world. We laced our skates like Mats Sundin; we taped our sticks like Jason Spezza; we bookmarked the latest blogs about our heroes. Truly we knew everything there was to know about everybody in our hockey pool.
by Trevor Banks
The winters of my childhood were long, long seasons. We lived in about 14 places with access to after-school programs, ski hills, shopping malls, camps, church and multiple skating rinks. But we had no real life of our own. So to show our individual pride, we looked to our hockey sweaters.
I remember very well the winter of 2006. We all wore the same uniforms as our heroes in the NHL, the best hockey league in the world. We laced our skates like Mats Sundin; we taped our sticks like Jason Spezza; we bookmarked the latest blogs about our heroes. Truly we knew everything there was to know about everybody in our hockey pool.
On the ice, when the referee blew his whistle, we were five Dany Heatleys against five Alex Ovechkins. We were 10 players all wearing the latest uniforms, all with the same burning enthusiasm every junior player shows when he is one step away from a multi-million-dollar deal.
How could we forget that!
One day, the NHL signed a deal with Reebok. No longer was my San Jose Sharks jersey the latest one; it was last year’s model. My mother said, “Won’t you please wear this sweater? We are poor.” I refused.
Then my mother did what she always did whenever we needed new clothes. She started to look through the web pages of eBay. My mother was proud. She never wanted to buy our clothes at Wal-Mart.
My mother did not understand the workings of eBay. To order my hockey sweater, she opened her email and carefully typed, “Dear Monsieur eBay, would you be so kind as to send me a San Jose Kings hockey sweater for my son, Roch. He is 10 years old and a little bit chubby because of the Xbox games he constantly plays. I hope your shipping will be faster than it was last time.”
Monsieur eBay answered my mother’s email promptly. Four weeks later we received the sweater.
That day I had one of the greatest disappointments of my life! Instead of the new home jersey of the San Jose Sharks, Monsieur eBay had sent the gold, blue, white and silver sweater of the Nashville Predators─their third jersey. It could not be! The sweater was from two seasons ago! The numbers were ironed on, not sewn, and the name bar was of a player no longer on the team! All my friends had the new RBK jerseys. Mine was from CCM!
With tears in my eyes I found the strength to say, “I’ll never wear that uniform.”
“My boy,” said my mother, “first you are going to try it on. If you make your mind up about something before you try it, you won’t go very far in this life.”
I was crying, “I can’t wear that.”
“Why not? The sweater is a perfect fit.”
“Paul Kariya doesn’t play for the Predators anymore.”
“You’re not Paul and you’re not from Korea. Besides, it’s not what you put on your back that matters; it’s what you put inside your head.”
“You’ll never make me put in my head to wear a third jersey from Nashville.”
My mother sighed. “I can’t remove the comment I posted about how good the service was from Monsieur eBay. Further, I don’t know how to sell things on eBay, and I’m not having a garage sale in the middle of winter!”
When I arrived at the rink in my sweater, all the boys told me that Kariya was no longer a Predator, that my numbers would come off in the wash and that I taped my stick like Yashin. This third jersey weighed heavily on my shoulders.
I was told I had to wait until a spot opened up before I could take a turn on the ice. By the time it was almost dinner, I still had not played. Then the only boy who had a wooden stick broke it after skating in the corner. Finally, my chance had come!
I skated onto the ice like Owen Nolan during the All-Star game. The referee blew his whistle and gave me a penalty. He said there were already five players on the ice. That was too much! “This is persecution!” I shouted. “It’s just because my sweater is too old- fashioned!”
I crashed my stick against the ice so hard that it chipped.
I skated onto the ice like Owen Nolan during the All-Star game. The referee blew his whistle and gave me a penalty. He said there were already five players on the ice. That was too much! “This is persecution!” I shouted. “It’s just because my sweater is too old- fashioned!”
I crashed my stick against the ice so hard that it chipped.
“My child,” said the referee in his teenaged voice, “a good ref never calls a penalty with only minutes left in the game but in this case I’m making an exception. Now go home. Ask the Hockey Commissioner for forgiveness when your appeal is heard, sometime next month.”
Wearing my Nashville jersey, I went home and sent the Hockey Commissioner my email. I asked him to cancel this new deal with Reebok right away and to make sure eBay sells a Sidney Crosby jersey real cheap.
Links
See an animated version of Roch Carrier’s classic children’s story, The Hockey Sweater at the National Film Board website:
http://www.nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/films/film.php?sort=director&director=Cohen%2C+Sheldon&id=13316
See an animated version of Roch Carrier’s classic children’s story, The Hockey Sweater at the National Film Board website:
http://www.nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/films/film.php?sort=director&director=Cohen%2C+Sheldon&id=13316
ABSTRACT: The Hockey SweaterBy Roch Carrier
In the days of Roch Carrier’s childhood, winters in the village of Ste. Justine were long. Life centred around school, church and the hockey rink, and every boy’s hero was Montreal Canadiens hockey legend Maurice Richard. Everyone wore Richard’s number 9. They laced their skates like Richard. They learned everything there was to know about him. When Roch outgrows his beloved Canadiens sweater, his mother writes to “M. Eaton” for a new one. Much to Roch’s dismay, he is sent the blue and white sweater of the rival Toronto Maple Leafs. When Roch turns up at the rink in his sweater, the captain tells him he must wait for a turn to play. Finally another player must stop playing because of a bleeding nose. Roch sees his chance and skates onto the ice, only to be given a penalty. He breaks his stick in frustration, protesting he is being persecuted for wearing the sweater of the Canadiens’ rival. A young curate scolds Roch and tells him to ask for God’s forgiveness. Roch goes to church and asks God to send a hundred million moths to eat his Maple Leafs sweater.
In the days of Roch Carrier’s childhood, winters in the village of Ste. Justine were long. Life centred around school, church and the hockey rink, and every boy’s hero was Montreal Canadiens hockey legend Maurice Richard. Everyone wore Richard’s number 9. They laced their skates like Richard. They learned everything there was to know about him. When Roch outgrows his beloved Canadiens sweater, his mother writes to “M. Eaton” for a new one. Much to Roch’s dismay, he is sent the blue and white sweater of the rival Toronto Maple Leafs. When Roch turns up at the rink in his sweater, the captain tells him he must wait for a turn to play. Finally another player must stop playing because of a bleeding nose. Roch sees his chance and skates onto the ice, only to be given a penalty. He breaks his stick in frustration, protesting he is being persecuted for wearing the sweater of the Canadiens’ rival. A young curate scolds Roch and tells him to ask for God’s forgiveness. Roch goes to church and asks God to send a hundred million moths to eat his Maple Leafs sweater.
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