I am once again writing this column on a Tuesday, just a few hours before the Canucks face off against the Oilers in a pivotal game four that could see Vancouver take a 3–1 series lead and send them back home to try to seal the deal later in the week. Conversely, Edmonton could even the series at two games apiece and turn this into a best-of-three affair. By the time you read this, you’ll know the answer; all I can do right now is wait and hope.
I’ve been doing that since the Canucks entered the league in 1970. To anyone who says “You’re just jumping on the bandwagon,” I’d reply “I’ve never been off it.” I saw my first live Canucks game on Feb. 12, 1976, when I was just 12 years old, at the old Forum in Montreal. We were living in Ottawa at the time, and the four of us — Mom, Dad, my brother John, and I — drove to Montreal and took our seats in the nosebleeds of that classic building.
It was a memorable night for several reasons. First, the Canucks won 6–4; the first time they had ever defeated the Canadiens in six years of NHL match-ups. To say that the crowd was overwhelmingly pro-Habs would be an understatement; the four of us cheering every Canucks goal were very much in the minority.
The win, momentous as it was, was almost overshadowed by the fact that before the game Dad took John and me down rinkside, where we watched the pre-game skate. Dad — who refereed minor hockey when I was a kid — knew the Canucks’ head scout, and he not only allowed us down there to watch, he called over my childhood hero, Canucks captain André Boudrias, to say hello and sign a picture of himself, which I still have.
Once we moved back to Vancouver I followed the Canucks on radio, that being about the only way you could follow games back in those days. In 1982, when the Canucks made their first Cup run, Dad and I were able to see a couple of the home games live at the old Pacific Coliseum. They were standing room tickets, back when that was still a thing, but we didn’t mind; just being there as part of the crowd was enough. The next Cup run, in 1994, came when I was living in Great Britain, and had no way of following the games at all, save by calling my parents the day after and getting the score.
Two Cup runs, two disappointments. Then came 2011, and for a couple of glorious games against Boston in the final it looked as if finally — finally! — it would be time. It wasn’t, and the riots that followed game seven were the sour cherry on top of a very bitter cake.
It’s now 13 years on, and during that time the Canucks’ playoff history has been … shall we say spotty? disappointing? lacklustre? underwhelming? non-existent for many years? Thus it was that when this year’s playoff run started, I had got out of the habit of taking much interest in the Stanley Cup playoffs, and had forgotten how stressful it can be when your team — against all odds — shows signs of maybe actually possibly going deep.
That’s because playoff hockey is nothing like regular season hockey, a fact of which I was reminded on Sunday during game three. One minute left to go during the regular season, your team up by a goal, and the other team threatening to tie it up? “Oh well, at least they’ll get a point out of it, and they could still win in OT.” One minute left to go during a playoff game, your team up by a goal, and the other team threatening to score? “NononononoNONONOnonoNOpleasepleaseletitbeoverPLEASE,” as your heart rate doubles, your blood pressure rises, and time seems to stand still.
Here’s hoping for the best tonight, but expecting the worst. After all, I’ve been a Canucks fan for more than 50 years, so I know how it goes, from planning the parade route to telling yourself “There’s always next season.” Still, it’s nice to dream …
