The Christmas train has come and gone, sweeping every last penny in return for a bunch of useless stuff, the Lower Mainland is pounded by yet another unwelcome storm, Toronto is basking in Floridian sunshine and the Russian juniors lost yet another final to Canada. In short, nobody could feel any more miserable than a Russian hockey fan on the West Coast.
Please understand I am all for Canada, after all this country has given me so many incredible opportunities. I am forever grateful to the maple leaf and nearly all that it represents including its funny notion of bilingualism that has recently captured my imagination, giving me a licence to massacre yet another language with total impunity.
And yet for all that, I remain unmoved in my allegiance when it comes to hockey. You see, grey was the colour of my Soviet childhood when it came to just about anything – non-existent politics with 100% approval ratings, non-descript liver sausage at 5 cents a pound and a complete lack of gratuitous consumerism. Sports, the space program, and the national anthem were just about the only outlets worth getting excited about. Hockey, with its frequent successes after a meteoric rise to the world stage, was our pride and joy. But not for long…
In the 90s Russia allowed the free-wheeling spirits of democracy penetrate the very depth of their hockey benches, leaving the glories of the 70s and 80s behind in the clouds of primordial dust. Coaches lost their ability to intimidate and the NHL offered lucrative individual happiness at the expense of the anthem. Russian hockey results quickly followed the Russian economy - down the drain. All seemed hopeless, when on the eve of the new millennia a prince charming came to our rescue. With the appropriate flair for a KGB officer he re-instated our old anthem, shut down free press and the rule of law returned to the hockey benches.
Regretfully, our latest undisciplined first-period breakdown led to three quick punches, annihilating our hopes for world junior domination once again. No amount of subsequent effort could erase the deficit with Canada lifting yet another trophy. By now my soul is crying for Communism’s return; forget about Moscow billionaires, new freedoms of sleeping under bridges and scrapping with neighbouring states. None of it is worth anything unless Russian hockey re-gains its flair for all things victorious – under a watchful, authoritarian eye, of course…
Merry Russian Christmas, Comrades!
Please understand I am all for Canada, after all this country has given me so many incredible opportunities. I am forever grateful to the maple leaf and nearly all that it represents including its funny notion of bilingualism that has recently captured my imagination, giving me a licence to massacre yet another language with total impunity.
And yet for all that, I remain unmoved in my allegiance when it comes to hockey. You see, grey was the colour of my Soviet childhood when it came to just about anything – non-existent politics with 100% approval ratings, non-descript liver sausage at 5 cents a pound and a complete lack of gratuitous consumerism. Sports, the space program, and the national anthem were just about the only outlets worth getting excited about. Hockey, with its frequent successes after a meteoric rise to the world stage, was our pride and joy. But not for long…
In the 90s Russia allowed the free-wheeling spirits of democracy penetrate the very depth of their hockey benches, leaving the glories of the 70s and 80s behind in the clouds of primordial dust. Coaches lost their ability to intimidate and the NHL offered lucrative individual happiness at the expense of the anthem. Russian hockey results quickly followed the Russian economy - down the drain. All seemed hopeless, when on the eve of the new millennia a prince charming came to our rescue. With the appropriate flair for a KGB officer he re-instated our old anthem, shut down free press and the rule of law returned to the hockey benches.
Regretfully, our latest undisciplined first-period breakdown led to three quick punches, annihilating our hopes for world junior domination once again. No amount of subsequent effort could erase the deficit with Canada lifting yet another trophy. By now my soul is crying for Communism’s return; forget about Moscow billionaires, new freedoms of sleeping under bridges and scrapping with neighbouring states. None of it is worth anything unless Russian hockey re-gains its flair for all things victorious – under a watchful, authoritarian eye, of course…
Merry Russian Christmas, Comrades!
No comments:
Post a Comment