All Great Things Begin Small
It was a chill, clear day. Clouds of steam rose from the condensing breath of the crowd gathered around the outdoor rink. Upon it was a frenzy of activity. Two groups of six men each, one team in blue sweaters and the other in maroon, thundered about, the noises echoing throughout the still air. Skates slickly cutting through the ice, they deftly weaved their way about each other, using their curved wooden sticks to battle for control of a black, frozen disc.
The maroon team took control of the puck at their end and began to move it up ice. One defenseman passed it up to his teammate, who brought it through center. The blue defenders attempted to knock the black disc away from him, but to no avail. He spun around and skated backwards, guarding the puck until a pass opened up. Two players collided, knocking a blue-sweatered skater into the crowd. The maroon player threw the puck towards the net, where it was picked up by anothe. He pulled back his stick, and brought it arcing downwards. The blue goaltender whipped out his gloved hand to catch the puck, but he was too slow. The crowd exploded in cheering.
“Aaaaand that’s sixty minutes!” called out an announcer from the crowd, “The Winnipeg Manitous have defeated Lac d’Or by a score of Eight to One!”
The crowd continued its applause as the two teams lined up and shook hands, before skating off to the sides.
As the crowd began to disperse, two of the maroon players sat down on the simple bench on the side of the ice, removing their skates. Pierre Lamarque, a burly and black-haired defenseman, and Albert Roussel, a lean, agile forward with bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair, spoke enthusiastically of the future.”
“So Albert, who next? We’ve defeated Fleuve-Michif, Boissevain, Beausejour…”
“La Pas, Lac du Bonnet, L’Université…”
“And now this. There’s not a soul left to challenge us!”
“Hmm... do you think that there’s a team in Baie-Tonnerre?”
“It’s a fair distance away- but I’ll ask Monsieur Dupuis.”
“And then what? What do we do when there is no one left to beat?”
“We’ll go abroad!” exclaimed Pierre, “Hockey is played elsewhere- we can travel, and challenge teams as we do so!”
Albert gave his friend a lengthy, thoughtful look.
“I think you’re on to something- I’ll bring this up with Dupuis.”
Their winter boots back on, the two athletes swung their skates over their backs, and began to set off back towards their lodgings in town. It would be perhaps a two day trip back to Winnipeg, and slightly more to Baie Tonnerre- but beyond there? The world awaited.
It was a chill, clear day. Clouds of steam rose from the condensing breath of the crowd gathered around the outdoor rink. Upon it was a frenzy of activity. Two groups of six men each, one team in blue sweaters and the other in maroon, thundered about, the noises echoing throughout the still air. Skates slickly cutting through the ice, they deftly weaved their way about each other, using their curved wooden sticks to battle for control of a black, frozen disc.
The maroon team took control of the puck at their end and began to move it up ice. One defenseman passed it up to his teammate, who brought it through center. The blue defenders attempted to knock the black disc away from him, but to no avail. He spun around and skated backwards, guarding the puck until a pass opened up. Two players collided, knocking a blue-sweatered skater into the crowd. The maroon player threw the puck towards the net, where it was picked up by anothe. He pulled back his stick, and brought it arcing downwards. The blue goaltender whipped out his gloved hand to catch the puck, but he was too slow. The crowd exploded in cheering.
“Aaaaand that’s sixty minutes!” called out an announcer from the crowd, “The Winnipeg Manitous have defeated Lac d’Or by a score of Eight to One!”
The crowd continued its applause as the two teams lined up and shook hands, before skating off to the sides.
As the crowd began to disperse, two of the maroon players sat down on the simple bench on the side of the ice, removing their skates. Pierre Lamarque, a burly and black-haired defenseman, and Albert Roussel, a lean, agile forward with bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair, spoke enthusiastically of the future.”
“So Albert, who next? We’ve defeated Fleuve-Michif, Boissevain, Beausejour…”
“La Pas, Lac du Bonnet, L’Université…”
“And now this. There’s not a soul left to challenge us!”
“Hmm... do you think that there’s a team in Baie-Tonnerre?”
“It’s a fair distance away- but I’ll ask Monsieur Dupuis.”
“And then what? What do we do when there is no one left to beat?”
“We’ll go abroad!” exclaimed Pierre, “Hockey is played elsewhere- we can travel, and challenge teams as we do so!”
Albert gave his friend a lengthy, thoughtful look.
“I think you’re on to something- I’ll bring this up with Dupuis.”
Their winter boots back on, the two athletes swung their skates over their backs, and began to set off back towards their lodgings in town. It would be perhaps a two day trip back to Winnipeg, and slightly more to Baie Tonnerre- but beyond there? The world awaited.
