Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Game on

I always get a little excited by a new hockey season.

This season is the 30th for the Washington Capitals. I still remember the first one. My family had season tickets, great seats behind the bench. I didn't get to see my first live game until November, a 4-4 tie against the North Stars.

The first Caps game I saw was not a loss. I think that is significant, because that first season was 8-67-5...a lot of losses...but I always expected them to win. Bear in mind I was a little kid. The finer points of the game, like actual talent, were still lost on me. They were my team, I loved them, if they lost I was crushed.

My favorite player was defenseman Yvon Labre. I liked Denis Dupere, too, and Ron Low and Ace Bailey. But Yvon Labre was my favorite favorite. When I played street hockey...always pretending the Caps were about to win the Stanley Cup...I scored the winning goal on a pass from Yvon.

They had a promotion the second season where kids could get their pictures taken with a player, and the whole way to the Capital Centre I talked about how I hoped I could get my picture with Yvon. I had my Yvon Labre hockey card with me to get autographed, just in case! I was all dressed up in red, white, and blue, with my Capitals stocking cap. When warmups were over a few players were lined up on folding chairs, and ushers dropped the kids on players laps like an assembly line of department store Santas. If I got Yvon it would be dumb luck...

Or a dad who could count. I didn't find this out until later (much later. Twenty years later) but my dad dropped us back in line as needed so that when I got to the front the empty player was Yvon.

On the ice, though, the team crushed me on a regular basis. Finally I got used to losing, and in a perverse way I think I started to take some pride in staying loyal to a team whose fans are always labelled with the modifier "long-suffering." Now I can trade the battle stories. The 1987 Easter game? Of course I was there. Pittsburgh? Don't talk to me about Pittsburgh. In 1982 I remember the last game of the season, the Caps had failed to make the playoffs by that much, the final standings decided by another game the same day, and captain Ryan Walter actually cried, telling the fans who stayed that next year would be the year.

Next year is always the year.

Next year starts next week.

Posted by Nic at September 30, 2003 09:22 PM | TrackBack