<table width=90% align=center><tr><td><img src=http://cdn.nhl.com/canucks/images/upload/2007/09/macri_headshot.jpg border=0 align=left vspace=1 hspace=4>Hello, and welcome to my weblog (or “blog”). For this first one, I’m not going to write about the upcoming season, or anything that happened in the offseason for that matter. Nor am I going to venture an opinion on the new jerseys (even though I feel that it is a topic that still needs fleshingout). Instead, I’m going to take you on a trip. Where, you ask? How about a Fall Foliage Tour in Vermont’s Apple Country? Not interested? Then how about memory lane? Specifically, down memory lane.
Yes, I’m going to use this opportunity to recount a couple of random memories I have about the Canucks. Maybe you relate to one (this is possible). Maybe you skip over my name in the Blogger’s section from this point forward (this is very possible).
<img src=http://cdn.nhl.com/canucks/images/upload/2007/09/sep1207_mclean01_t.jpg border=0 align=right>I think that I fell in love with hockey during the first game I ever attended in person. It was probably 1991, the Canucks were playing the Kings, and my mom and I had seats directly behind the visitor’s bench. I remember very little from that game other than Kirk McLean recording a shutout, and Marty McSorley dropping some of the most foul language I had ever heard up until that point in my life. My mom, of course, was horrified; but to this day, I like to think that McSorley carefully wrapped each swear word in brightly coloured paper, addressed every one to me, and deposited them one by one into my ear. My decision to unwrap one of these gifts on the ride home was probably ill-advised. The subsequential beating was savage, but worth it.
The next several years were completely uneventful in Canuckland. That is, until the team announced that they had landed Mark Messier via free agency. The Moose. The best leader in sports. The guy who offered me so many chips on television. The excitement that washed over me can only be described as “satisfactory.” The next day, I made sure to save the edition of the Province newspaper in which he was featured on the front page, modelling his new sweater and holding his arms high above his head in expectant triumph. Surely that particular newspaper would be the one that I would pull out for my grandchildren, so that they could make tangible, in some small way, the golden years of Vancouver hockey. <img src=http://cdn.nhl.com/images/upload/2007/06/messier2_sm.jpg border=0 align=left vspace=1 hspace=4>They would run their fingers over the curled, yellowed paper until I told them to stop, for they were smudging the print with their “grubby mitts.” They would then stare blankly at Messier’s smiling face in quiet resentment of their grandfather, who therapists would later tell them was “passive-aggressive” and “emotionally bankrupt.” Ahh...future memories. Of course, Messier was a colossal disappointment, and I later threw out the newspaper. Thanks, Mark.
Well, that’s about it. Two memories. I guess I could go into detail about the time I stole Kevin Weeke’s wallet, or the story in which I saved the Mellon Arena from being blown up by terrorists who had also taken the Vice-President and my daughter into hostage (I got into quite the punch fight with the Penguins’ mascot in a kitchen that night), but I’ll save those chestnuts for another time.</td></tr></table>