Eddie arrives at the rink an hour before game time and the parking lot is barely navigable. SUVs are precariously perched on the remaining snow banks, handicap spots are occupied, and creative drivers have invented parking areas where none exist.

He edges his van to the front door of the arena, a wisp away from the car in front. He honks the horn and gestures impatiently. When he’s still metres away from the entrance he slams the gearshift into park, throws open the door and races to unlock the hatch. He tosses his son’s equipment to the ground and throws him a $5 bill for admission.

He runs back to the driver’s seat and guns the engine, off to find a parking space. A group of his smoking buddies have been standing out front watching. They laugh. “Looks like Wild Eddie’s in good form tonight.”

This is Game 6 of a six-point series where the eighth-place Hurricanes have a real chance to knock off the reigning champs. The games have been spectacularly close with overtime in store tonight if no one wins in regulation time.

The lobby is the human version of the parking lot. Mothers, fathers, grandparents and friends nervously sip coffee and soft drinks and juggle for position as they wait for the Zamboni driver to finish his job. Their conversation is all about Todd Bertuzzi.

“Should never play again!” “I bet Crawford told him what to do.” “Nice to see Burke defend his player.”

It’s one of those rare times when the frozen North comes alive with passion. Canadians know hockey and have no compulsion to be polite when something as stupid as Bertuzzi’s mid-ice mugging comes along.

As Wild Eddie leaps into the lobby the word circulates that the Zamboni driver is done and the nine-year-old players are coming onto the ice. The fans head to their chosen seats. After six games in 10 nights they know exactly where they’re heading.

Eddie pushes his way through the crowds to the far end where the supporters of his son’s team sit. He goes to the front row and puts his red plastic horn on the bench. The stands are full, but there’s no one within five metres of Eddie.

As the play begins he stands on the bench, turns to the crowd pumps his fist and begins his chant. “Lets go Hurricanes, let’s go!” His voice is big and loud. The parents pick up the chant and fill the arena with their voices. The other team meets the challenge and adds rhythmic applause.

The Storm, the defending champs, dominate play. They shoot from the point and the goalie makes a save. Moments later they get a two-on-one break and the Hurricanes’ goalie slides over and kicks out a low shot. The fans rise to their feet. A shot heads to the top corner but the goalie gets his glove up just in time for the save. Eddie throws himself on the bench as if he’s sliding into second base.

“Let’s go Hurricanes!” He screams so that he can be heard over the constant din. He blows his horn for emphasis. The first period ends with no goals.

Off the opening faceoff the Storm’s centre heads into the clear, with one defenceman in his way. He makes a deke and the defender’s skates get tangled and he falls for a clean breakaway. He shoots for the five hole and the goalie makes a save. But the winger swoops in and scoops the puck into the corner of the net. The favourites are in the lead.

Eddie slumps to the bench. He buries his head in his hands and then instantly leaps to his feet, once again on top of the bench. “Let’s go, you Hurricanes!” The other parents roar their approval.

A moment later three Hurricanes begin a break from centre ice. There’s a pass to the winger, then back to the centre and then to the other winger. It’s now a two-on-one. He pulls his stick back as if he’s going to shoot but slides the puck through the crease. His teammate has a wide-open net. It’s 1-1.

Eddie is exuberant. He jumps up and down. He races up the stairs to the back of the stands and high-fives anyone who’s in reach. He hugs his buddies and leans in to give one guy a kiss until he realizes what’s he doing. He races back to his spot.

The Storm skate faster and handle the puck better, but the Hurricanes throw their bodies to break up their intricate passes.

Eddie has thrown off his jacket. His face is red and there’s sweat on his forehead. The puck drops in front of the Hurricanes’ goalie. He falls to smother it just as a Storm player dives to poke it loose. The puck rolls into the clear. An uncovered winger calmly shoots it into the open net. The Storm take a 2-1 lead.

Eddie falls face down on the bench. He pounds his hands and kicks his feet. His anguished “NOOOOOO” reverberates. Then he’s instantly back up. Once again he begins his call. “Let’s go Hurricanes, Let’s go!” The other parents join in. They drown out the cheers of the team that’s winning.

The players look up and raise their arms. There are only a few minutes left and they’re determined to pull off the upset. They swarm after the puck. They shoot on net at every moment. One player hits the post. Another fans with a wide-open net in front of him. They’ve never worked so hard, yet they can’t score and they lose.

As the buzzer sounds Eddie crumples. For a few moments he sits, head down, alone on the bench. Then he hops up.

“Let’s go Hurricanes, let’s go!” He begins his chant as loud as he can. The other parents pick it up. The Storm parents hear it fill the rink. They stop their victory celebrations and pound their hands and feet on the beat.

Eddie stops chanting and raises his fist into the air. “Now that’s hockey.”

  [Email Ken here]

Ken you do have the ability to write positive articles! After reading so many negative articles written about hockey by yourself, this recent article is very refreshing. A good mix of negative articles (realistic) and positive articles is all one can ask for. I can really relate to this fan that you wrote about. There are so many of them in the rinks that I travel to.

Well done!

Randy Voth
Chilliwack, B.C.